#don’t even get me started on the implications of this album to me as a marauders fan 🫣🐾🌙 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lizard-on-a-window-pane · 2 months

Text

When the Levee Breaks

pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

tags / warnings: friends to lovers fluff then smut, mutual pining, smoking weed (be responsible irl), high sex, explicit descriptions of oral (f receiving), fem!reader

NSFW notes: A LARGE PORTION OF THIS FIC IS NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS; DO NOT READ IT IF IT ISN'T APPROPRIATE FOR YOU! HOWEVER, because such a long portion (like 2/3) has no sexual material (except for the implication at the very beginning), i have clearly marked where it becomes NSFW in case any age-appropriate readers want to read only up to that point (i know some people just want fluff not smut even if they're of age, and that's so chill); i will say there is drug use before then, so still adult material, but fluffy around that; please please be responsible for your content consumption

random notes: set in the late 70's / early 80's, following canon of when the marauders would've met but the rest of the world building (e.g. au) left ambiguous title inspired by a song on one of the albums mentioned idk why this turned out similar to The Prettiest Star with Sirius Black, but i guess my fantasy is just to listen to music intensely with someone then fuck lovingly lol

word count: 6.4k

hope you enjoy! thank you if you read it! 🫶

You watch as his long fingers, practiced and adept, roll the spliff. You liked this part. You could stare at his hands under the guise of watching the rolling. Remus didn’t have to know how far from pot your mind wandered when you did. He didn’t have to know it made you wonder every time what else he could do with this fingers. Imagine how they would feel on you. In you.

At the thought, you squirm where you’re seated on his settee next to him. He chuckles in a low tone.

“Antsy?”

“No.”

He can tell you’re lying. You can tell he can tell. But you don’t care. As long as he can’t tell why you’re lying, it doesn’t matter, and you can keep wriggling.

“Whatever you say, jitterbug.”

Your wringing hands catch his attention, and his eyes fix on them even as his hands continue their work.

“Next time, you’re rolling it,” he says through a smile. “There’d be nothing left to smoke by the time you finished shaking it everywhere,” he laughs, too amused with himself, giggling as if he were already high.

“Remus?” you start, and he shakes his head and chuckles, loving how you get when he teases you.

“What?” he smiles, eyebrows shooting up at you, both a welcome and a challenge for you to say whatever you’re about to.

“Can you remind me who provided this wonderful gift on this wonderful afternoon?” You shake the baggy you brought to his flat not 15 minutes ago.

He laughs, now nodding, and concedes, “You’re right, sunshine. I should be so grateful.”

Remus brings the spliff to his mouth to lick the edge of the paper, and your retort gets caught in your throat as you fixate on his tongue.

A bit too late, a bit too quiet for your usual banter, you say, “You should be, Moons. I can still take it home and smoke by myself.”

“Oh now I’ve rolled it for you, yeah? Didn’t realize you were just here for my services. Should’ve known you were just pretending to love me till you got what you wanted.” He holds up his finished work — a beauty really — in front of you as he finishes his joke. You hum affirmatively, taking it from him and looking it over.

You inspect it exaggeratedly and with a theatrical sense of casual satisfaction tell him, “Hm, not bad. I was starting to regret the long con, but I think this was worth it.”

He’s giggling as he gets up, bumping his body against yours before he does, going toward his record collection. He walks over lazily, unhurriedly, his bare feet quiet on the floor, his hand coming up to mess with his hair. His loose, comfy clothes do a lot to hide the muscles you know are lean but strong underneath.

“Come help me choose,” he says over his shoulder as he falls to one knee to scan a lower shelf. Almost a whole wall of his small apartment is covered in shelves, boxes, stacks of records. It looks a mess, but it’s actually meticulously organized by release date.

You follow him, come up just behind him. You crouch, too, not all the way down like him. You lean on him, resting your head atop his, bringing your arms around his shoulders and neck.

He moans casually, seeming happy, and grabs your arms where they fall across his chest.

“Oh, Rem. You should know…”

“Hm?” he asks, looking up at you. You look down at him, seeing his warm smile upside down.

“This is the real reason I’ve pretended to be your friend all these years,” you fake seriousness as you nod toward the records. Remus rolls his eyes, but his smile stretches further across his lovely face. It pulls on a long scar that runs down his cheek.

“And may I ask how you knew when we were eleven that one day I would own such an epic collection?”

“Easy. You wore a Led Zeppelin t-shirt one of the first days we knew each other.”

He’s taken aback by your giving an actual answer.

“Did I really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, smiling down at him. The warmth of reminiscing about those childhood years softening you.

“I think I remember that shirt,” he smiles nostalgically. “How do you remember that?” He twists in your embrace, coming to sit on the floor and pulling you with him. You’re sitting close to each other, and he’s watching you, rapt.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I remember being so nervous and lonely at the beginning. Wanting to make friends. And you seemed nice, so I noticed you.” You shrug again, look down for a moment, not wanting to express embarrassment at a more honest recollection: you had a crush on him immediately, even back then, even before you were really sure what it was you were feeling — that came with the years that followed. “The day you wore that shirt, it was like something familiar I could latch onto. Someone who liked something I liked.” Remus is smiling adoringly at you. Listening as intently as he is, looking as giddy, he looks like a child at the greatest story time ever from his seat on the floor.

“I even tried to talk to you about it,” you confess, cringing teasingly at yourself.

“Yeah?” He sits up straighter like a puppy hearing someone at the door.

“Yeah,” you exhale.

“I don’t remember that happening.”

“That’s because it didn’t,” you laugh. “I said tried to talk to you. I got too nervous and ran to hide before I could get the words out.”

He’s shaking his head in disbelief, his smile still plastered on his face.

“I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed you yet.” Remus looks especially contemplative for a moment then hums, biting his lower lip. “It’s crazy. Trying to think of my life before you is like remembering a blank canvas.”

Your cheeks warm and so does your heart.

You’re smiling a beaming smile at him but say, “There wasn’t much to notice. I was pretty quiet. And besides, your attention probably couldn’t handle a single thing more given you were getting to know Sirius and James.” He laughs lightly at the good memories but shakes his head at you a little more pronouncedly.

“I’m sure there was a lot to notice. I was just an idiot. And quiet, too. By comparison to that lot anyway. They spoke enough for the three of us. I probably would’ve wimped out if I’d tried to talk to a pretty girl like you back then.” The edges of his entrancing brown eyes crinkled from his smile. “I mean… to be honest… I’d get nervous for a while, talking to you at first.”

“You didn’t,” you tease but secretly really want to hear more.

“I did, yeah. Of course I did,” he laughs at himself. “I had a big crush on you. James and Sirius wouldn’t let me live it down for ages.”

You’re shocked at this news. And maybe your face shows it. What it doesn’t show is how desperately your mind is racing, questioning: “Wait, could things have been otherwise? Did he actually like me as more than a friend at some point? Did I ruin it somehow?”

Remus tenses slightly, his smile no longer reaching his eyes, which are attentive at your reaction.

“That was a long time ago,” he jokes to fill the silence that is beginning to stretch too long, his tone awkward.

“What happened?” you whisper, unable to help it.

He takes a second to answer, like he doesn’t know what to say. He’s searching your face, and you’re not sure how much he can read there.

He shrugs. His face gives an “I don’t know” scowl. He’s trying to escape answering, but you don’t let him.

“Remus,” you laugh and shove him playfully.

“I don’t know,” he giggles. “I don’t know. Then I got to know you I guess. And we became friends.”

You give a scoffy laugh. You know he probably didn’t mean it that way, but your stomach sinks at the idea that getting to know you would remedy him of his crush. You’re staring at the floor when his voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, you okay?” He’s trying to keep the playful atmosphere, but you hear true concern in his tone. “Did I say something I shouldn’t’ve?”

You want to say “yes,” but you wouldn’t be able to tell him which part. So, you don’t say anything.

“I didn’t think you’d mind, after all these years,” he says more softly.

“No, Rem. Of course I don’t mind.” You shake your head as if dismissing the idea, attempting a laugh that still comes out strained. “I was just surprised is all.”

He’s watching you, nodding subtlety, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

“Let’s choose something, yeah?” you nod next to you toward the wall, desperate to redirect attention.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Remus turns toward the records, skimming across his stacks. A thought catches him, and he moves purposefully toward a different shelf.

“What are you thinking?” you notice, your interest piqued.

“1971,” he says as if it’s an answer. It is to you.

1971: the year you met.

He pulls out a well-worn record, and the strain on your smile finally dissipates to easy delight. You come stand next to him, and he hands it to you.

“Do you remember how much we listened to that then?” he asks.

“How could I forget,” you smile, your fingers tracing the cover of Led Zeppelin IV.

It came out November 1971, but neither of you could get it till at least a month later, during Christmas break from school. When you finally did, the two of you listened to it nonstop. You absolutely loved the album, but you knew you listened to it that much because it was an easy excuse to hang out with Remus. You’d been listening to music together, often just the two of you, ever since.

“Fuck, I remember we’d listen to it in my room,” Remus reminisces. “And even Sirius, the biggest Zeppelin fan of us all, couldn’t take it anymore,” he laughs. “He’d turn it off when he found us listening to it, scolding us for ‘abusing a sacred thing.’”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Oh, look at this,” Remus startles you, excited. He pulls another record off the same shelf.

“This is too perfect,” he giggles. “I didn’t remember this came out then,” he muses, looking it over. “Probably didn’t get my hands on it till much later, I guess. But it’s like it was made for us. For you.” He hands you Just As I Am by Bill Withers, but you still don’t get what he’s saying. He sees your confused look and chuckles. “Second track,” he hints. Your eyes land on “Ain’t No Sunshine.”

“Sunshine”: Remus’s nickname for you for years. You had Sirius to thank for it actually. He’d said you and Remus were like yin and yang. And since you all already called him “Moony,” you had to be “Sunny.” The other three of you cringed at the sound of that, so he tried “sunshine” instead, conceding it was close enough, and it stuck. Over the years, Sirius and James used it less and less, Remus more and more.

“It’s your song,” Remus urges, knocking his shoulder against yours. “There literally can’t be sunshine when you’re gone because you are sunshine.” He sounds too excited, and it’s adorable.

“You sound like Sirius saying he’s serious,” you tease. He just laughs and takes the record back.

“Whatever, grumpy. It’s an epic song, and you know it, and now it’s yours, and I don’t care if that’s cheesy.”

“I love it,” escapes you, teasing tone gone. His eyes snap to yours, and he looks at you warmly.

“Alright, sunshine,” he whispers. A beat. “Wanna listen to it?” he asks, voice almost normal again. You nod gladly then go back to the sofa as he sets it up.

Remus soon comes back and joins you. He grabs the spliff from between stacks of snacks you’d prepared for the afternoon then looks over at you.

“Ready, sunshine?”

“Mhhm.”

“You do the honours.” He hands it to you and grabs the lighter. Rather than handing that to you too, he lights it for you as it dangles from your parted lips.

You take a long drag, feeling it enter you and welcoming it. You cough lightly as you exhale slowly. You are no novice but are still always a cougher. Remus still always giggles when you do, but it’s never mocking. He has a glass of water ready for you, knowing you well, always looking after you. You trade him the water for the spliff, which he proceeds to hit with equal enthusiasm and less wheezing.

You pass it back and forth for a little while. It’s strong stuff and just three hits in, you feel it engulfing you. The settee feels softer; the music sounds better.

“Ain’t No Sunshine” is playing, and in your dazed state, you’re sure this is going to be the peak of the album even if it doesn’t coincide with the peak of your high. You close your eyes, and you can feel the music on your skin.

Remus chuckles next to you, and your face turns to him.

“You look so stoned right now,” he explains, giddy.

“That’s because I am,” you laugh. Once you start laughing it’s hard to stop; once Remus joins, it’s almost impossible.

You chat easily, observations and jokes from both of you greatly benefitting from the induced assistance. Remus has a revelation about your listening to HI-fi while high. Your mind is blown multiple times at how deep the lyrics are.

“They’re all talkin’ at him, but he doesn’t hear a word they’re sayin’, Moons! Not a word! I should do that,” you tell him as if it’s the most urgent thing in the world. He cracks up. “He’s so right, you know? Gotta keep the sun shining through the pouring rain, you know?”

“Uh-huh, I know, sunshine, I know,” he just laughs at you.

“You have such a nice smile, Moony,” you observe, dazed just as much from the feelings perambulating through your system than the pot doing the same.

“Yeah?” he asks, exaggerating it till he’s all teeth and squinty eyes.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “It looked funny upside down over there,” you remember. “Watch!”

You flip over on the sofa till your feet are up where your neck should rest and your head is dangling off the edge where your knees would normally be. You smile up at him. Remus doubles over laughing with you, bringing his face much closer to yours as he leans into it.

“You’re right. Looks funny,” he tells you much more softly than you expected after his cackling. He watches you intently then brings a hand to your upside down face. He traces your features lightly, and it’s warm and tingly. His long finger travels down your nose, across your eyebrows.

“C’mere,” you whisper to him.

“Where?” he whispers back, his voice a gruff chuckle again.

“Down here!” you whisper-yell.

You pull his shoulder down and start kicking his legs up as he contorts until you get him in the same position as you. You end up side by side, upside-down on the sofa.

Each of you giggles at the other as you steal side glances. Your faces, pulled the wrong way by gravity, softened more than normal by the smoking, look even goofier through your incessant giggles and pointless efforts at holding those back.

You listen, and laugh, to at least a whole song like this. You kick each other’s feet throughout. As one of your kicks brings you closer to Remus, he rolls over to tickle you. You laugh so loud you can’t even hear the record over it.

“Stop, Rem! Stop!” you plead. “I’m already too dizzy.”

He keeps it up a moment but soon takes pity on you and helps move your body the right way around, his strong hands manipulating you easily.

“Alright, dizzy. Enough upside-down,” he says as he fixes your now crazy hair.

You just nod and shift closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he shuffles to a comfortable height for you, laying his own head on yours.

A primary reason you enjoy getting high with Remus: you both get snuggly. You’re touchy normally, even more than most best friends you’ve seen, but not overly so. When you’re high, it’s overly so. But it somehow doesn’t feel weird. In fact, it feels wonderful.

So, it feels wonderful, not weird, when you absentmindedly reach over for his hand. He gives it to you easily, and you begin caressing it.

“Your skin is so soft, Rem.” You pull his hand closer to you, bringing it close to your face, looking it at like you’ve never seen a hand before. Remus takes the opportunity and quickly grabs at your nose playfully. You giggle at this as he responds to your initial comment.

“In between all the scars maybe.” He sounds matter of fact. There’s a lot less pain in his voice now when he talks about them than when he did in your younger years. You look forward to the day when you hear no pain there at all.

“No, the scars too,” you correct him gently, and you bring your thumb to a scar that runs from the top of his hand up to his forearm. You trace it with reverence, and he shivers at your touch. You know for a fact you’re the only person in the world he allows to touch them. You’re so grateful for his trust, and in this moment, your emotions heightened, your inhibitions lowered, the vibrations of the music moving through you, you feel the need to tell him so.

“Thank you for letting me touch you, Moony.”

Remus has been watching where your hands are connected until now, but at your words, he looks into your eyes. He just looks at you for a long moment. You can’t tell how long, time elongated and indeterminable in your current state, but you’re completely comfortable to sit in it through its entirety, looking straight back at him.

Eventually, the softest grin blossoms on his face. You mirror it.

“Thank you for not being afraid to,” he whispers. You genuinely don’t understand.

“Why would I be?”

“You know what I mean,” he tries to explain. He looks down in shyness but back at you before continuing, “Maybe ‘afraid’ isn’t the right word. Maybe it’s ‘disgusted’ or something…”

His voice is fading to a low whisper by the end, like the louder the words are the truer they’ll be.

Without hesitating, you tell him the truth: “Remus, you’re the least disgusting person in the world. You’re beautiful.” He grimaces like he can’t believe you, so you go on. “You are.”

You turn your body even more toward him, bringing your connected hands to your almost shared lap and bringing your other hand to caress his cheek.

“Silly Moony. You’re so sickeningly beautiful,” you chuckle. Your hand runs up through his hair. “This hair is ridiculous,” you inform him, tousling it. He leans into your touch like a content puppy. “These eyes.” You trace circles around each of them, first skimming his eyebrows then looping around. “They’re the easiest thing in the world to melt into, no pot needed.” You feel them crinkle as they smile into your compliments. “This nose.” You trace it slowly. “These lips,” you say more softly. You feel his gasp when you touch them then feel nothing, his breath held as you trace them. “And your scars,” you say with some finality. You trace a prominent one across his face. He closes his eyes while you do, opens them again when you reach its end. “You beauty isn’t one to be ruined by scars, Remus Lupin. Your beauty is the kind that incorporates the scar and makes that beautiful too.”

Remus squeezes your interlaced hands. Your faces are so close to each other that you could see his eyes moisten as you tell him all this. He closes them before full tears form and moves his face that tiny bit closer till his forehead rests on yours. You nuzzle his nose, and he nuzzles yours back.

“It’s so quiet,” you whisper, breaking the silence — noticing the silence. You didn’t notice when the album ended. Remus just hums in response.

The silence is loaded but peaceful. You don’t want to pressure him into having to say something back after you let yourself get so intense with him. It wasn’t about what he said back; it was about his understanding how you saw him, how you hoped he would see himself.

So, with his eyes still closed, you give the scar that runs across his nose a light kiss, do the same to another larger one across his jaw. Then you bring your head back to his shoulder, snuggling into him to mark the end of the moment, no further pressure necessary.

Remus shifts his body closer, as close to you as possible. He brings his arm around your shoulders without letting go of your hand. He’s holding you close, and your arm crosses your chest to keep your hands intertwined. He kisses the top of your head — new, sweet — then rests his own there again — familiar, warm. Your thumb absentmindedly strokes the back of his hand.

You sit together in the quiet a long while. You close your eyes, breathe Remus in, let his body, his presence envelop you then just bask in it. Everything feels pleasantly heavy — the air, his body where it touches yours.

You settle into him, and without your noticing you’re doing it, your hand on his stills.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

“Hm?” you need to ask, unsure what he means. You look up, and he looks down, and your faces are a breadth away from each other.

“I liked how you were touching me,” he whispers. “I always like how you touch me,” he adds like a secret.

He brings his hand that’s not holding yours up to your face. First, the backs of his fingers brush lightly over your cheekbone then he rests his hand there. His fingers hold your jaw; his thumb caresses your cheek. Like you tend to do, you lean into his touch.

His gentle, soothing touch flutters your eyes closed. Your inability to see his face makes it less scary to respond, “I always like how you touch me too.”

“Yeah?” he sighs, his hand holding you a bit more tightly, his thumb coming down to graze your bottom lip. You nod slowly, his hand moving with your head.

“Do you ever think about other ways we could touch each other?” he whispers. Your eyes fly open at this and land on his: lidded, dilated, gazing into your own.

“Do you?”

“I asked you first,” he giggles. “And I’ve already told you a secret today. It’s your turn.”

“What secret?” Your voices are still soft, whispering even though there’s no need for quiet other than your intimacy demanding it.

“About my crush.”

“I had a crush on you too,” you tell him. “So now we’re even.”

“That’s not fair, sunshine,” he smiles. You smile back.

Then, after a moment, like he can’t help it, “You did?”

“Of course I did.”

“What happened?” he echoes.

“Nothing,” you confess.

His eyebrows furrow, unsure how to interpret this. His eyes hold hope and trepidation at once.

“I got to know you… And we became friends…” you continue. His expression falls, and you’re pretty sure you recognize this look as disappointment. But you go on, “And it made me love you all the more.”

You’re ready to read his expression closely this time, but you don’t get the chance before he’s kissing you, before you’re kissing back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NSFW beyond this point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s slow. Deliberate. His lips push on yours; his arms bring you closer. His tongue teases your lips, and though they part in response, his tongue traces them rather than push in. You whimper at the feeling of it, and he moans at your reaction. He breathes you in, covers your whole mouth with his, devouring the sound, devouring you.

Now his tongue enters your mouth, exploring, playing with yours. You’re not sure whether his movements are slow or whether they just feel slow because you’re still high. You are sure you have no desire to speed any of it up.

You bring your hands to either side of his face, holding him gently but pulling him to you. He follows easily, and when your chests are almost flush, you trace your hands down to his shirt and pull him on top of you as you lean back, lying down on the sofa.

You keep kissing a deliciously long while then Remus goes beyond your lips, kissing along your jaw leisurely. He mouths at your skin, licking, nipping his way unhurriedly down to your neck. Here he languidly runs his tongue along the length of your neck, kissing your pulse point, nipping behind your ear.

Everywhere he touches is buzzing, and you shiver at the sensation. When his breath blows cold air on your now wet skin, you shiver even harder, your body shuddering against his above you. He chuckles into the crook of your neck and continues.

After another while of his working his way down, he has to pull the neck of your shirt down to reach further. You bare your neck to him, loving his exploratory path.

When his mouth leaves your skin for the first time in several minutes, your impulse is to immediately pull him back to you.

“Let’s take this off,” he whispers sedately, gruffly, tugging at your top.

You pull it off and don’t waste time unclasping and sliding your bra off as well. Remus looks at you, dopey and delighted, but without further ado, pushes your chest so that you lie back again. His hand stays on you and begins lazily kneading your breast as he brings his mouth back to you.

He kisses the base of your neck and continues his previous ministrations across your collarbones. He seems to be on a mission to trace the entire surface area of your skin with his wandering mouth, and you have every intention of letting him and enjoying every long second of it.

As he makes his languorous way down your sternum, you arch your back, pushing up into him, and bring your hands to his messy hair, holding him close. You scratch and tug, needing somewhere to release some energy, every part of you he’s touched left humming warm and electric. He groans into your chest, and you’re certain you feel the vibrations move through your skin, across your chest cavity, and into your heart, where they ricochet within it, making it beat faster.

“Remus,” you whine adoringly. He hums into your skin again in response and speeds up his southward trajectory just the slightest bit.

His face comes between your breasts, and he runs his teeth down the valley, then licks his tongue up the same path. You shake a little, and his hand squeezes your breast tighter. The other one he mouths across until his tongue traces a slow, wet circle around your nipple. This shoots a hot, jolting current straight from where his mouth is connected to you down to between your legs.

He’s gentle for a while, moving back and forth between your tits, often agonizingly slowly, his hands kneading at your chest all the while. Without your expecting it, though, he bites one of your hard, sensitive nipples and tugs lightly. You squeal and push your chest into his mouth. He keeps going, switching as he fancies between rough and tender.

At a bite of the side of your breast, you rut up into him, and the movement has you feeling how wet you are. You’ve never been this wet before before direct stimulation.

Remus holds your hips down to the sofa but moves from your chest to your stomach. His roaming mouth proceeds at its perfect, maddening pace. It meanders to your ribs, down your sides, not following a straight path down.

Once he eventually reaches the threshold of your pants, he looks up at you.

Remus looks higher than you’ve ever seen him before. He looks elated, in awe.

“I want to spend hours and hours on your body like this,” he tells you, nuzzling his face into your lower stomach, kissing it as he detaches from you.

“Remus,” you whimper, running your hand into his hair and inadvertently thrusting your hips up. He chuckles, still sounding high, but his voice is as low as you’ve ever heard it.

He takes your trousers and underwear off in one efficient but slow tug. He pulls his shirt off much faster, and you touch all his skin you can reach before he’s repositioning himself.

Your thighs feel cold now uncovered, but it’s nothing compared to the sensation of fresh air on your soaking cunt. As you adjust your body, you feel a thick wetness drip from your entrance down to where your arse meets the sofa. You feel the coldness of that wetness even more as Remus pushes your legs further apart to position himself between them.

You’re completely sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been before, but you’re not sure if you could possibly be as wet as you feel, thinking the high could be heightening your sensation of it. You’re worried it’s too much, worried you’ll put Remus off.

“I can clean up a little if —“ you start, but you’re cut off by Remus diving in, running his flat tongue slowly, firmly up from the base of your puddle up to your pubic bone. A strangled, prolonged gasp functions as the end of your sentence.

When Remus licks you again, your thighs shake on either side of his head. You feel him laugh into your cunt, and this time you imagine the vibrations shooting all the way up your body, following the chaotic roadmap his mouth left lingering across it.

Remus pulls back from you and rests his chin on your pubic bone, looking up at you.

He informs you simply, “You taste delicious, darling.” He looks drunk on it.

“Everything tastes better when you’re high,” you tease.

“Then I’m really going to enjoy this,” he smiles. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll get me high just by letting me do this other times.”

“Other times?”

“Well, yeah…” he giggles. His eyes bore into yours even though he’s the length of your torso away. “I though this was a first, not an only…”

“Good.” You sound giddy. “Just checking.”

“Silly,” he shakes his head at you. You thrust your hips up and laugh at the expression he makes when you bump his face, like he’s dazed. He squeezes your thigh harshly where he’s holding you.

“Behave, sunshine. It’s feeling dangerous down here.”

“I thought you were enjoying it.”

“I am.” A bite at your hip. “And I’m seriously getting the munchies, so just…” You don’t understand the end of his sentence, the words muffled against your skin as he starts eating you out.

It’s heavenly. High as you are, in love as you are, you think you’re on cloud nine. This gets you wondering where such an odd expression even comes from. It seems so random.

“Moony?”

“Hmm?” is grunted into your cunt.

“Why do you think it’s called being on cloud nine?”

He pulls back. The whole lower half of his face shines in your slick.

“Why are you thinking about that right now? Am I that bad at this?”

“Bad? It’s amazing.” You ruffle his hair in your groping hands. “Which is why I’m on cloud nine, which is why I’m thinking about that right now. Your hair is as soft as clouds, Moons.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Am not,” you giggle.

“Are,” he teases.

“Can you keep going now? It felt so good. Your mouth is ridiculous.” You thrust your hips up at him again.

“Ridiculous and bossy,” he complains, but he’s smiling hard, and before you can even think of a retort, he does as you bid.

His mouth takes its time between your legs. He spends eternities teasing you: mouthing at the tops of your thighs, licking up your bikini line, nipping at your clit without giving it the attention he knows you want from how loud you whine every time he gives it the slightest graze. He loves all over your vulva, not leaving any part untouched, unworshipped. His tongue fucks into your entrance languidly; it swirls there. He licks your labia, sucks on it, gives the same attention to your clit when you moan loud enough. He travels back and forth, seemingly enjoying all of it too much to stick to any one attention too long. The next time he lands on your clit, he prolongs it.

Your legs shake; your back arches; your whines grow loud before turning strangled, and Remus takes his cue to reserve the relaxed approach for later. He picks up his pace, gripping your thighs tightly and shakes his whole face into you, alternating between licking and sucking rhythmically at your clit. You cum hard, and it feels like it goes on for minutes.

With your eyes closed, you truly feel like you’re floating, your only anchor to the world Remus Lupin where you feel his body attached to yours.

You’re laughing in pleasure, and the laughs turn to pants as you slowly, slowly come down. You love coming down to an already high baseline, and you giggle at the sensation of relaxing into a still heightened state.

It suddenly strikes you it feels like it’s been years since you talked to Remus, heard his mellifluous voice, and you startle your eyes open searching for him.

You see him immediately. He’s gazing at you with equal parts ardor and adoration, but when he sees your expression, his shifts to concern.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, my love?” He rushes to hover just above you. His face is close to yours again, though it’s scanning all over your body. His hand holds your face gently, his other arm holding him up. “Did something feel bad? Does something hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine, Moons, I’m fine,” you rush to reassure. “I just missed you,” you explain.

“Missed me?” His eyes shoot to yours. “I’m right here, love; what do you mean you missed me?” He can’t help a subtle giggle, and his adoring expression takes back its rightful place on his beautiful face.

“I just thought I hadn’t seen you in too long.” Your hands caress his face, thread through his hair. “Or heard your voice…”

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning into your touch. “I’m right here. What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” you smile.

“I love you.”

You’ve heard them before, but never like this, and they’re the best words in the world, in the universe.

“Remus,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him. He tastes intensely of you, and you laugh into the kiss. “I’m sorry I got you so… so slicky.”

“I don’t mind,” he chuckles. “Means it was good, right?”

“Beyond. ‘Good’ is like… like one colour out of a whole rainbow for how that just felt.”

He’s beaming down at you and kisses you again, lingering there.

When he finally separates from you, his caressing thumb comes to wipe some slick at the corner of your lip. You grab his hand and kiss each of his fingers lightly. Then you lick down his long index finger, your tongue finding and following a scar up his hand to his wrist.

You look into his eyes, and he’s staring at you, transfixed.

“I was thinking about your fingers when you were rolling the spliff.”

“Yeah?” His voice is a desperate sigh.

“Yeah.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“How beautiful your hands are. How they’d feel touching me… How your fingers would feel inside me…”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You wanna find out?”

“Yes,” you moan.

“Get them nice and wet for me, and I’ll show you.” They’re already lingering at your lips, but he slowly pushes them in. You welcome them enthusiastically and lazily suck on them, swirl your tongue around them.

“Fuck.” His voice is low. “Fuck, I want to feel everything there is to feel with you.”

“Mmm,” you nod, your mouth still full.

Remus takes his fingers out, kisses you, and lets his mouth stay on yours as his fingers trace down your chin, your chest, your stomach steadily, leaving a wet path. When they reach between your legs, you squirm in anticipation.

He rubs a couple of tight, slow circles on your clit. You’re so sensitive, and it feels amazing. You mewl into his mouth where it still hovers just above yours.

“Ready, my sunshine?”

“Mmhhmm.”

Remus pushes two fingers into you ever so slowly. You release a low, slow whine the whole time he takes to press in. He gives you gentle kisses, eating it up. When his fingers are in to the hilt, you wonder how you didn’t feel devastatingly empty every moment of your life before this one. When he adds a third, you’re sure you will every moment after.

You clench purposefully around him, and he moans into your mouth. Closing your eyes again, it’s the easiest thing to let yourself be consumed by the sensations, by Remus.

When he curls his fingers inside you, you clench again, this time automatically. You grip his hair and clutch his back, your arms pulling his body close to yours.

The spot he starts massaging feels like it’s a blazing fire, but everywhere else you’re connected, your chests, your mouths, is scattered scalding embers.

You’re savouring every second, every sensation, already feeling another high building but relishing in the time it’ll take to get there.

You run your hands down Remus’s back, feeling the bumps of his scars, the grooves of his defined muscles. For the first time all afternoon, you feel a desire to hurry…

You start moving your hips to meet his rhythm, eager, even more than for your own climax, for your turn to take your time on him.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus x reader #remus x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin smut #marauder x reader #marauders fanfic #sirius black #james potter #marauders fluff #marauders smut #remus lupin oneshot #friends to lovers

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the-orange-tabby-cat · 2 months

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Wednesday: Part II

joel miller x fem!reader

Summary of the fic: For the last 5 years, every Wednesday you watched a handsome man walk by your street with a lilac bouquet in hands. Except he doesn't stroll on your street this Wednesday, he shows up at your grief support group. 🐾

read on AO3 | masterlist | previous chapter

Warnings: No outbreak AU, Grief and its implications, Reader lost her mom, Reader's mom has a name (but no physical description), Group therapy, Grief support group, Parent grief, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Fluff, No use of y/n

Word count of the chapter: 3,6k

II. BUTTERCUPS

In how many boxes could you put your whole life? Your mom could do it in 12. There are 12 boxes in your living room, all about her. You’ve been ignoring it since the day you put everything inside them and said to yourself that you could do it in another moment when grief didn’t overwhelm you. It has been over 5 years.

You peaked the boxes here and there over the years, of course. You left part of them between your apartment storage and Grandpa’s house, who was much more in day with them. He gathered the memories, cleaned up the gunk and decided to hold on only to what it was personal — her handwritten recipes, the photo albums, her favorite record.

It was Henry’s idea to review all these boxes, he had helped his parents to move and leave his childhood house behind, including Sam’s room.

“I have my own place, Sam didn’t live with me, and look at how I’m doing. Thought my parents could move on easier if they didn’t have his bedroom waiting for him, you know? They cleaned up a bit after, you know, but his things were there still. I got to myself some of his comics and one of his action figures, everything else we donated.” He said to you last grief support group meeting while sipping coffee.

“How do you feel now?” You asked in a small voice.

“Like some weight left my shoulders, honestly. His stuff is just stuff, they aren’t him. The meaning behind it is what makes us cling to it. I prefer to have memories of him than have everything waiting for his return.”

You nodded in guilty of the boxes waiting for your review. If your mom didn’t accumulate so much while raising you, traveling, meeting people, maybe you wouldn’t be in this position of choosing which things you could keep.

“You should do it too, give it a try.” Henry smiled tightly and went to sit in the circle. You sighed and texted your uncle if he was free that weekend.

And here you are, with 12 boxes opened and ready for you. Uncle Michael has been an angel, trying to make this somewhat easier on you. After Grandpa, the family moved on quickly from it. They found themselves back on a routine, on their daily habits and she became a memory, not a constant. He lived his grief privately, never speaking in detail with you both because he knew that neither was ready for it. He was more than happy to help you with the boxes, even more if it meant to get you out of the perpetual grief inside your apartment.

The twins came with him, another good thing since they were playing with the cat and leaving you and your uncle alone with the 12 boxes. Too many things, you were already lost on it.

“Okay, kiddo, have you ever done this before?” You shook your head still looking at the boxes. “Don’t worry. Abby and I had to do this to grandma’s stuff, it’ll be like a band-aid. The sooner you rip it off, the better, alright?”

“What have you done with grandma’s things? Like… Have you donated? Gave to people close to her? How do you choose what to keep?” You asked putting both hands on your hips and trying to choose which box to start from.

“We choose to keep whatever we had attached memories to it. It wasn’t my idea, of course, Abby led it. She separated what we would be heartbroken to lose and everything else we gave away. Do you know how many dishcloths grandma had? Over a 100, I counted myself.”

You laughed at the memory of your mom calling you to say she had never seen that many dishcloths inside the same drawer. She sounded happy in that call, not emotionally drenched from running her mother’s stuff. You can do it.

12 boxes became 3 piles as the afternoon became night. Uncle Michael made a pile of everything that he would donate to the Salvation Army, a second pile for the things he would keep for him (you almost started a fight for her harmonica, but he knew how to play it and you had no clue) and third one for what you choose to keep.

Her sea animal drawings, some technical books, her jewelry box, her fridge magnets and postcard collections, got even an old cardigan that she would always use in winter inside the house. You did feel lighter like it wasn’t no longer in the back of your mind that at some point you would have to open every single box and be reminded that she was no longer here.

Uncle Michael was still separating some books to donate when a picture fell from one of them. You saw a little girl’s face and smiled at how much of her features she still in her mature face after growing up. He nodded for you to get closer to the picture.

“Look it. You kinda looked alike, see?” He pointed to some parts of her face, the ones you haven’t noticed in you in a while. You couldn’t help but smile at it.

“Never saw this. Does it have a date?” Uncle Michael turned the picture and in a corner you could read May, 1972. “She was an only child yet.”

“Yeah, that’s why she is smiling, still had some peace,” you both laughed at it. With a smile on his lips, Uncle Michael put the picture in your hands. “You should give it to Grandpa. He is always at his office, this picture is from a window near his table, see? I think he would like to have it.”

You pondered about it, if his behavior had some connection to the picture just like Joel’s lilacs were still connected to Sarah. Joel. You haven’t seen him in a while, mostly getting updates here and there from Tess. Maybe he was busy with his own set of boxes too, cleaning up his baggage a box at a time.

Ink moves faster in the paper getting shape little by little. You are near the catering listening to Henry’s story, but your mind is focused on taking every detail of Joel’s side profile.

He is oblivious to it, lost in his thoughts to notice you drawing him from afar. Rare are the moments he allows himself to come to the grief support group meetings, you can count on your fingers how many times you saw him on Wednesdays since his first time.

“Since when did you become an artist?” Henry teases you as he tries to sneak a peek at your sketchbook, gaining a push from you.

“I already told you, this is for therapy. I won’t show you shit.” Closing the sketchbook, you move around the table trying to look busy as Joel walks in your direction.

You are getting bolder with every new interaction, including bringing your sketchbook for the grief support group just in case you run into him. Not that you would ever share your drawings with him, that would be creepy. Some habits are private, not shared.

Joel, despite being unaware of the impact he has on you, seems to be getting more comfortable in your presence as well. His hair is a little shorter than the last time you saw him, months ago. You miss the curls but enjoy how his square jaw is more evident. His smile is genuine and you can’t help but smile back. There is some calming quality about him, something that makes you want to stay by his side whenever he shows up at these meetings. And this is exactly what you do.

“Want some coffee? Black, right?” You ask but start to pour right away, not waiting for his response.

“Thank you. Have you seen Tess? She said to meet her here.” His eyes don’t avoid yours, holding to the weight of your stare as he tastes the coffee.

“Didn’t she say something about a doctor’s appointment earlier today?” Henry tries to remember and Joel frowns a bit but quickly vanishes from his face when Frank gets everyone to sit in the circle.

Today is a special meeting, the type you avoid every year, a death anniversary kind of meeting. You know it from before coming here because Hannah made sure to say every five minutes last week. And here she is, looking bright as new even if it is her sister’s death anniversary.

You shouldn’t judge how someone mourns their dead ones, your mom raised you better than that, and yet there is an uncontained jealousy spreading all over your body at how easily Hannah can use a dreadful date as a sweet reminder of her sister’s life.

You are lost on her words, still clinging to your jealousy of how easygoing she is about it. She is speaking nonstop and you wish nothing but to shut her up.

“She planned it, you know. Her funeral. I hated her for it, making my nephew and I think of her in this position. She had been struggling to breathe in her palliative care and still found time to make us understand that her death wouldn’t mean the absence of her in our lives. I try to make him still feel her around as time goes by.

“This is a buttercup from her funeral wreath, she chose herself the yellow because it was our bedroom color when we were growing up. I saved this one for me, I keep it on my nightstand as if we were still little girls sharing a room.”

The dried flower was sitting delicately in her hands, she held it with such care that you felt bitter for having envied her. There were unshed tears in her eyes, you wondered what was worse: losing a loved one violently, abruptly, or seeing them slowly dying without being able to help?

Being able to say goodbye, to cherish a final moment, was something that you couldn’t have with your mom. What would you say to someone you knew it was about to die? No idea but it is glued to your mind since you realized through the meetings that everyone has a final moment with their loved one, whether they choose or not.

You can’t remember your final words to your mom. You hope it was “I love you”.

Tess joins the meeting in a hurry, sunglasses on even if it is evening. Without a word, she plops next to Joel (who was kind enough to spare a spot next to him) and dismisses any question he might have with a hand before crossing her arms.

His eyes search for yours in a “Do you know something about it?” just to receive a “not a clue” from you. In your slow friendship, you became able to identify the meaning behind his frowns, even more so since Joel appears to be always worried about something.

Hannah finishes her sharing and tucks delicately the dried buttercup back into her purse, with that the atmosphere shifts back to the regular meeting state but your mind drifts to Hannah and her sister's last moments.

Did they plan her final day? Was Hannah with her in her final breath? What were her sister’s final words? Part of you want answers because maybe, just maybe, they won’t make you feel jealous anymore.

Joel’s eyes are boring into yours, you notice as you move from Hannah’s purse back to him. The perpetual frown is there, now asking you “Are you okay?” and you nod just once in response. He doesn’t take it as true but gets his attention back to Frank as the man starts to speak.

“Thank you, Hannah. Bringing with you the buttercup was very sweet, thank you for sharing.” Frank affirmation dawns on you, the woman brought with her the last connection with her sister from such a private space of her life and you are here feeling jealous.

Your hand goes straight to the necklace resting on your neckline. The small starfish pendant that your mother gave to you as a graduation gift, “You’ll always be my star, baby” she said as she hugged you. What if you lost it one day? Would you also lose another part of her?

“Tess, glad you could get here in time. The space is yours.” Frank smiles sweetly to a groaning Tess.

“Yeah, okay. Let me just, sh-,” she angrily moves in her chair and gets a flyer from her back pocket, shoving it in Joel’s hand to move around. “Santa Lucia Hospital is low on blood donations, again. It wouldn’t be a surprise to some of you the amount of times I went on emergency and needed one of those. So yeah, I spoke with Frank and Henry earlier, we’re thinking about doing something to help their campaign to get more donors.”

Henry’s arms are resting on his knees as he nods to Tess’ words. “If you can donate, please do. One bag can help up to three people.”

He once lost his baby brother to sickness too, just like Hannah. You never questioned Henry about his final words to Sam, just like you never envied him for being able to say goodbye. You saw behind his actions how much Sam’s presence was a ghost he was still struggling to deal with. It made so much sense that he, from all the people in the grief support group, would help this cause.

“You can count on me for it.” You spoke right away, but the same second that a smile appeared on your lips, it froze as you noticed a stare exchange between Frank, Henry, and Tess. “What?”

“This is a state campaign. The hospital receives people from all over Texas, they’ll be holding the main donation in Houston. At the beach.” Frank stated with a sad smile.

You faded little by little. Most of the group knew about your situation, except a few people like Joel who was frowning at you in anticipation.

“It's okay, guys. Really. I can donate at the hospital here in Austin, maybe help with the logistics overall before the campaign day?” It was fine, it was. At least you tried to tell yourself that as you held once more the starfish pendant.

“That would be lovely, I’m sure we’ll need as much help as possible.” Frank tried to amend it before choosing another person to speak.

Later on, when everyone was getting ready to leave, you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you faced Joel somewhat closer than you have ever been to him before. You tried to keep your cool hoping he didn’t notice.

“Tess asked me to tell you that if you need help delivering the materials for the campaign, you can use my truck.” He said almost whispering, like a secret that only you could hear.

“Thanks, Joel. Can I have your number? So I can sort out the logistics.” You tried hoping for a yes and received an eager nod.

In a weird circumstance, you met Joel on a Friday. You had to check your calendar a few times, just to make sure, but yes, he would meet you soon enough on a Friday morning, 8 am.

He cleared his whole day to focus on Tess’ campaign, you knew they were best friends and it just reinforced that. His truck was parked in the university lot, near the lab where you were still finishing some analysis as you waited for him.

He knocked at the glass window, gaining your attention. You made a quick gesture for him to wait before proceeding to take the gloves and your coat before walking out the door.

“Hey, Joel. Thank you for coming by to get everything, I put the stuff in the office, c’mon.” You started to guide him through the university’s corridor, but he was still looking into the lab from the window. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” he quickly replied following your steps.

“It’s these t-shirts and the stress balls, I put everything in that corner.” You pointed to the other side of the room, as you opened the door for him to enter.

Joel’s eyes were taking in the wall decor: your mom’s sea animal drawings, some shells at the table close to the exposed shark cranium. The office screamed marine biologist, or at least that you should be out there at the sea.

He must have noticed and kept to himself, too polite to get in your business. The comfortable silence filled the room as you collected all the materials before making the way back to the truck, but you could feel him thinking about it. Why the hell would a woman who studies the sea and their animals have a problem with being at the beach?

You faced that question whenever someone asked you to do on-site research, which you would politely recuse. For years the head professor of the department tried to tag you along, but you would say a harsh no. You were happy with reviewing papers, doing your best at the university’s lab, avoiding the sea breeze directly on your face.

Joel glanced once or twice at your face as you kept your eyes staring in front of you, too afraid of his reaction to your small secret.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? I can give you a ride.” He asked simply, opening the truck so you could put everything there.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Send my love to everyone, will you?” With a smile, you tried to get your shit together.

He smiled back before hopping in the driver's seat, leaving you alone with your thoughts and memories. Is not like you couldn’t get back to the beach, you could. The sand between your toes, the water splashing around, how the boat moves between the waves… You missed everything dearly, but couldn’t be there. Not yet, at least.

The day went by, nothing new happened. When you getting ready to leave the university, your phone lit up with a new notification from Joel’s number.

Got a big one for your collection, x

He wrote with an image of a big pink shell, almost the size of his hand, attached. A grin appeared on your face automatically, as if it was the first time you saw one of those.

I love it! It’s so pretty! Thank you, you wrote back still shocked he took his time to go shell searching for you.

Maybe this is why you decided to open those 12 boxes, to create room for new objects and the memories they represent as you live.

“You are late,” Grandpa mumbles as you enter the room. There is a gift carefully wrapped in your hand but he doesn’t care, he is too busy staring at your face in search of a motive.

“Yes, I am. Got caught up on work, sorry.” You place the gift next to him not minding to justify your actions longer, he hates excuses even when they are true.

Today isn’t the case. Deep down you know he knows you lied about work, too much time in a family event without her doesn’t sit right with you. She was the glue between you all, conversations don’t run as easily as before.

You already greeted everyone when entering the house, from your uncle to your cousins who still give you a sympathetic look at these family gatherings. They can sense your discomfort from afar, no matter how much you try to sound interested in their lives you can’t keep up with them, you can barely keep up with Grandpa.

There’s laughing and chattering next door, your uncle is retelling some old family joke. You can almost hear the sound of her laughing with them. Grandpa must read your mind as unwraps the gift.

“You know, Abby’s favorite spot to hide was behind the curtains of that window. I could always find her there after a long day. I think I use here as a hiding place too, she found a good spot for clearing the mind.”

His voice was soft just like his gaze between you and the paper he was tearing apart, revealing a picture in a gold frame. You didn’t hesitate to frame a picture of your mom when a girl leaning from behind these curtains as a birthday gift after Uncle Michael's commentary.

“Found it in one of her boxes, I think she stole it from grandma. Thought it should be here in your office, not in a cardboard box in my storage room.”

Grandpa nodded as his thumb was caressing the little girl’s face. Her toothless grin, the dimple on her cheek, everything made Grandpa travel back in time.

“I took this photo, did you know that? She lost her tooth earlier that day and felt ugly without it. Found her here and took some photos as she giggled, showing that beautiful smile.” His other hand found yours, holding it tightly. “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, Grandpa.” You replied ignoring the tightness in your throat as you watched his face lighten up. “Do we still have cake?”

He placed the frame at his desk, facing the window’s curtains, and got up from the chair guiding you to the laugh in the kitchen. The cake with candles signing 84 was right in the middle, you scootch yourself to a corner as everyone found a space around the kitchen’s island to sing Happy Birthday. Glancing around, you made mental notes about the smiles on their faces, the lightness of your grandpa’s eyes looking back at his family. He was living the moment, not holding on to the past just like a second ago.

When Grandpa blew out the candles, you made a wish too: to allow yourself to feel peace, not just longing.

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Taglist: @islacharlotte, @anoverwhelmingdin, @aquanatalie

#joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic #the last of us #the last of us hbo #wednesday series

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jmdbjk · 1 year

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The air is different...

All my thoughts and ramblings have been piling up. I have had to resort to just jotting down notes. Some stuff is already outdated because: already resolved or already happened. Time is moving swiftly yet at a snail’s pace. 2025 is still an eternity away. Yet...

I was talking to my friend the other day and I remarked “it’s like there's been this paradigm shift since (Jin enlisted)... Jin is handling weapons on the daily, Jimin is blonde again, JK is too skinny, Tae eating Mexican food, we're speculating about Yoongi driving military generals around like some sort of movie plot (because we were)... it's like an alternate universe or something.

In this au fic, Jin becomes a sniper on special ops teams. Except during a mission he gives away his position when he starts laughing his windshield wiper laugh. Or better yet, he uses his windshield wiper laugh as an audible secret signal to his fellow green berets...the enemy never suspects...

Once Jimin enlists, he becomes South Korea’s own version of Mata Hari, exotic dancer turned spy and infiltrates North Korea and returns with the news that their ramyeon sucks. My god, they don’t even put eggs in it. And as I said, Yoongi ends up driving military generals around. Strangely, he’s the chauffeur that won’t shut up and gives them a more simplified and rational viewpoint of how ridiculous this all is. They actually listen. He is also in high demand making individual regiment OSTs. You know, the things they chant while they are doing marching drills...there she was just a walkin’ down the street singing do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do...

Anyway. Humor is a coping mechanism and last couple days have been very emotional. Someone please write that fanfic asap.

Let’s talk about Slender Jungkook... He’s turned into some sort of mysterious Slenderman of BTS. This gluten-free-meat-restaurant-protein-heavy diet has made him a lean mean bunny. It’s sort of startling to see slim JK juxtaposed next to the others. Especially Jimin who appears to be getting bulkier. Kookie is not filling out his puffer jackets and baggy pants...or even slim pants, as much as he used to.

Okay, here’s the deal, I understand there is content in the bank supposedly to last us until 2025... we’ll see... but I already know I am not buying Legos, special coins or Korean postage stamps. Those don’t count as content or merch. Just sayin’. I know they tried to tempt us with Cookie Kingdom nonsense but that was a washout for me.

What we did get: Indigo merch... we got Jack in the Box merch, we got Wootteo and The Astronaut merch... you know what that means? We will be getting merch for Jimin’s album... and everyone else’s as well. Jimin, if you’re reading this, I will pay money for a nice flowy robe-like garment that screams “Jimin would wear this while lounging on his couch wearing nothing else.” And jewelry, hell yes. Give me some dangly earrings that Jimin designed please. If he comes out with some sort of leather merch, the implications...(closes the door on my imagination before things get out of hand, so to speak.)

Jimin... I beg of you, please design a robe like this:

The thought of stuffed animals and pillow cases as his merch... I hope not.

I know this was days/weeks ago but WTF Yoongi? He is channeling 19th century rakish scoundrel here.

And Tae’s fo-fo and how he’s definitely catering to the wimmins. Swooning could be heard across the planet when his fo-fo hit the internet. I saw someone say Tae was not channeling Darcy, he was more of a Willoughby. If you know, you know I guess. What got me was the horse... the ultimate phallic symbol.

Now Taeyang having Jimin feature on a song for his upcoming album. I don’t know BigBang except for some negative things I’ve read. I do know who G-Dragon is. He supposedly has an apartment in the same complex with Joon and Jimin? I might be wrong about that. So we supposedly get to hear Jimin on Taeyang’s song in January. I’ll take anything. We’re desperate here.

I know this post was all over the place but that’s how I’ve been this last week or two. This time of the year also does not offer any calm respite either.

We have even more changes coming. The air is already different with our Jinnie’s military service started. The past was honestly the best, but we need to look to the future, to their future when they return to us in 2025. They will be different. We will be different. Hobi, Jin and Joon have shown us artistically how much they’ve grown this year. We supposedly still have four more artistic efforts coming before the end of 2023. And we have six more enlistment days coming.

My feelings are still raw. I know they were all emotional but my heart is still aching. I have no better words to say about being able to see all of this unfold in front of my eyes than I’m grateful to be part of it, even with how intensely emotional it is.

#slenderman JK #jimin #jungkook #jin #taehyung #yoongi

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deancoded-deangirl · 1 year

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here’s why hum hallelujah is fall out boy’s best song, no contest or competition.

under the cut because it’s long.

hum hallelujah comes from infinity on high, which is one of fall out boy’s best albums-- commercially speaking, it debuted at number one on the Billboard 200, compared to FUTCT’s peaking at number nine, and FAD at number eight. IOH charted top five worldwide, even making the list for that year’s top 50 albums.

Fall out boy is well known for two things: patrick stump’s incomprehensible vocals, and pete wentz’s iconic and nuanced lyrics. it’s no secret that TTTYG and FUTCT (et al) were filled with both of those things, but I don’t think that anything hit quite as hard as infinity on high, and more to the point, Hum Hallelujah.

see, hum hallelujah does something that all of their songs do: it takes metaphors, analogies, common phrases, and twists them. it makes them into something new with so many layers that the english major in me spins. there’s no right or wrong answer about interpreting the lyrics, because so many layers are built into it, a truly multifaceted song. But it adds something else. Hum Hallelujah adds religion into it, as a core part of the song.

during this dissection, i’m going to be treating the “I” in the song as a narrator, and “you” as the listener/audience, although you can substitute the “you” to mean a separate third person, and that the audience is merely privy to the story.

we start hum hallelujah off with:

“It's all a game of this or that, now versus then Better off against worse for wear“

listeners have probably heard someone being asked or told that it is a choice between this or that. that’s the common phrase we all know. fob adds now versus then, and follows it up with “better off against worse for wear”. so now the choice is not this or that-- it’s “do you want to be better off or worse for wear?” and those are the two options that the narrator sees happening. Their common theme? The narrator and listener are separated. When someone leaves, you are either better off or worse for wear, but it’s not until they’re gone that you’ll know.

“And you're someone who knows someone Who knows someone I once knew I just want to be a part of this“

we’ve all heard that before. “i knew someone who knew someone” etc. fob adds to it. the stretch between the narrator and whoever it is is a gossamer thin thread, but they want to be part of it so badly, they are desperate. another common phrase flipped and made new.

“The road outside my house Is paved with good intentions“

The common adage “the road to hell is paved with good intentions” is here. The listener is well aware of what the implication is. The narrator’s house is hell, without even needing to be told. This is the first instance-- but by no means the last-- of Hum Hallelujah’s religious inspiration.

“Hired a construction crew 'Cause it's hell on the engine“

and they complete the above phrase, but with a choose your own adventure of what it could mean. Is the narrator trying to fix up hell? Is the narrator hiring a construction crew because he’s trying to get out of hell and his car can’t make it? Is it simply another play on the phrase?

The first, but by no means the last.

“And you are the dreamer and we are the dream I could write it better than you ever felt it“

they take a step back from the religion. now we go back to futct’s fundamental lyrics, about being lonely and disconnected from love. You would think that the dreamer would know the feeling better than the dream. After all, how can a dream know the feelings of the dreamer? And yet there is this smug phrasing that implies that the narrator is just that good.

and though this is the first mention of lyrics that will tie into hum hallelujah’s ultimate theme of desperate love, not a single line outside of that scope feels out of place in the song.

“So hum hallelujah Just off the key of reason“

when someone hums, obviously they’re going to be in a key, if not the key of the song, and the narrator says just off the key of reason. Does he want the listener to be reasonable? Or is the narrator saying that the reader is not reasonable? You could say he’s telling the listener to hum it, and therefore saying that the listener shouldn’t be reasonable, but the point is there’s so many dimensions to these lyrics. There’s so many different dimensions, and no necessarily wrong way, but the rest of the song leads the listener into one specific viewpoint.

“I thought I loved you, it was just how you looked in the light“

a common trope in love stories is that how someone looked in a particular lighting made someone else think of them differently. it also could refer to new information, something shines a new light on them. it could be a trick of the light. the narrator thought he loved the person, but it was fleeting, it was fair-weathered, it was temporary.

“A teenage vow in a parking lot 'Til tonight do us part“

These lyrics strengthen the argument that the last two lines were about temporary love. A teenage vow-- teenage love is always shifting, always evolving. A parking lot is no place to vow permanence. And then they will part after tonight. it’s a play on wedding vows, making a mockery of the permanence of those.

“I sing the blues and you swallow them too“

now, i’ve read dissections that say this refers to Pete’s drug use, and that fits in so I won’t talk about it here, but also because I’m speaking to the song as a whole. So far, this narrator has referred to themselves as fickle, temporary, and now blue. And the listener swallows the blues. The listener is eating up the sad emotions that the narrator provides. The use of the word “too” adds another level to this line. An implication is that it is an active choice of the listener to swallow them. The narrator is adding that as a statement of fact, not suggesting that the listener swallow his blues, but saying that the listener already does.

“My words are my faith, to hell with our good name“

here we go back to the religious symbolism. similar to the first pre-chorus, the narrator is talking about hell. He sings the blues, he gave a teenage vow, but his words are his faith. It seems almost as though the narrator doesn’t believe anything good could come out of his words. They’re his faith, and -> to hell with their good name, because of that. A tie-in to the “the road outside my house is paved with good intentions”. The narrator lives in hell. To hell with their good name.

“Remix of your guts, your insides x-rayed“

the narrator is dissecting the listener now, and nothing is hidden. everything is exposed. A remix is more commonly used in music terminology, and so the narrator seems to be saying that the song he is singing is what is exposing the listener.

“And one day we'll get nostalgic for disaster We're a bull, your ears are just a china shop“

A bull in a china shop-- another well known phrase. Naming that they are the bull and your ears are a china shop (which is where my belief that “you” refers to the listener/audience instead of a separate third person comes from), right after saying they’ll get nostalgic for disaster. One day they’ll get nostalgic for the current disaster. Because the narrator is singing the blues-- and therefore the person swallowing them is listening-- the implication is that the current disaster is the relationship between the narrator and listener. the implication is also that, to the narrator, the relationship is parasitic: the narrator provides nothing but destruction.

Not only that, but you can only get nostalgic for things you have left behind. The narrator is telling the listener that he will leave.

“I love you in the same way There's chapel in a hospital“

In what way is there a chapel in a hospital? The narrator brings us back to the religious theme, and gives us two lines rife with nuance. The narrator loves the listener in the same way there’s a chapel in a hospital, and so you have to think: who is the chapel in a hospital for? why do people go? when do people go?

I’ll give you a hint. A chapel in a hospital is for desperate people. Someone they love is in the hospital and they are appealing to a higher power. Now, you could tell me that someone who is religious would go to a chapel right off the bat anyway, but given the nature of this song-- how it is taking religious symbolism and turning it on its head to indicate that the narrator isn’t good-- I believe that the narrator is referring to the people who go to chapels because they’re desperate. The people who are appealing to someone they might not even believe in because it’s their last hope.

And then we go back to the desperate love feeling from the chorus. Loving someone in the same way there’s a chapel in a hospital is not permanent, and it’s not a good foundation. It’s built out of the wrong emotions. Further to the point, once the loved one is better, a person who doesn’t believe isn’t going to go to that chapel again. It’s temporary.

“One foot in your bedroom And one foot out the door“

Ties right back into the temporary. Having one foot out the door is indicative of someone about to run. Someone who loves the way someone prays in a chapel in a hospital. Someone who will get nostalgic for disaster.

“Sometimes we take chances, sometimes we take pills I could write it better than you ever felt it“

The first line of this harkens back to the “I sing the blues and you swallow them too” line. Both are zeugmas. And the way this is phrased indicates that the narrator believes it is one or the other.

It’s all a game of this or that.

When someone takes pills, it is to feel (or not feel) something. The narrator saying “I could write it better than you ever felt it” shortly after singing about how sometimes they take pills throws a bit of... almost as if the actual feelings don’t matter, because the narrator can fake it better. There’s almost a sense of smug superiority in this song, about how the disconnect of actual permanent love doesn’t mean the narrator can’t understand. If anything, he understands better than the listener.

After this, the rest of the song is a repeat of lines I’ve discussed before, but there is a bridge where the narrator is singing the lines to “hallelujah”. Singing, not humming.

The narrator is telling the listener to hum hallelujah-- off the key of reason-- but the narrator himself is singing hallelujah, and on key. Throughout the song there has been this disconnect between the listener and the narrator. With the listener being held on a pedestal, while the narrator degrades himself, but now the narrator is the one perfectly hitting his cues.

anyway, i am by no means saying that hum hallelujah is the only one of their songs covered with this much nuance, nor am i trashing their other songs, but something about hum hallelujah hits entirely different from their other songs on infinity on high-- and in general-- making it an entirely different experience, and making it worthy of the best song title.

#i love hum hallelujah so much #tbf i might be biased because i listened to it when i was in my crisis of faith in hs #so hearing 'i love you in the same way there's a chapel in a hospital' actually fundamentally changed me #like that line sends me frothing at the mouth #anyway here's my promised hum hallelujah dissection!#fall out boy #fob #hum hallelujah #infinity on high #ioh #this is also dedicated to that fob song showdown

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karatecaulfield · 1 year

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Total Eclipse (A Yasmoon Series)

prompts from: @fablememes

lavender haze - “meet me at midnight” + “all this shit is new to me”

Warnings: secret relationship, implications of internalized homophobia, mentions of struggles with sexuality

A/N- I’ve wanted to start writing for this ship for months. finally, here I am! this is going to be a series, all based on prompts from the account tagged above (inspired by taylor swift’s midnights album)

Moon stared at her phone, rereading the same message that Yasmine had sent her over an hour ago.

meet me at midnight?

This was the third time this week that Yasmine had asked her to sneak out and see her. She was getting tired of it. If they were actually going out it would be a different story, but Moon knew that it would be the same as before. The two of them sitting in an empty parking lot, making awkward small talk until one of them blurted out how desperately they want to be together. As if this was the 1950’s, and they couldn’t hold hands in public. Nevertheless, she was still going. If not to tell Yasmine how she really felt, at least to see her face again.

By the time she got there, her mind was reeling. Yasmine was perched on the hood of her car, waiting for her to show up. It was kind of romantic the first time they snuck out, and even the second. But now it felt like their lighthearted romance had turned into a serious drama. When she spotted Moon’s car, Yasmine quickly fixed her hair and sat up straighter. It made her smile a little, but it wasn’t enough to take away the feeling that was nestled inside of her gut.

“I didn’t know if you were coming…” Yasmine sighed with relief, holding a hand out for Moon to take.

“I always do,” she said. She took Yasmine’s hand, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up at her.

“What’s wrong?” She wanted to pull Moon closer, but she dropped her hand instead. It felt easier for Yasmine.

“I’m just getting a little tired of hiding…” Moon admitted, finally raising her gaze. She wished that she hadn’t the second her eyes met Yasmine’s. They were so big and blue, taken aback by her confrontational words.

“I don’t know what else to do.” Yasmine admitted, wrapping her arms around herself. She suddenly looked cold, but it wasn’t even below seventy degrees outside.

“We could try to go out for real…” Moon grabbed Yasmine by the shoulders, but not in an aggressive way. In fact, she was unnaturally gentle about it. The feeling of her fingertips made Yasmine’s stomach do a flip.

“I… I can’t.” She took a step back, leaving Moon stunned by the action. She had been more than patient with Yasmine, but this felt like a hard slap in the face.

“Do you know how it feels to be hidden away by somebody you love? To be their dirty little secret?” Moon asked, tears pooling in her eyes. Yasmine closed her own eyes to avoid the image of her crying being burned into her brain.

“That isn’t fair,” she shook her head.

“This isn’t fair!” Moon sobbed. She had never raised her voice at Yasmine before, but she got dangerously close in this moment. “You tell me you love me like I love you, but you can barely even touch me. You don’t even look at me half of the time!”

Yasmine flinched, then slowly opened her eyes to make a point. She was crying now too, her eyes rimmed with red and tears sparkling on her cheeks. When she made eye contact with Moon, it felt like a cosmic shift had just taken place. Yasmine had never doubted her feelings for the girl standing before her, but she was so afraid of what everyone would think if she said the words out loud. She’d bullied people for less a couple years ago, but she wasn’t proud to admit that. She knew her karma was coming for her at some point, and she hoped that it wasn’t right now. She couldn’t lose Moon.

“All of this shit is new to me.” Her voice was shaky, also on the verge of shouting. “It took me seventeen years to finally admit to myself that I like girls, how could I possibly just flaunt the fact down the street?”

“I’m not saying we should make out in public, I just want to see you while the sun is still out!” Moon was still crying, her eyes swollen and cheeks tinted pink. “We’ve been friends for so long, but now we only see each other at odd hours in the dark.”

“You aren’t just a friend to me,” Yasmine took a step forward. It wasn’t a big deal to the untrained eye, but she might as well have just gotten down on a bended knee to Moon. “I don’t know how to do this, Moon. I’m not like you, I’ve never fallen in love before.”

Moon’s entire being deflated. It was true that she had been in love before. With women and men. It was kind of a problem, how much she loved to be in love. But that was before finding out that Yasmine was interested in her. Moon had stuck by her side for so long waiting for a chance, but she’d never realized that while her partners came and went, Yasmine never entertained anybody for very long either. She knew now that it was because she was battling her sexuality. Possibly even battling her love for her, just like she was right now.

“It doesn’t have to be so hard, Yas.” Moon sighed, taking a step forward as well. They were within arms distance from one another. “You just have to let me in like I’m trying to let you in.”

She watched Moon for a moment, her eyes still wide and watery. She thought back to all the times that Moon tried to lean against her shoulder or play with her hair. She’d always felt strange about it and turned away, like someone was watching her and judging the action.

“I want you to hold me,” Yasmine blurted. When Moon gave her a puzzled look, she sighed with frustration. “Now, right now. Please hold me.”

“Okay.” Moon was still confused, but she did as Yasmine asked. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around Yasmine’s shoulders. Moon pulled her close, resting her head against Yasmine’s bare shoulder.

She was stiff as a board. After a few seconds she wrapped her arms around Moon’s waist, pulling her into her body with one swift, desperate movement. The feeling of Moon’s head on her shoulder made her stomach do another flip. She lowered her own head onto Moon’s shoulder, letting her forehead brush against the knitted sweater she’d given her as a gift.

“I love you,” Yasmine mumbled against the fabric.

“I love you too, Yas.” Moon let out a breath. It wasn’t the first time they’d said that, but now it felt more real for some reason. “All I want to do is love you.”

Yasmine lifted her head from Moon’s shoulder. She pulled back until Moon followed suit, and they both searched each other’s eyes for the next move. They both knew what they wanted to do at once, but a million other thoughts shouted over one another and distracted Yasmine from saying it. Moon knew that she would never be able to say it.

“Don’t move,” Moon instructed. It took Yasmine by surprise since she was never the demanding type, but she did as she was told and stood incredibly still.

Gently, Moon held Yasmine’s face in her hands and brought their lips together. Everything in the world stopped moving. Moon could only hear Yasmine’s heartbeat. It sounded like a love song that she heard on the radio. Yasmine could only taste Moon’s mouth. She tasted like cinnamon and sugar.

The kiss itself was tame and sweet. Yasmine thought some terrible things before her heart started to sound louder than her head. She was so tired of fighting herself. It felt good when she finally let go, giving herself fully to Moon as they kissed. When they broke apart, she was still hazy.

“The world won’t come to an end if you kiss a girl, my love,” Moon whispered. She rested her forehead against Yasmine’s.

“Thank you.” Yasmine’s voice cracked as she spoke. She opened her mouth to go on, but Moon silenced her with another gentle kiss.

Sometimes it’s just easier to shut the demons up than it is to fight them hands on.

#requests open #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai one shot #cobra kai yasmine #cobra kai moon #yasmoon #yasmoon one shot #yasmoon imagine #sfw #total eclipse series #karatecaulfield

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mitzisarchive · 1 year

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Marauders as mitski songs

i stand by what i said in the previous one, and i think i’m going to make this a series purely because i want to

this time, we’re here to analyze my own interpretation of remus lupin through mitski’s Dan The Dancer because lately i’m seeing a weird characterization of remus and it makes me sad because i love him wholeheartedly

before we start: this is not a complete analysis, i just explore a facet of the character through a song and using exclusively my own interpretation of both the character and the song. there’s a previous part with sirius “why didn’t you stop me” black that you can find in my profile, go check it out if this interest you!

having said that, let’s start with remus “dan the dancer” lupin

___________________________________________________

we’re in Puberty 2 and this album is all about pain, as mitski has us used to, but dan the dancer it’s not about pain -not entirely at least- dan the dancer is about vulnerability

“Dan had very long limbs // From leading day to day //Hanging onto a cliff // That stretched him everyday”

Dan, our protagonist, is every day hanging onto a cliff (you can choose what this mean, maybe poor mental health, maybe a bad situation) and this task has changed him to the point that his limbs have been elongated.

little 11 year old remus has already suffered enough when he arrives hogwarts, being a werewolf does not only condemn him to have to go through the full moons (not only alone, but chained as well) but to social ostracism. he knows that, he knows that even if he gets to graduate there’s no job waiting for him outside nor there’s no stable future for him. he’s holding onto the cliff with so much force his limbs have elongated and his personality hardened.

remus is this little kid who laughs and hides under oversized jumpers and books, but time-to-time the mask falls and the truth is visible. remus dry sense of humor is nothing but a desperate way to cope with all that’s happening in his life. because there’s no situation too hard for god to solve, but remus is a kid and he’s alone and he can’t do anything but hold onto te cliff, without any hope he’ll ever reach the safety back at top. the cliff being, of course, the facade he has to put on every month when the moon approaches.

the elongated limbs are a good reference to remus’ height , but so they are as a reference to his physical appearance. Dan’s limbs are longer due to him holding onto the edge , and remus entire body is covered in scars due to greyback’s attack.

“And when she'd ask to hold hands // He would smile and // Let one of his hands go // His whole life in one hand // His whole life”

then someone enters his life, someone who asks Dan to hold hands. and Dan, who is holding onto the cliff, lets go of one of his hands so he can hold hands with her. the only thing keeping Dan from falling is one hand (his whole life in one hand) and even now, Dan is smiling.

sirius enters his life, as well as the other marauders, but i’d like to focus on sirius because of the obvious romantic implications Dan and this “she” have. Remus is holding onto this facade, saying he has some sort of muggle illness and keeping everyone away, but things don’t always go as planned and he grows fond of these boys, and so do they. maybe he lets one of his hands go the day they confessed knowing about his lycanthropy, or maybe it’s later, when he allows them seeing him during the transformation as animagi. anyways, this is remus being vulnerable with them, this is remus finally opening himself to them.

“And when he'd say goodnight and // Leave her doorstep // He'd use his last strength // To wave back”

“Once back in his room // He'd return his waving hand // Back to its cliff”

yet, even if remus opened to them, he’s still holding onto the cliff, because he’s keeping his mask on when he’s facing everyone else. the reason why is obvious, but it doesn’t make it any easier. that “he’d use his last strength to wave back” hits so hard because opening isn’t easy for remus, because even though he trusts them with his life, being vulnerable is so difficult.

“he liked her more than life itself”

ok, i’m the #1 wolfstar stan, and this is remus about sirius completely.

sirius is this person remus is always letting his hand go for, he’s this person who he will always wave back even when holding himself onto a cliff.

sirius is this person remus opens up entirely, who he trusts and shares his dreams and his fears. definitely, sirius is the person remus likes more than life itself.

and that’s why the prank hurts so bad.

“'Cause Dan had never danced outside of his room // When no one was home and he would start to hear the door // So when he moved with you //And felt his body let go”

“Of course you couldn't know // It was you and you alone // That he had shown his bedroom dancer to (x5) //And he would never tell you that it was his first time”

this is the part in which i kinda disagree (can you disagree with a song tho?), i’m okay with the idea that remus only truly opened himself to sirius (maybe you want to consider Grant in this, but even if i loved atyd i won’t use it as canon) but not with the “you couldn’t know it was you and you alone” because even if we justify it with sirius attachment and self-esteem issues, i refuse to think that sirius didn’t know how special he was to remus, because he knew

he knew because remus was just the same for sirius.

i love them so much omg

———————————————————————————

remus lupin and his issues, am i right?

i really like remus, even though i’m kinda uncomfortable with the new characterization? the casanova of the gryffindor tower????

i just feel like they’re sexualizing every character a bit too much, y’know

uh, idk, hope you liked it!

#remus lupin #marauders #sirius black #wolfstar #i’m a mitski brainrot i’m sorry #mitski songs #mitski #harry potter

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unionize-aromantically · 6 months

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YCGMA review

OK, so ages ago I am said I was going to review your city gave me asthma. Um, so I might do that now. Using the Dictation tool in Microsoft Word. Coming back to write this start at the end, now I'm just going to say I really hate that this program censors swear words. Like, literally Why? If I say swear words, it's because I want to write swear words. What the ****?

I haven't done too much editing on this, so if it's kind of weird and kind of very obviously spoken word, that's probably why. I am just prioritizing my hands today.

So the first song in the album is Jubilee line. And I really like it. I really like the clip of like, idk, regular life audio. It was really cool when I went to the train, took the railway in London. And got to experience it for myself. My favorite lyric from that song is probably “Shout at the wall. ‘cause the walls don’t fucking love you.” I do have this song in some playlists, but it's not one of my favorites. It's totally fine.

The next song is Saline solution. I really liked this song for singing about painkillers personally, as someone who has to rely on painkillers a lot. I really like the language in the song. Uh, it's funny. It's, um, poetic in a funny way. Elixir and melodramatic and pragmatic. Yeah, it's just greatly enjoyable. This is one of my favorite songs from the album.

The next song is Since I Saw Vienna. I don't listen to this much anymore. But I can't play this on guitar. Uh. It was the first song I learned with like picking or however you say that technique like instead of playing chords. And uh, it's uh yeah, it's not bad. But it's a lot more allo than I'm personally a fan of. I will admit it is genuinely really fun to play on a guitar.

The next song in the album is Losing Face. Basically, it's about, well, losing face. This one's really high energy, which like, really like. It's good for when you're in the bad place. And as generally losing face implies, it's that it really expresses that feeling of being completely out of control. And like you, you just have to be honest because yeah, you can't anymore. And to quote the song, it's like. “Well, I don't know what to do.” And yeah, it's, um, losing hope. And just like. What? What is even why? And I guess in the actual song it's about specific situation. Uh, so that's a thing. I don't really care as much about the specific situation.

The next song is Your sister was Right. I think it's generally about like this feeling that you're like a bad person. And I don't know if that's a feeling that's very good to entertain for too long. The problem with identifying yourself as a bad person who does bad things is, it may hinder you from making improvements in how you act. It depends a bit, but I think this is one can easily be destructive. It can also be nice when you feel like you can't admit your mistakes. And to just like. Yeah, get out of your head with a different opinion. Um, I don't know.

And then there is La Jolla. So this song is one of the reasons you should listen to this album as a whole. Rather than individual songs. Because it uh.I don't want to spoil too much, but this hints at a later song. I think you could definitely argue that this song is about like depression or like chronic bad mood, but those are basically the same. Technically, depression often doesn't have a cause. I believe. This album is, as earlier stated, kind of about hating London. And at least from what Wilbur has said himself it's about Hypochondria or like health anxiety. Oh, but yeah. Anyway, back to the song, it mentions self-hate, which is like I assume that it's common, but maybe not. Hopefully not. But yeah, I'm glad it does, we need to talk about the bad stuff sometimes.

And next up is one of my favorite songs and I also I would really recommend it because it doesn't have any romance. It is. I'm sorry, Boris. It is a political song. Uh, so this is obviously about yeah, it's about Boris Johnson, which also implicates the Tory Party in the UK. It basically talks about how the politics are so bad, and they're going to ruin all the favorite things, all the nice things the government does for the people. I have also tried this on guitar, I don't remember if I managed to learn it. Uh, but yes, I mentioned uh, this is um, the song that. Uh. Continues on one of the previous songs. I've forgotten which right now, but yeah, you can read the last paragraph I think this is so such a nice song to listen to, honestly. Uh, Wilbur says. This is just an artist I really like. I I love the way he sings, the way he makes the general musical picture. Uh, I think the instruments are always great and the melodies, it's some of my favorite music honestly.

I don't listen to this of us much anymore. But I do really like it, and I really did like it when I used to listen to it a lot more. I might start listening to it again, I'm not sure.

#ink.post #musicblogging

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j3tsabyss · 1 year

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I posted 1,685 times in 2022

327 posts created (19%)

1,358 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

suppermariobroth

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I tagged 1,465 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#nintendo - 380 posts

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Longest Tag: 101 characters

#and i’m worried about babylon 2022 because there’s tons of implications that his role is only minimal

My Top Posts in 2022:

Eddie Brock getting his camera broken then just randomly pulling out a new camera is peak comedy

61 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

Ok this has been in the back of my mind for like years and I guess I’m finally saying it

I’m so sick and tired of the way people outside of the HU fandom treat Hollywood Undead. They like to act like HU is this horrible 2000s band with “old” band members that haven’t done anything new in the past 10+ years when none of that is true. Like what is it about mentioning HU that makes people react with visceral hatred?

Like first off HU is still doing well, in fact they have a new album coming up possibly this year. They have been releasing music for 10+ years in the music industry and it’s actually amazing they’re still at it for 17 years. They have so much potential, yet they still have been underrated for so many years

But then despite the hatred, sometimes some people like to think that Swan Songs is their best album and disregard their other albums. Like Swan Songs is good but… it’s aged not very well and the HU guys have really changed since that album. And then because of Swan Songs being the most well known among their other albums that’s probably what makes people think they still are like that when, no HU isn’t like that. They aren’t the same twenty something “party all day” haughty guys from the late 2000s. They still have done some party songs and they’re kind of still… the way they are (using constant sarcasm) but they have really changed. They have been maturing so much that they even decided to not use their masks anymore

And speaking of their more recent stuff, the fact that now at least 2 HU guys have done solo albums now is fricking amazing. As someone whose been a fan since 2015, a solo album from one of them felt like a distant dream. But now it’s finally happened. They definitely haven’t stopped their creativity and they definitely have no plans to stop any time soon

Also while I do believe their lyrics are kind of repetitive in recent albums, I still think they have a spark in them. And they should continue on with that spark

Like if you don’t like HU then that’s completely fine everyone has different tastes. But HU definitely isn’t the “worst” band out there and they literally have potential to become bigger but they still haven’t. And people should stop acting like there’s no current HU fans because there’s still an active fanbase, just only on 3 platforms which includes this very site :)

TDLR; I wish people would stop acting like HU is a horrible band and that Swan Songs is their only album. I wish HU would have one of their more newer songs blow up so people can finally stop treating HU like they’re a joke and realize their potential

67 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

I keep forgetting that American Psycho is a real movie and not something that Spencer randomly invented

72 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

Venom 2 has ruined me I can just think of Eddie Brock saying “the planet Ming Mong” and I start laughing hysterically

100 notes - Posted May 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Baby boy baby

111 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #NOT THE AMERICAN PSYCHO ONE #long post

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iamvegorott · 2 years

Text

Blank is a Swiftie AU

“Oh my god, is it still going?” Phantom groaned as he walked home, covering his ears. “Be nice,” Mare admonished. “We’re not going to diminish his interests.” But even Mare was getting sick of the constant sound of Taylor Swift’s voice coming from the speakers in Blank’s room. “Why did he pick Swift?” Phantom groaned as he flopped dramatically onto the couch. “We’ve both been playing him rock since he formed. Where did he even hear this from?” “Anti,” was all Mare answered. “Figures,” Phantom grumbled. Mad walked in and sighed as he heard the opening verses to Lover playing. “We need to get him headphones.” “And give him an excuse to ruin his hearing? I don’t think so!” Mare snapped. Mad held his arms up but smirked. It was always funny to see Mare’s inner Papa bear come out. “Plus,” Mare grinned wolfishly and walked towards Mad. “I don’t hate this one.” Mad blushed as Mare wrapped one arm around his waist and took the other in his other hand. Mad instinctively wrapped his free arm around Mare’s shoulders. “Can I go,” Mare crooned. “Where you go. Can it always, be this close.” Mare suddenly spun Mad around. “Forever and ever and - “ “Papa and Maddy dancing!” a young voice squealed. Before anyone could react, Blank charged down the stairs and into Mare and Mad’s legs, making them stumble. Mare noticed with a sinking heart that Blank was carrying his phone. Blank hastily scrolled through the playlist, landing on one and setting the phone to full volume. “Dance with me!” Blank pouted as Shake It Off started. Mare smiled at Blank fondly as Blank began jumping around. “I mean if you insist.” Mare took Blank’s hands and gently twirled him around, grinning as Blank squealed in delight. Mad and Phantom smiled at the father-son duo, even though they wanted to stomp on the phone. Hard. “Don’t leave me out!” Phantom cried out suddenly, leaping in and scooping Blank into his arms, spinning around as Blank giggled in delight. Mad chuckled as he exchanged glances with Mare. “Blank did ask for everybody,” Mare said, holding a hand towards Mad. Mad smiled and took the hand. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint Blank.” Blank cheered as Mad joined. He and Phantom were screaming the lyrics to each other, holding hands and jumping in delight. Mad and Mare swayed, smiling at the boy they’d grown to cherish. All in all, Taylor Swift wasn’t the worst evil humanity had to offer. (That award would go to the new Harry Styles album that would come out in a few years)

----------

That was adorable!

Got me right in the feels <3

I also love the implication that Blank's gonna listen to Harry Styles over and over again as well XD

#submission #nyssaalghul124 #mamdare #blank is a swiftie #phan being a cute uncle as well <3 #just some good fluff here

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hqbaby · 2 years

Text

28. i want | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 (𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

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(written portion! you can find a summary at the bottom if you have difficulty or simply don't feel like reading large chunks of text<33 word count: 1.2k)

“That’s from when they first dyed their hair!”

You can’t help but chuckle at the picture. In it, teenage versions of Atsumu and Osamu are solemnly coloring each other’s hair with dying brushes. They’re standing in the bathroom that you recognize as the one down the hall and you can almost hear their squabbling through the image.

“Ma, yer embarrassing me!” Atsumu whines, but he doesn’t move to take the photo album away. You have a hunch that he likes seeing you on his family’s living room floor looking at old photos with his mother.

Mrs. Miya hushes her son as she flips the page and points at another picture. “This is from my wedding day.”

You lean in closer and smile. It sure looks like her—same smile that her louder son seems to have inherited, same eyes, same nose. She wears a simple but beautiful white wedding dress as she stands beside her husband in front of their first house, and they look happy.

“You look beautiful, Mrs. Miya.”

“Call me Ma,” she says to you gently, looking back at the photo. “It was a small wedding and it was the greatest day of my life—but, I’m sure yours will be so much better.”

You feel your face heat up as she turns to wink at her son who, you’re sure even without looking at him, is just as flustered as you are.

“Don’t say stuff like that, Ma!” Atsumu wails, making you and his mother laugh.

Mrs. Miy—Ma stands up and straightens her apron. “I should get dinner ready.”

As she walks towards the kitchen, you stand up too and offer to help, much to your boyfriend’s dismay.

“But I wanted cuddles!” he pouts at you.

You pinch his cheek. “Later,” you say. “Come on, let’s help your mother.”

He sighs but eventually gets up. Just as you’re about to start walking, he pulls you back and holds you for a moment. He moves his lips next to your ear and whispers, “I told ya she’d like ya.”

And, as his mother calls you to help cut the carrots (because you both know Atsumu could never do that without risking his fingers), you can’t help but think that he’s right.

Gingerly peeling his arm from on top of you, you slip from under Atsumu’s grasp and creep out of his room to get a glass of water. You try your best (and fail) to keep the door from creaking as you pull it open, but, luckily, your boyfriend is tuckered out and he doesn’t even stir.

As you walk towards the kitchen, you notice that the lights are on and, as you step closer, you find Osamu picking through the leftovers at the table as he scrolls through his phone.

Quietly sneaking up behind him, you land your hand on his shoulder and whisper a soft, “Boo!”

You watch him die inside.

“Y/N!” he whisper-shouts. “I thought ya were a burglar or something!”

Trying to stifle your laughter, you throw up a peace sign. “Oops.”

After Osamu’s finally calmed himself and you’ve stopped laughing, you tiptoe over to grab a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water. You take a seat beside him at the kitchen table and lean back.

“So…” you say, drumming your fingers on the table to an unstable rhythm.

“So?” he quirks a brow, amused by your awkwardness.

“I had an idea,” you tell him.

He rests his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together in a look of faux seriousness. “Please share your idea.”

“Right,” you say, drawing the word out on your tongue. “So, I’m thinking about leaving my family’s company.”

He hums. “Makes sense, makes sense,” he tells you. “No offense, but everyone there seems to be an asshole.”

You chuckle at his candor. “They are assholes.”

“Have ya told Atsumu about this idea?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I wanted to know what you think first,” you admit. “Because if I leave… there are a lot of implications.”

“Implications?”

“Yeah,” you say. “If I leave, I’m cut off from my family forever—which is fine, except that, for the first few months at least, everything I do could be up for public scrutiny. And that includes Atsumu.”

“Oh.”

You stare at your hands on the table. “He would let me do it in a heartbeat,” you say. “He would think it’s all fine—and it might be fine. Or it might not be.”

“So, ya want me to make yer decision for him?” Osamu asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “I wouldn’t ask anyone to do that. People have the right to make their own decisions about their own lives.”

The twin tilts his head to the side. “What do ya want me to do, then?”

You take a deep breath. “Tell me I’m being selfish,” you say. “Tell me that I shouldn’t put him through that. Tell me that things aren’t going to work out and nothing will be fine.”

You avoid Osamu’s gaze as he stays quiet.

He’s thinking, letting it sit in his mind for a moment. Unlike Atsumu, Osamu isn’t rash and he likes to weigh his options before he makes a move. It’s something both you and his brother admire him for.

Finally, he clears his throat.

“No,” he tells you.

You look up at him. “What?”

“Y/N, what do ya want?” he asks you. “How do ya see yer future after all this?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

You bite your bottom lip and, in the back of your mind, you can hear Atsumu dramatically shrieking at you to not make your lips bleed. And you smile.

“After all this… I want a quiet life,” you say, bits and pieces of the future you’ve never allowed yourself to imagine begin to flood through your words. “I want a nice little house without a cricket court in the back that no one ever uses. I want a bathroom at the end of the hall where people can dye their hair together and laugh at how bad it looks. I want a small wedding that I can look back on as the greatest day of my life.”

The two of you smile at each other.

“I want Atsumu,” you finally admit in a hushed voice. “I want to make him happy. He’s all I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Osamu leans back. “Then that’s all ya need to know,” he tells you. “Yer never gonna know what the future has in store. So, ya just gotta think of what ya want to happen and trust that fate will do its thing.”

You nod.

After you’ve both said your “goodnights,” you walk back into Atsumu’s room and tuck yourself under his arm. You press your forehead against his and hold him tight.

And, slowly, you drift off to sleep.

dream one hundred and twenty-six

It’s fuzzy.

You don’t know where you are, all you know is that you’re in front of him. You reach a hand to your cheek and you feel tears. Confused, you wipe the wetness from your eyes, then you see it.

He’s standing in front of you with the most pained expression on his face. He looks like a mess, his hair is all out of sorts, and his face is all puffy from crying. He’s crying.

No, he’s sobbing. He’s hiccuping on his tears and his fists are clenched at his sides. He looks like a child that’s just had the worst nightmare of their life. And it terrifies you.

He opens his mouth and no sound comes out. He chokes down a sob and, finally, looks you straight in the eye and—in the most tired and distressed voice—he asks you, “Why?”

you wake

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Y/N visits the Miya household. Everything goes well and she and Osamu have a chat about her future, deciding to let fate bring her the happiness that she wants. But, as she sleeps, her dreams tell her that fate has other plans.

𝐚/𝐧 : and so the rollercoaster continues 😬

ALSO just a heads up, but there won't be an update tomorrow because i will be opening the third act and announcing its name so watch out for that :> as always, this has been a blast<33

☏ 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦!

#hqbaby.td #hqbaby #haikyuu #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu smau #atsumu smau #haikyuu smau

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swtki · 3 years

Text

Dancing Days - Edward Cullen x Reader Smut

Anonymous said: 19&24 on edward smut? love ur writing!

A/N: Thank you so much :) also I’m so happy everyone is h*rny for Eddy. I decided I want to explore more period times with Edward, changing his persona in a certain decade, but still ultimately being in the same universe as cannon. This will play into the readers character a tad bit.

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, SWEARING, S*X, VAMPIRES, ORAL SEX (MALE RECIEVING), VIRGIN! EDWARD, NON VIRGIN READER, GENDER NEUTURAL READER, MENTIONS OF WAR AND DEATH.

19: ��Fuck me like you want people to know”.

24. “Thing is, I’m a virgin”.

_______________________________________

I brushed my hair into its usual part, making sure I looked flawless. The year was 1976, I was a senior in Highschool. It was a wonderful time to be a teenager, no longer afraid that my friends would die in Vietnam. Even in my dinky little Washington town, the culture was becoming our own.

The Led Zeppelin record playing on my record player stopped suddenly, alerting me that I was no longer alone in my room. I turned, my expression soft as I saw my boyfriend, Edward.

“Whats up with you and this album? Everytime I come in, its always House of Th Holy on repeat.” I rolled my eyes, lifted the record in question off of the tray, and put it back snuggly in its case.

“I can’t help it, Ed. Robert just speaks to me. I’m sure you’re like that with Louis Armstrong.” I waved my hand, walking back to my mirror to finish getting ready.

“Maybe, but the music you listen to it’s...” Edward paused for a moment, sitting on my bed. “It’s suggestive, Y/N.” I turned to him, my eyebrow raised.

“Suggestive? What’s that supposed to mean?” I placed my hands on my hips, and waited for him to explain.

“Well, for one that one song says ‘Sipping booze’, I quite think that is blatant alcohol reference.” I looked at him, dumbfounded. Then, I started to laugh, and I walked over to him. Instinctually, he pushed his head into my chest, enjoying the comfort it brought him.

“I love you, but god are we from two different Mars.” He chuckled, sending a rumble through my chest.

At school, I was an average kid. Fair grades, many friends, many ex friends. When Edward was paired up with me in math, I got through his cold, stone skin. At first, he was annoyed when I would fuck off, leaving him to do the work himself. Understandable, and once I realized how rude I was, I stopped. I talked to him, prodded him truthfully. I would ask him once we started dating if he had noticed me previously, because I had never noticed him.

“Yes, I noticed that you were the only one who didn’t acknowledge me. Ironic I guess.”

A year into our relationship, I would never let him go unnoticed. We walked the halls, hand in hand. Our outlooks were so different when it came to life. He was modest, I was free spirited. Edward was different from my boyfriends previously, I didn’t want to fuck things up, and I refused to even risk it.

School went slowly that day, possibly because my head was focused on what I would ask Edward, my boyfriend of one year, about sex. About us and sex.

I hadn’t told him that I wasn’t a virgin, I was worried he would only want a virgin girl, after all they can never look at you disappointed and say “I’ve had better.” A definite plus. Many a nights I tried to imagine him, moaning completely under my control. I wanted him, but I didn’t know if he wanted me. Surely in 50 years he had found a good fuck. I worried that he would be into someone else, forever tied to a vampiress.

The end of the school day couldn’t have come sooner, my anxiety rising as I got into Edwards car, starting a long silent car ride. I tried to keep my mind off of it, an attempt to avoid the conversation until we were at my house. I kept my mind busy with the lush scenery outside of the passenger side window.

“So... I know you want to ask me, and I know the answers to what I would ask you.” He said blatantly, putting the car in park outside my front lawn.

“I don’t wanna talk out here Ed, lets go inside.” I swung my bag onto my shoulder. Thats the thing with Edward, I never have to say anything, just as long as I think it.

My house was empty, making it easy for Edward to follow me upstairs to my room. I shut my door behind us, then turned to him. Unsure of what to say, I breathed in deeply.

“How long have you known that I wasn’t...you know?” He smiled, sitting on my plush navy sheets.

“Y/N, I knew before I met you what I was getting into. Your ex had a lot of thoughts about that one night where you guys-”

“Oh my god okay ew.” A blush rose upon my face, and I saw Edward laugh as he watched my body fill with embarassment. “Well why didn’t you say something?” I asked.

“I figured if it needed to be brought up, it would be. You and I aren’t exactly a physical couple so I didn’t worry too much.” I walked over to my bed, taking a seat next to him.

“I see...I mean it wouldn’t be a big deal for me so if you want to...” I bit my lip at him, his gaze turned to the other direction.

“Thing is, I’m a virgin.” My expression went from a seductive look, to a puzzled one. I wondered if I had heard him correctly. “I’m old school, Y/N. It wasn’t like how it is now when I was human. People didn’t just have sex in highschool, unless they were married because the man was off to war. So, it hasn’t been on the menu for me. You’re the first girl I’ve dated in fifty years, you know. And no, there was no vampiress or anything.” I smiled.

“Well, I don’t wanna scare you or push it or anything. It’s just you know-”

“You want to touch me, to be touched by me.” his eyes trailed back to mine, looking deep into my soul.

“Yes, I want you, Edward.” I pressed my lips to his, pulling away jut as it got intense. I could feel his disappointment. “I want to...but I can’t let you down. Tomorrow night. I’ll call you and we can talk about everything we want out of it, I’ll give you a fucking fairytale, my love” I chuckled.

I called him that night as I had said I would. We talked about my first time, and everything I liked, followed by what he had seen on video, what he wanted to try, and his fears.

“I don’t want to kill you, darling.” He said.

“Then don’t. I won’t let you.” He laughed at me, enjoying my lack of seriousness.

The next night rolled along with a quick pace. I looked at the clock and saw that it was time for me to start getting ready.

I made myself look simple, a small bit of makeup and hair product, but otherwise just a tank top and jeans. Sometimes, dating an old fashioned guy was a pain in the ass. Always complaining about suggestive behavior. But other times, my shoulders counted as being half nude.

“You look stunning, as per usual.” Edward said, stepping into my room. He was tense and barely moved. “I don’t know what to do..what usually happens with it if I’m not the one doing everything.”

If he had any blood flow, he would have been blushing right about then.

“We don’t have to do anything you know. We can just lay down and watch a movie if you want to, I just want to make you happy, Edward.” I walked over to him and put a strand of his messy auburn hair behind his ear. Without hesitation, he pressed his forehead to mine.

“I want to, thats the part that’s been eating me away ever since I met you. I want to make you feel good, I just don’t know if I’ll lose it and-“ I cut him off with a kiss.

“Even if you break my pelvis into pieces, I’ll still be happy. I’m always happy when I’m with you.” we both smiled, and suddenly the thick tension that once filled the room vanished. “I’ll take care of you tonight, just as long as you’re doing it for you. I just need to know you’re doing this for you, and you need to be sure you wont roll over afterwards and hate me.” I said, my hand clasped in his marble one.

“I want you, Y/N. I have no doubts that I’ll want you afterwards, too.”

I pushed his head down, level to my own. Our kiss was deep, filled with a years worth of hunger. My hands tugged on his hair, making him whimper. Suddenly, I felt my feet lift off the ground as Edward carried me to my bed. With a soft thump, the plush sheets surrounded my body. It was a contrast of warmth on my back, and Edwards cool body on my top.

His hands were balled into fists, clutching my duvet as if his life depended on it. I pulled away, panting for air.

“Sorry, I forget you need air.” He smirked. I rolled my eyes in response.

“Well, its a shame you don’t. Because I intend on taking your breath away.” we both made small laughs at my remark.

“What now?” He looked at me for guidance.

“Get on your back.” I said.

We switched positions, he was now on the bottom. My legs straddled his torso, I sight he visably enjoyed. I slithered my hands up to his head, cupping his face as I kissed him again. My left hand left its post, reaching down to the buttons on his shirt.

I paused, looking up at him once I got to the last button.

“Does it...work like normal or...” He threw his head back and laughed.

“It doesn’t have spikes, I can assure you its just like a humans. But Emmet did tell me to pull out so...I’m kind of worried about the implications of that but-“ I leaned down to shut him up with a kiss.

His hands were still at his side, resting on the bed. I picked up his wrists, and placed them on the side of my thighs. He squeezed them lightly.

My hands roamed over his bare chest, cool to the touch. I lached my lips onto his neck, causing his back to arch below me. I could feel his excitement beneath me, it gave me a big self esteem boost. His hand reached along my waist, tugging at my shirt. His eyes lit up at the sight of my bare chest. He reached for me but I pulled away to slide down onto my knees.

He looked confused, like I had left him high and dry.

“Sit on the edge.” I said softly, my knees burning slightly due to the rough carpet underneath them.

He rid himself of the unbottoned shirt, slidding over to me once finished. My hands slowly stroked his thighs, he was desperate for some type of touch.

I smiled, tugging on his belt until it came undone. He stayed silent, looking at me like I was the only thing in the world. I unbottoned the trousers, tugging on them. He kicked them off and was left in his breifs.

“Is it okay if I..” I looked up at him and he nodded frantically. I palmed him over his underwear, feeling how hard he had gotten from kissing. My fingers latched onto the waist band, pulling them down to reveal a pale yet pink cock. It wasn’t too big, but deffinitley satisfactory. I ran my finger over the tip, earning a small groan from the vampire. My eyes trailed up to him, so I could see him when I took him in my mouth.

He let out a breathy moan, eyes focused on my mouth. His lips were parted ever so slightly. I bobbed my head, and grotesquely sexual sounds arose from my throat. I felt Edward move a strant of hair out of my face, he looked at me like I was a god.

“Fuck..Y/N if you keep doing that there wont be anything for you, dear” He said in a breathy moan. I pulled back, my mouth feeling sore and tired. “Do you still want to?” He asked, grasping his hands on my waist.

“Yes, I fucking need you.” I threw off my jeans, I would worry about finding them later, I needed him. He layed back down, propping his head up on my pillows. Our lips collided in another kiss as I leveled myself with him.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, stroking his hard member.

“I’m sure.” He pecked my lips again as I got ontop of his lean figure. I spat in my hand, lubing up my needy hole.

“How do you want me to do this? I mean like slow? What do-“ He said with genuine worry.

“Fuck me like you want people to know” I whispered, “ Fuck me like you want the entire neighborhood to know that I’m yours and yours only.”

“I can make that happen, love.” He flipped me over, now being back to where we first started. He lined up his cock with my hole, running it around the tight area. I put my fingers in his hair, making a slight tug as he pushed into my body.

Pleasure filled my body as he filled me up, his cock stretched my insides in the right ways. Without pausing, he started to push his hips into mine, making sure not to hurt me.

He reached down to suck on my neck, adding to the pornagraphic moans in the room. My hands travled to his back, scratching my nails down the cold stone like skin. His moans echoed in my ear.

“Y/N, I can’t be on top I’m going to crush you” I laughed at him, tapping his side so he fell onto the bed. I swung my legs over him, sitting on his perfect cock.

“Perfect, fucking amazing.” He said as I steady myself onto him. His face was in a euphoric expression, the most relaxed I had ever seen him.

I began to rock my hips, sliding him in and out of me. His hands grabbed onto my hips, guiding me. Everything was a euphoric experience. My gut filled with that wonderful sensation.

“Edward I’m gonna cum, oh my god” I moaned out, picking up my pace.

Suddenly, the world went still. My eyes went black and I saw stars as my orgasm washed over me. My moans echoed in the room as my body twitched. A few thrusts up into my body and Edward pulled out of me, rubbing his cum out onto his hand.

I layed there panting while he sped to the bathroom, and came back with a clean cloth, wiping down my body. He put the cloth down, pulling up his underwear and handing me mine. I slipped the fabric on, slipping under the covers.

“Get in here, I wanna kiss you”

He laughed, obeying and slipping beside me. Our lips reunited in a soft clash.

“I love you so much, dear.”

#edward cullen #edward cullen x reader smut #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen smut #robert pattinson smut #robert pattinson #twilight shitpost #twilight headcanon #headcannons twilight #twilight fanfic #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfic #carslile cullen #esme cullen

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seriouslysnape · 3 years

Text

Picture Perfect

Draco Malfoy x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Sexual implications (a lottttt of them)

A/N: I might do a part two to this...

Word Count: 1,635

“Like them? I love them.”

You watched with anticipation as Draco popped another one of the Bertie Botts Flavour Beans into his mouth. His sculpted jaw moved up and down as he chewed. His eyes suddenly shut tightly and his face contorted into disgust. You leaned forward a tad, curious to see what mystery flavor he had picked. He swallowed hard and coughed at the foul taste.

“Soap.” He sputtered, reaching for the glass of water on his bedside table.

You bursted into laughter, laughing even harder at the way he brought a hand to his chest as the taste dissipated from his tongue. He grinned at you from over the rim of his glass, taking another sip.

“Your turn.” He said.

This was a game of sorts that you and Draco liked to play whenever the two of you made a trip to Hogsmeade. Honeydukes Sweets Shop was your absolute favorite place to go and make pleasurable purchases. There were endless rows of candies and other tooth rotting snacks that were your ultimate guilty pleasure.

You were always sure to snag a new box of Bertie Botts Flavour Beans. You and Draco would sit in his private, prefect room and take turns selecting a bean and seeing which flavor you were bestowed with. You were snug in one of his Quidditch jumpers, your legs wrapped around his waist while the two of you sat on his bed.

Draco was always less fortunate than you during this game.

You took a bean into your hand, taking a breath when you put it in your mouth. Your tense shoulders relaxed when you started chewing. A delicious, fruity taste flooded your tastebuds, a cheeky grin appearing on your face. Draco threw his head back in exasperation at the sight of you getting yet another good flavor.

“Again?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Cherry.” You smiled, swallowing the small candy.

Draco’s blonde eyebrows raised, a devious look crossing over his face. His hands rested on your thighs that were secured around him, leaning forward.

“Mmm. Do you mind sharing?” He smirked.

You hummed affirmatively, capturing his lips in a hot kiss. His tongue danced with yours, tasting your familiarity and the traces of cherry candy. His hands went to the side of your neck to bring you closer, while you gripped at the collar of his sweater. His kisses muffled your girly giggles, a chuckle vibrating out from his own chest.

You tapped his shoulder to pause your make out session, a mumble of realization sounding out from your throat. He whined when you stopped kissing him, but based on the bright look on your face, you had something in mind.

“I have something for you.” You announced in a playful way.

His gray eyes darkened a touch, his fingertips drumming on the skin of your leg.

“Is that so?” He questioned, making guesses already in his head.

You were giddy with joy as you scrambled from his array of blankets and his comforter. You reached into your backpack, pulling out a solid black book with a red bow on it. It was a rather large book, about the size of his Care of Magical Creatures textbook. Draco felt a quick surge of panic. He was the worst about remembering holidays and birthdays, and he instantly thought that maybe he had forgotten something special.

“Don’t get mad if I have, but...did I miss something?” He asked.

You let out a snicker as you rejoined him on the bed. Ever since he had forgotten your birthday a few months ago, now he was always afraid he was going to miss something else.

“You haven’t. This is just something I’ve been working on.” You bubbled up gleefully.

You set the book on his lap, watching as his eyes raked over the cover. He felt a warmth in his chest at being given a gift just because you cared. He pushed the bow off of the sides of the book, opening the cover to see a little note you had written for him, signed at the end with your name and everything. The thick pages indicated to him that it was a picture album.

He turned to the first page, an unmistakable smile of jubilation appeared on his face. The first two pages each had four Polaroid like pictures secured evenly. You were smiling happily in each of the first several photos, wearing different outfits and in different locations. Draco’s heart was beating with exuberance in his chest as he looked through the first couple of pages.

“Oh, darling. These are great,” He praised; “They’re positively stunning. They-”

His sentence was cut short when he got about halfway through the pages, his voice getting caught in his throat when the pictures immediately took on a new theme. His smile faded into a shocked, slight jaw drop. The second half of the book was filled with sultry, boudoir style photos. His fingertips trailed over one in particular where you were wearing your school robes, but the only thing you were wearing underneath was one of Draco’s Slytherin uniform ties settled between your breasts.

In other photos, you were wearing different sets of lingerie. There was one lacy, black colored set that almost made him faint right then and there.

He was knocked speechless, unable to string together a single sentence. You were beginning to feel a little self conscious, and even a bit embarrassed that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. You had honestly expected him to completely attack you with feverish kisses or fuck you right then and there. The fact that he was completely silent was unsettling.

You fiddled with your hands in your lap, uncertainty in your tone as you spoke up to break the silence.

“I...do you like them?” You wondered, hoping to get a positive reaction.

Draco’s eyes never left the book. He turned to the next page, a rush of arousal flushing over him at one in particular where you were completely naked, stretched out on his bed and giving a look so seductive that it made Draco’s belly flutter. The sight of you naked on his bed...it was hot.

“Oh, baby. Darling, my love...” He breathed out, trying to complete at least one full thought; “Like them? I love them.” He almost growled.

You exhaled a breath of relief, feeling a sense of excitement as he continued to rake over them. He turned to a new set of pictures, a hot blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“You’re so stunning...so sexy.” He purred.

You laughed shyly, a bashful smile washing on your face. You rubbed his knee, your hand feeling like electricity on him. He couldn’t look away from the scandalous photos, each one becoming more dirty than the last. He was riled up and he was already looking forward to having this book at his disposal.

“Who took these?” He pondered, wondering which one of your lucky girl friends had the pleasure of seeing you actually model these outfits and strip down naked.

You just had to take advantage of this moment. You couldn’t help but mess with him just a little bit. You choked down the chuckle that would surely give you away.

“Potter.” You lied.

Draco’s head snapped up so fast and his eyes filled with an indescribable look of hot jealousy. He chest tightened, but relaxed when he realized you were kidding based off of your burst of laughter. He sighed harshly and rubbed his forehead as you laughed at his intense reaction. The thought of you asking Harry Potter to take these photos for you filled him with such a rage, but he even laughed it off when he knew you were joking.

“That’s not funny.” He said pointing a finger at you, and continuing to go through the photos.

Your giggles died off, and you answered him honestly.

“Pansy took them. That’s how I was able to sneak in here when you weren’t here.” You explained.

Draco nodded, his jaw still slightly ajar as he loomed over them. You patiently waited as he finished looking through them, his pupils dilating more and more by the minute. He closed the book once he was finished, his eyes finally flickering up to you. He had grown a very prevalent erection, and his eyes were filled with an intense amount of lust. You knew one thing for sure.

He was going to rock your world tonight.

Over the last year or so of dating you, he tried not to be so aggressive when it came to your sex life. He tried not to pounce on you every time he felt turned on. He knew that sex was supposed to be the ultimate romantic connection, and not always supposed to be rushed. After those pictures though, he wanted you BAD. You could tell he was antsy, waiting (and also praying) for you to give him the okay.

You leaned in, your lips just barely brushing over his, before you brought your lips to his ear. You purposely let out a wanton moan in his ear, a tantalizing sound to your voice.

“Touch me, Draco. I know you want me.”

In a millisecond, Draco was on you. He kissed you roughly and pushed you down onto his mattress. He kept your hands pinned above your head, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck as he intentionally drew the most wonderful sounds out of you.

“What are the chances of you wearing one of those hot little outfits under this jumper?” He said in a steamy voice.

You squirmed against his hands, but to no avail. You rolled your hips into his, trying to create some friction. You threw him a wink, your response sending him into full fuck mode.

“Why don’t you find out?”

#draco #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy smut #harry potter draco #harry potter #seriouslysnape

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sometimesbeforeitgetsbetter · 3 years

Text

Off the Record | Stiles Stilinski

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader

Summary: High school in Beacon Hills, as told through the eyes of one inquisitive journalist who has a knack at getting on Stiles Stilinski's nerves.

Warnings: idk there's like a couple curse words lmao. also, spoilers? if you haven't finished teen wolf I guess??

Word count: 8,227

A/N: hi hi this is my first fic I'm posting on Tumblr (not to say that this is my first fic ever...anyway)! before you start, I just wanna say that there's a couple things that might be off from the show but please just ignore them. like I think it's bs Lydia brings Stiles back and not Scott in 6b so I righted that wrong. but I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think of it! thanks for reading!!

All my life I’ve wondered why people didn’t question what happens in Beacon Hills.

It’s no secret that our town is unusual, but when odd things seemed to happen, people would just turn a blind eye and go about their business.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t let it go. I was inquisitive by nature, and my mom never knew how to answer my questions.

Why do we have so many animal attacks?

What happened to the people that disappeared in the Preserve?

Why did his eyes glow like that?

That last question almost caused my mom to get me a therapist – which probably would’ve helped me regardless – but she just continued to answer with her usual responses.

They just feel threatened by us, dear.

They’re in a better place now.

I’m sure it was nothing – you probably just saw some reflection in his eyes.

But no matter what she told me, I wasn’t satisfied. I knew there was something bigger going on, something my mom couldn’t explain, but I wasn’t sure what. As I got older, however, I realized that if I kept voicing my concerns, I’d be seen as the local crazy person – which, at the time, was the title reserved for my neighbor, Donna Romano, who always went to Town Hall meetings to complain about how some supernatural creatures were traumatizing her dogs every time she took them out at night to urinate.

Out of fear of sounding like Donna, I kept my suspicions to myself. I observed the strange actions of those around me and kept note of the bizarre events that happened in town. I found that it was something I was good at – observing. Always watching, but never voicing my opinions. Eventually, it got the best of me because I grew really quiet at school. But I didn’t mind. I liked being a wallflower.

One day in the fifth grade I saw my mom reading the Beacon Chronicle and I had an epiphany – journalists investigate weird, inexplicable events, so I should be a journalist. Reading the news became my favorite pastime, and by sixth grade I decided I would join the high school newspaper, The Daily Beacon, when I became a freshman. I figured maybe it would give me an outlet to investigate the odd occurrences in the town without looking like a lunatic.

But in sixth grade, I noticed that some of the odd things had stopped happening. There were less animal attacks and disappearances from the Preserve. Some people had even left town, including the last of the Hales, whose house had burned down that same year.

I didn’t give up hope though. I kept my head down and waited for things to get weird again. In the meantime, I wrote for enjoyment. In eighth grade I started shadowing a girl named Anna that was a part of the Daily Beacon, and I started writing articles – album reviews, movie reviews, school news.

Everything was going smoothly until my sophomore year of high school. Suddenly the weird things were happening, and I was sure that there was one person that was at the epicenter of it all – Scott McCall.

“...Angela, you’re covering the new faculty; Thomas, you’ve got the new Vegan Support Group club some juniors just created; and y/n, you’re covering lacrosse try-outs,” said Andrew, the editor-in-chief of the Daily Beacon.

I groaned slightly. “Andrew, couldn’t I write something a little bit more...my style? Like what about the one freshman class that boycotted their summer reading and is facing suspension?”

He gave me a slight look. “y/n, you know how important this lacrosse piece is. You know what that sport means to the school. You should be glad I’m giving you this opportunity,” he scolded. “Besides, Marlene is covering that class and is already interviewing their teacher.”

I nodded slowly and tried to refrain from rolling my eyes. I knew that Andrew meant well – he had been like an older brother to me ever since my freshman year – and he was right about the importance of lacrosse. I stayed quiet until he dismissed us, then mentally prepared myself to spend my afternoon watching some jocks exude machismo on a field.

When my last class was over, I walked over to the lacrosse field and found myself a spot on the top of the bleachers. It gave me an excellent vantage point – until a couple girls sat down right in front of me. The redhead I recognized to be Lydia Martin, the school’s resident popular girl. We’d been in class together all our lives, but I couldn’t remember a time she ever talked to me. I’m sure she didn’t even know I existed, just like the majority of the other people in our grade. The other girl, however, I didn’t recognize. I found out her name was Allison by overhearing their conversation. She was new and must have just moved to Beacon Hills.

The shrill sound of Coach’s whistle knocked me out of my thoughts. Tryouts started, and I watched as Scott McCall, a boy from my grade, was nearly knocked out by a lacrosse ball to the face. I winced but wrote down the event in the notebook I had out for documentation.

The next ball that went Scott’s way didn’t hit his face though. He managed to catch it in his goalie net. I couldn’t help but be a bit surprised – like Lydia, I’d known of Scott my whole life though he probably didn’t know me at all. But that meant I knew he was an asthmatic that wasn’t particularly skilled at sports.

“He’s actually pretty good,” I mumbled to myself as Scott continued to catch every ball that came his way.

I didn’t realize how loud I must’ve said it though because at my remark Allison turned around. “I was just thinking the same thing,” she said, obviously surprised. “Do you know him?”

I shook my head and quickly turned my attention to my notebook to write down the surprising turn of events. “Are you writing about this for the school newspaper?” I looked back up at Allison’s question. She was paying attention to me?

“Um, yeah, I am. I’d rather not write about sports, but here I am,” I joked lightly.

She let out a beautiful laugh at my statement. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I’m Allison, and you are…?”

“y/n,” I answered. “Nice to meet you, Allison.” Suddenly the crowd roared, and I remembered why I was there. Allison, too, smiled and turned her attention back to the game. Lydia hadn’t said a word, but she was focused on watching Scott absolutely demolish Jackson Highmore, who, in my opinion, needed to be knocked down a few pegs anyway.

The more I watched Scott though, I got this weird feeling. He was good – too good. I tried to ignore my feelings and just focus on writing notes for the ridiculous lacrosse piece, which would include the headline: “Sophomore Scott McCall shines at lacrosse tryouts and becomes team co-captain.” But deep down I knew there was something up with him.

A few days later, I was sitting behind Stiles Stilinski, Scott’s best friend, in English class. Even though I’d had nearly all of my classes with him, we never talked. It originally was because I had a minor crush on him and was afraid I’d pass out if I spoke to him, but eventually it just morphed into me not speaking to many people and being convinced he didn’t know of my existence anyway.

But this one day, I was committed to speaking with him. I had to know what was going on, and if there was one person that knew anything about Scott’s new-found lacrosse talent, it was Stiles.

“Hey, Stiles,” I spoke up from behind him.

The brunette turned around, slightly confused but with that soft smile on his face. “Oh, hey, y/n. What’s up?”

I swear my heart stopped beating for a second. He knew my name? He knew who I was? I shook myself out of my thoughts before I went down the rabbit hole of the implications of him knowing me.

“Oh, nothing much. I’m just writing a piece about lacrosse tryouts for the school newspaper and I was just wondering if you had anything to say about it,” I explained.

He tilted his head slightly and shifted in his seat to more fully face me. “Um, yeah sure. I think it’s going to be a great season, especially since we’ve gotten some new leadership. My boy Scott’s co-captain now, so those Devenford Prep guys won’t know what hit them!”

“Speaking of Scott, when did he get so good at lacrosse? Would you say it’s natural talent?” I pressed a bit, hoping he’d say something that would give me a hint as to what was going on.

Stiles’ eyes squinted a little, and his head tilted slightly again. He seemed to be at a loss for words, which was unusual for the fast-talking, sarcastic boy, but he quickly recovered. “It’s definitely...natural...talent. He’s been working extra hard recently to hone his talent and skills so he could bring his A-game to this year’s tryouts.” When he finished speaking, he looked pleased with himself, and I could tell he had let out a small sigh of relief.

What are you hiding?

Though I didn’t know it yet, at that moment my rivalry with Stiles Stilinski began. He and Scott were hiding something, and I was going to find out what it was.

“You’re telling me that a girl is in a coma after the school winter formal and you don’t want me to write a story about it?”

Andrew leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “It’s not that I don’t want you to write it. I just think it’s a tense time right now. The administration is receiving a lot of flack right now because of the winter formal fiasco, and Ms. Blanchard told me that we may want to avoid stirring the pot right now,” he explained. “That is not to say that we abandon our journalistic integrity and commitment to informing the student body, but we just may want to be sensitive to our environment right now.”

I trusted Ms. Blanchard, the faculty sponsor of the Daily Beacon, but not reporting on Lydia’s comatose state felt wrong. She was well-known at school, and students deserved to know the facts of her situation and how it had happened.Well, maybe I was lying to myself by saying that the real reason I wanted to pursue the story wasn’t the fact that something inexplicable had happened at the dance and I had to figure out what it was.

Andrew could sense my disappointment. “Look, maybe for now you can start collecting information and sources, and I’ll talk to Ms. Blanchard. Maybe she can advise us on how best to proceed.”

I threw my arms around Andrew in a quick hug. “Yes, thank you! I promise I’ll be sensitive when asking sources. I know how difficult this must be for the people close to her.”

“I know you will,” he said, chuckling lightly.

With a smile plastered on my face – perhaps a little inappropriately considering the topic I was excited to cover – I left the small newspaper office in search of my first source: Stiles Stilinski. He had been Lydia’s date to the dance, so surely he must know what happened to her, right? “No, I don’t know what happened,” Stiles angrily responded when I cornered him at his locker. “We were separated for a bit because she went looking for someone. When I went looking for her I–” he stopped suddenly, as if choosing his words carefully. He wouldn’t meet my eyes as he spoke.

“The next thing I know, she was at the hospital in a coma. They told me Jackson had found her out on the field when I went to check on her at the hospital,” he explained.

Something wasn’t adding up. “Ok, but where were you the rest of that time? You didn’t go looking for her when you didn’t see her for a while? What about when she had already been checked into the hospital?”

“What is this – an investigation?” Stiles shouted as he slammed his locker shut. I took a step back, eyes wide at the sudden display of aggression. Maybe I pushed too hard, I thought. Stiles rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “Sorry, I….I didn’t mean it like that. There’s just a lot going on, and my dad has been up my ass about those details too. To be honest, I can’t tell you where I was. The time just flew by and all of a sudden I’d realized I hadn’t seen Lydia for a couple hours. I wish I had been there for her, but there’s nothing I can do for her now other than check up on her.”

Running a hand over his buzzed head, he shot me a forced smile and said “good luck with your article” before walking away.

I was at a loss for words, trying to put the pieces together in my head. Surely he couldn’t have had a part in Lydia’s injury? There’s no way. But his defensiveness was off-putting–

“Hey, y/n!” I was snapped out of my thoughts by Allison approaching me from behind. “What were you talking to Stiles about?”

“Huh? Oh, um, I was just asking him about…” I remembered that the funeral for Allison’s aunt was happening and didn’t want to mention the additional stress of her best friend being comatose, so I opted for a white lie. “Biology homework. I wasn’t really paying attention in class today.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you two were friends,” she said as she leant against the lockers.

I shook my head violently. “We’re not.” I’d grown too close to Allison for her to not pick up on my feelings though.

“You say that now, but–”

“I have to get to class. See you at lunch, Ally!”

Other things that year were weird, but none warranted any further investigation via newspaper article. Sure, I was wondering about Erica Reyes’ sudden transformation into the ultimate baddie, the mysterious deaths of a mechanic and Isaac Lahey’s dad, numerous paralyzations at the Jungle, and a death of someone at a secret rave, but Andrew thought it would be best for the Chronicle and Ledger to cover those bigger events. In fact, the only other unnatural event that happened that I had to cover for the newspaper was Stiles’ unbelievable winning streak at the lacrosse championship. I would have quoted him after the game, but I really didn’t want to speak to him and anyway, he had disappeared for a bit right after the team won.

I could tell that things were happening, but it was all hidden from public view. I even noticed Allison’s behavior fluctuating. The arrival of her grandfather shook things up, and while he gave me a bad feeling, I couldn’t exactly figure out why. Lydia was more troubled than usual after coming back from the hospital even though she tried to act normally. Jackson was going through something and was more angry and aggressive than usual, but I wasn’t close enough to him to ask him if he was okay.

Over the summer, I spent a surprising amount of time with Lydia. Allison spent her summer in France, but she asked me to keep an eye on Lydia to make sure she was okay, especially since Jackson had moved to London during the summer break. I was surprised how much I enjoyed spending time with the redhead, and we hung out when I wasn’t working at my internship at The Beacon Chronicle, which my mom had convinced me to apply for after she noticed how irritated I was that I couldn’t pursue some of the stories I wanted.

By the time Allison came back before the start of school, it felt like Lydia and I had been best friends for the longest time.

“So, Allison, have you talked to Scott at all this summer?” I asked when I was sitting in the backseat of Lydia’s car, Allison in the passenger seat.

She shook her head. “No, I think I still need some time. He...hides things from me and I don’t know if I can trust him.”

I nodded my head, understanding the feeling. I still couldn’t place my finger on what had happened between them or what Scott was involved in. Though I comforted her when I found out they broke up, I didn’t really know why they’d done it.

“What about you, y/n? Have you talked to Stiles at all?” Allison asked, looking back at me in the backseat.

“Why the hell would I talk to Stiles?” I questioned, confused.

She and Lydia shared a small look that I couldn’t decipher before she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, but you guys are more similar than you may think. I don’t know why you guys act like you don’t like each other though.”

The car rolled to a stop at the stop light, and all of a sudden I noticed a familiar baby blue jeep approach next to us. “Speak of the devil,” I mumbled. Lydia and Allison didn’t notice Stiles staring and waving at first, but when they did the car was filled with awkward tension.

The next events were a blur: Lydia running the red light, both cars stopping in the middle of the road, and a deer running straight towards us, nearing killing me in the gap between the front seats. We were shaken, and the boys ran towards us when they saw what happened.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked Lydia, but he kept looking at me. I nodded slightly and he turned his full attention back to Lydia.

“What was wrong with it?” Allison asked as Scott got closer to the deer.

“It was scared,” he explained. “No, terrified.”

Things got progressively weirder after that. On the first day of school, I interviewed our new English teacher, Ms. Blake. She was nice enough, but it was unfortunate that her class was the one that a whole flock of birds decided to burst through the classroom windows. By the time the police arrived, I was already drafting up a story in my brain: Why are the animals acting weird in Beacon Hills?

I had overheard Stiles talking to Scott about the deer’s weird behavior and the number of deer-related incidents in California, so I swallowed my pride so that I could talk to him and maybe get some stats and information on the whole situation.

I walked up to him when he was sitting alone, texting on his phone. “Hey, Stiles.” “y/n? What’s wrong?” He had genuine concern written on his face.

“I overheard you and Scott talking about deer-related incidents earlier,” I noticed how he tensed up at my statement, “and I was wondering if you could help me with a piece I’m writing? It seems like you know all the stats, so maybe...you could write it with me?” It pained me to finish that sentence, but I figured it might be easier to figure out what was going on if he was helping – especially if he already had inside information.

I think for the first time in his life, the talkative boy was speechless. “I understand if you don’t want to or you’re busy–” I said quickly, trying to give him a way out.

“Yeah, sure.”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t caught off guard by his response. “W-what?”

He smirked slightly. “Yeah, sure. I’ll help you out with your article, y/n. Collaborate with you, if you will. We can work on it at my house tomorrow afternoon if you want.”

Nodding and agreeing with the plan, I left the chaotic English classroom.

The next afternoon, I felt like I was walking into the lion’s den. Going to Stiles’ house felt foreign, but what was even stranger was seeing him in casual clothes in a comfortable environment.

He answered the door wearing some sweats and a t-shirt, looking more comfortable and confident than I’d ever seen him. “Hey, y/n. Come on in,” he greeted.

I thanked him awkwardly, and we walked to his dining room table to get set up. “Sorry, I need to go grab my notes from my room. Be back in a sec,” Stiles said before leaving me alone in his dining room.

After a moment of silence, Sheriff Stilinski walked in wearing his uniform. “Oh, y/n! What are you doing here?” He had seen me a couple weeks ago in the police station when I was requesting documents for a story for the Chronicle. Though journalists and cops don’t often have a jovial relationship, he said that he liked me because of my commitment to the truth and respectful nature.

“Hey, Sheriff. I’m writing a piece about the animals acting weird, you know, with the deer accident and bird incident, and Stiles said he’d help me since he has a bunch of statistics on deer related car accidents.”

“Stiles is helping you? Well, I’ll be damned.” When he saw the confusion on my face, he rushed to explain himself. “No, not like that. It’s just, you’re all organized and focused, and Stiles is….Stiles.”

I was laughing heartily when the boy himself walked back into the room. “What’s going on, Daddy-o?”

“Nothing, son. Just catching up with y/n here. I’ve got to get to work, but you’re welcome anytime, y/n.” He said before patting Stiles on the shoulder and heading off to work.

Stiles looked over at me oddly when he placed his notes on the table and sat next to me. “Since when are you all buddy-buddy with my dad?”

Shrugging, I said, “Ever since we started grabbing beer every Thursday night while you’re at lacrosse practice.” His jaw dropped slightly, and I laughed again. “No, idiot. We’ve just interacted a lot because of my internship. Now, can we get started on the article?”

After the article was published, my next assignment was writing about the track meet a couple weeks later. I found out Allison and Lydia were riding together to the meet, so I tagged along.

Both girls were extremely tense the whole ride, seemingly concerned about something going on in the bus. We were only a few cars behind the bus full of track runners (and lacrosse players who were forced to attend the meet), but the stand-still traffic was a force to be reckoned with.

“Do you think we’re too close?” Allison asked.

“Honey, if you were any closer I think you’d mount the bus,” Lydia said sarcastically. She got a call from Stiles and looked over at Allison. “Hey, Stiles,” she dragged out the ‘hey,’ tension obvious in her voice.

She listened to what he was saying, something clearly wrong. “What do you mean he’s not–” she stopped when she remembered I was in the car, “healing?” She finished the question quietly, probably hoping I wouldn’t hear.

Healing? Is he injured?

“Yeah, ok, just find a way to get Coach to stop. We’ll meet you there.” She hung up and told Allison to pull off at the next stop.

When we got to the rest stop, I could see everyone hurrying to get off the bus. Allison parked the car, and we quickly went to the bathroom where I saw Scott nearly passed out on the floor. “Oh my god, is he okay?”

“Yeah, y/n. He’s fine. At least, he will be,” Stiles responded. He positioned his body in front of me a little bit as if he was trying to block my view of Scott.

I gently pushed him aside so I could see and was shocked to see black blood coming from the injured boy. “What the hell is going on? Why is his blood black?” I ran forward to get closer, kneeling next to Allison.

“It’s nothing. We just need to stitch him up and he’ll be fine.”

“Stiles, don’t fucking lie to me. I can see that he’s obviously not fine.”

“He’s right,” Allison said quietly. “We need to stitch him up. I need something to stitch him together with.” She looked around before remembering something in her bag.

I shook my head. “We need to tell Coach. Take him to a hospital or something.”

“No!” All three of them yelled at me.

It was quiet for a moment, all of us deciding where to go from here. “Just…” Stiles started, “please go and make sure the bus doesn’t leave without us. We’ll handle this.” I got up and slowly made my way to the door.

As I reached for the door, a hand grabbed my wrist. “y/n,” Stiles said, “it’ll make sense someday. Just trust us for now. Trust me,” he pleaded quietly out of earshot of the girls and Scott.

“I do,” I replied quietly, not meeting his eyes, before pulling my hand from his grasp and leaving the bathroom.

That night, we all had to stay at the Motel Glen Capri because of the postponed meet. I didn’t like its energy, and neither did Lydia. “A lot can happen in one night,” she said.

Though it was supposed to be two to a room, I convinced Coach to let me room with Allison and Lydia. Admittedly, Coach didn’t need much convincing because I was saving the school money by doing so. Once we got our room key, we went up to our room on the second floor.

“I’m going to go get a snack from the machine,” I told Lydia once Allison was in the shower.

She nodded. “Sounds good. I’m going to the lobby. There must be something we can do about these towels that reek of nicotine.”

Grabbing a couple one’s from my wallet, I made my way down the hall to the vending machine where I ran into Boyd and Stiles. As I approached, I could hear Stiles trying to talk to an unresponsive Boyd, who subsequently punched a hole through the glass of the machine, grab his snack that the machine refused to give him, and walk away.

“What the hell was that?” I asked Stiles as I walked up next to him.

He shrugged. “I don’t really know, to be honest.” He reached into the machine to grab his snack and tossed one to me as well.

When I got back to my room, a shaken Allison and Lydia were hurriedly talking about something. “Oh, y/n! You’re back. You won’t believe what just happened…” Allison started

She recounted the story of Scott’s bizarre behavior in the bathroom, and Lydia filled me in on the counter that they have at the front desk. “Can you imagine having a counter for the number of suicides that take place in your hotel? Crazy,” Lydia said. Taking her phone out, she sent a quick text to Stiles telling him that we all needed to talk.

We met him in the hallway a couple minutes later. “What was the text for?” Stiles asked when he saw our little gathering.

“There’s something going on with all the…” she looked over at me before continuing, “guys. You know, Scott, Boyd, Isaac, probably Ethan too.” I tried to connect the dots between all of them, but I didn’t really know what they all had in common. Scott and Isaac were both on the lacrosse team, but from what I could tell they didn’t have a particular fondness for each other or Ethan.

“I think someone’s going to die tonight,” Lydia said decisively.

“Why do you think that?” I asked, but it seemed like I was the only one questioning her line of reason.

She shook her head slowly. “I just...have a feeling.” After a moment of silence, she told us about hearing something from the room next to ours through the vent, so we decided to investigate it. Room 217 seemed empty and locked, but all of a sudden we heard the sound of a saw from behind the door.

Stiles busted the door open, and we opened it to find Ethan turning the saw on himself. “Ethan, stop!” I yelled as we ran into the room. Stiles started wrestling him for the saw, but luckily Lydia saw where it was plugged into the wall and unplugged it.

The next thing that happened was completely unexpected to me. Ethan grew fangs and claws, his eyes blazing red. What the fu–

Allison and Lydia rushed forward, wrestling his claws away from his torso where he had been planning on slashing himself. In the struggle he fell on the space heater, which apparently brought him out of whatever state he was in. He ran out of the room soon after. When we tried to question him about what he was doing, he couldn’t answer us. He had been out of control, and it made Allison realize we were forgetting someone.

“Where’s Scott?” She asked suddenly. When no one could answer, we all decided to split up – I’d go with Allison to look for Scott while Stiles and Lydia went to find Boyd and Isaac.

Scott wasn’t in his room. Allison and I ran all over the motel, looking in every crevice. At last, we decided to check the school bus, and that’s where we saw him. Standing drenched in gasoline, a flare lit up in his hand.

“Scott…” I approached quietly, careful to not make any sudden movements.

It was then that Stiles and Lydia joined us. I watched as Stiles walked into the gasoline, my breath catching in my throat as he nearly sacrificed himself. Scott was talking, but I didn’t really understand what it meant. He said that his life was better before the bite.

Stiles eventually talked Scott down, but the flare rolled into the gasoline. Luckily, Lydia was able to make sure we had all gotten out of the way. I’d ended up next to Stiles on the ground, and though we made eye contact, no words were spoken.

We spent the night in the bus because none of us could bear the thought of spending another second in that cursed place. Coach woke us up in the morning, definitely thinking the worst about what we may have gotten ourselves into, but whatever he was thinking wouldn’t possibly compare to reality. What was reality? I couldn’t have really told you at that point. I didn’t understand what we’d just lived through.

Before the other students started loading onto the bus, Stiles slid into the empty space next to me. “y/n, you know that all of this,” he made a grand gesture to Scott and the others as well as the motel, “is off the record. You can’t tell anyone about this. About what happened.” I held eye contact with him for a moment before nodding. “I wouldn’t tell anyone. To be honest, I don’t even really know what I would tell people, but I wouldn’t.” He nodded, a sad smile on his face as he looked down and fidgeted with his hands. “But Stiles,” I said as he looked back up at me. “Please help me understand it all. You can trust me, I promise, I just want to understand. I want to help.”

With a deep sigh, Stiles nodded once more. “Okay. I’ll tell you everything.”

When Stiles said he’d fill me in on everything, I didn’t realize he meant everything. I couldn’t believe how oblivious I had been to everything that had happened in the past year. Sure, I knew something weird was going on, but how was I supposed to know it was supernatural?

Finding out that my little corner of the world, little old Beacon Hills, California, had werewolves (and a kanima, pack of alphas, and whatever the hell a Darach was) was a lot to process. It was unbelievable, but Stiles helped me believe it.

I could tell that he didn’t fully trust me though. There was something in the way he looked at me that told me he was wondering when I would be done with my source acquisition and I’d write the next big exposé: Supernatural Beacon Hills: How Werewolves Have Been Hiding In Plain Sight. I didn’t know how to assure him that I was on their side and wouldn’t expose their secrets.

As the year progressed, things simultaneously made more sense and less sense. To defeat the Darach, we had to perform a sacrifice for the parents that had abducted, and Deaton – the veterinarian that had taken care of every family pet we’d ever had – told me I had to hold Stiles down during it. He said we had some sort of connection, but I guess that’s what mutual loathing does to people.

In the end, we won. We beat the Darach, the alpha of the alphas Deucalion left, and Scott became an alpha himself. But it was still just the beginning.

The sacrifice did something to Scott, Stiles, and Allison that we didn’t fully understand. Deaton said they left a door open, which only made it harder for Stiles to trust me because he could barely trust himself.

Knowing about the supernatural didn’t preclude my other responsibilities though. I still wrote for the Daily Beacon, much to Stiles’ displeasure, but I enjoyed it. So, on the first day of school I interviewed our newest faculty member – Mr. Yukimura. He and his family had just moved from New York, and his daughter Kira was in our grade. She was nice, but shy, so I invited her to have lunch with us.

Surprisingly, Kira jumped right into the conversation at lunch by mentioning bardo, the Buddhist concept of being in an in-between state.

After lunch, I caught up with Allison to walk to our next class. “Hey, Allison, could I ask you a favor?”

“Of course! What’s up?”

“Well, I don’t really know how to ask this but...I need help learning to defend myself, I guess? It’s just that I’m going to be helping you guys now, and I actually want to be helpful, so I want to protect myself so you guys don’t have to worry about me,” I admitted.

Allison smiled softly. “I’d love to help.” I returned her smile, suddenly giddy, yet nervous. “But, I think you should know that my...aim...has been off since the sacrifice.”

I could hear the disappointment in her voice. “Nonsense, I’m sure that you’re still the best shot in this school.” She shook her head. “It’s never been this bad.”

Touching her arm lightly, I gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ll figure it out together.”

A few days later, I was surprised when I was paid a visit by both Scott and Stiles while I was sitting in the library. “To what do I owe this pleasure, boys?”

“We need your help.” I perked up at Scott’s statement. “We’re trying to solve the Tate case, you know, the one where Malia Tate disappeared all those years ago after that car accident, and we could use your help tracking her down.” He looked over at Stiles and nudged him with his elbow.

“And, you can write a piece about it. Not including all the details, if what we think happened is true, but you can still write something factual,” Stiles said, still displeased that I was writing for the newspaper.

To annoy Stiles, I acted like I was really thinking about it for a minute, but then laughed lightly. “Yeah, I’ll help you guys. Where do we start?”

Pull yourself together, y/n. You’re a journalist. You’re supposed to report on tragedy all the time. Be objective.

I took a deep breath and wrote the first line for what would be the cover story of the next Daily Beacon issue.

Junior Allison Argent, 17, died in an unfortunate carjacking incident last fall.

Before I could write any more, I got a phone call from Stiles.

Oh, thank god. “Stiles?”

“Do you want to come with us to Mexico?” He blurted out.

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from my chest. “What? Mexico? Why? When–”

“Tomorrow.”

“Stiles, are you insane? Even if I wanted to, there’s no way my parents would ever let me go.”

“We’re all telling our parents we’re going camping, if that helps at all,” he said with what seemed like a hint of disappointment in his voice.

I was quiet for a minute, but my mind was already made up. “Why? And who exactly is going?”

“Scott, Lydia, Kira, Malia, and I have to visit some hunters and see what they know about Derek being missing.”

As soon as he mentioned Malia, my mouth started curling into a frown. It’s not that I disliked the werecoyote, it’s just that she and Stiles had been pretty full on since they hooked up at Eichen and started dating. I wasn’t jealous – though I’m sure Lydia would argue otherwise since she’s convinced I like him or something – just...weirded out by their relationship.

I sighed. “I want to help, but I really can’t tomorrow. School starts back up in a couple days, and I need to finish this elegy for Allison and come up with a bunch of assignments for the staff writers…” I trailed off, thinking about all that I had to do before the coming week.

“Oh yeah, I forgot. Ms. Editor-in-chief over here has a life outside of us,” Stiles joked.

Andrew graduated at the end of last year and left his glittering empire to me, though suddenly I felt overwhelmed at the prospect of running a newspaper while being way too involved in the town’s supernatural endeavors. It didn’t bother me last semester, but after Allison…

“I’ll just see you guys when you get back, okay?” I told Stiles. He made an unintelligible noise of agreement. “And try not to let anyone get killed.” “Yes, mom,” Stiles said sarcastically. I could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

When the pack got back, I was surprised by the events that had taken place. “What do you mean it’s a young version of Derek?”

A few days later, I had to cover the spring lacrosse tryouts. Though I wanted to assign it to someone else, I had to do it myself because everyone was busy with the assignments I had given them.

To my surprise, a new freshman, Liam Dunbar, showed everyone up at tryouts – even Scott. I took note of how he seemed almost athletically superior to everyone, and I wondered if he was supernatural.

“He’s human, I’m sure of it,” Scott said as he came up next to where I was sitting on the bleachers, scaring me out of my mind in the process.

“Jeez, Scott. A little warning next time would be nice. But how do you know?”

He shrugged. “I can just tell. He’s just a really great athlete.”

“He’s going to be a great pain in my ass, I can tell,” Stiles said, sidling up next to Scott.

I took note of their reactions, writing down Scott’s comment – about being a great athlete, not human – to consider while writing my piece.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re writing a story about him,” Stiles groaned.

“You know I have to write one about the tryouts, and he just happens to be the star player of today,” I told him. “Sorry, Scott.”

Scott waved me off, but Stiles was still upset about the situation. “No, don’t give him the ego boost! He’s already a little shit, and an article about him would make it worse.”

Taking a break from my note-taking, I looked over at the brown-haired boy. “Stiles, have you even talked to him?”

He looked at a loss for words. “N-not really...but I can see his arrogance from a mile away!”

I rolled my eyes. “Well then, if you’d excuse me, I’m going to write up a fantastic story about a talented up-and-coming lacrosse player.”

The article became the next issue’s front page, but I almost wished I hadn’t given him as much attention when Scott turned him into his beta.

The rest of the year didn’t go as planned either, but isn’t junior year supposed to be everyone’s worst year?

As much as I liked helping out with the supernatural problems Scott and the rest of the pack were having, it was hard knowing about what was going on and not being able to write about it, especially when all of the mysterious killings started up. We eventually found out about the deadpool, but I could write about a kill list of Beacon Hills’ resident supernaturals, could I?

At the end of the year, I finally had to make the trip to Mexico with the rest of the pack. “Stiles, I’m going. You can’t stop me!” I attempted to open the passenger door of the jeep when he reached out and shut it from behind me.

“No, it’s going to be dangerous. We don’t even really know what we’re facing,” he tried reasoning with me. “I can protect myself,” I said, thinking of the training that Allison had given me. “Besides, I can’t just sit by and wait for you guys to come back. I need to try helping Scott.”

Realizing that I wasn’t going to back down, Stiles removed his hand from the side of the door and opened it for me. I nodded a quick thanks as I hopped into the vehicle.

I wasn’t expecting to fight Scott that day, but we all did in order to return him from his Berserker form. At the end of the fight, I had a few cuts and bruises, but nothing I couldn’t deal with.

As Derek drove away with Braedan, I could feel that things were changing. “I can’t write about any of this, can I?” I asked somewhat jokingly.

“Off the record,” Stiles replied from where he stood next to me.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?”

“Oh thank god, you remember me!” He said as he grabbed my hands. He’d been running down the hall frantically when I saw him.

I looked at him with concern on my face. “Yeah, of course I remember you? Why wouldn’t I–”

“y/n, it’s the Hunt. The Ghost Riders. I saw them, and now they’re coming for me.” He was breathing heavily, eyes sweeping the surroundings for signs of the Ghost Riders. His eyes locked on something to his left, but when I looked, I couldn’t see anything. “They’re here. We have to go,” he said, pulling me towards the parking lot. We got into his jeep, but he didn’t start the car. “Stiles, what are you doing?”

“It’s too late.” I could see the look of grief on his face. “No, don’t say that. It’s not–”

“It’s the truth,” he cut me off, turning to look at me. “Promise me you won’t forget.”

I shook my head. “I won’t. But Stiles, I can’t do this without you,” I could feel a tear escaping my eye and slipping down my cheek, my emotions getting the better of me.

Stiles reached forward and wiped the tear away before placing his hand on my cheek. “What do you mean? You’re one of the smartest, most inquisitive people I know. If I had to trust anyone to find a way to stop the Ghost Riders, it would be you.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his honesty. “Yeah right. Lydia will probably figure it out before me.”

He shook his head. “You can do it. I trust you.” I could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he turned to look at something through the window over his shoulder. “Can I tell you something? Off the record.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my mouth. “Yes, of course. What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t hate you. I know it may seem like I’ve never trusted you or that I don’t care about you, but it’s actually the opposite. I...really really like you,” he admitted.

I was stunned. Stiles likes me? He was searching my face for any indication of feelings as I sat there silently.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles mumbled. “Ok, forget I said that. Well, you won’t need to forget when you forget me in a minute–”

I cut off his rambling by placing my lips on his. They were warm and familiar, as if they were made for mine. “I like you too,” I mumbled when I disconnected, my eyes still closed from the interaction.

But when I opened them, I was alone in the baby blue jeep.

All semester, I’d felt that something was missing, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Or who it was.

But after months of searching for it, we finally figured it out. Lydia had gone into a banshee trance to discover the word “Stiles,” and it brought back vague memories for me when I heard it. The feeling of soft flannel. A sarcastic laugh. Red string around my finger. A hefty wooden baseball bat.

The collection of memories made sense when we all finally got our memories back and remembered the person we were missing from our lives.

We traced the trail of clues to the sewers, where Scott tried to bring back Stiles because of their brotherly love for one another. I thought it would work, but the portal closed and Stiles hadn’t appeared. Come on, Stiles. Where are you?

We had to fight the Ghost Riders off, making sure they didn’t turn our beloved Beacon Hills into another ghost town. I’d run into the high school, looking for something to use as a weapon when I ran into someone in the hall. A tall, brown-haired figure wearing a flannel shirt. “Stiles?”

He turned, and smiles emerged on both of our faces. I broke into a run again, right into his arms. “I can’t believe you’re here. You’re really here.” I mumbled, the sound muffled against his shirt.

“I knew you could do it,” he said.

I pulled back slightly and looked up at his face, suddenly nervous. “That night in the jeep...did you hear what I told you before you disappeared?”

A soft smile rested on his face. “Of course I did. It was the one thing that kept me going, especially when I was stuck with Peter.”

“Peter Hale? Why the hell were you with Peter Hale?”

Stiles shook his head. “We can go over that later. For now, there’s one thing I’ve been wanting to do.” I was a little confused, but I understood once he leaned in and connected our lips.

This is what I’d been missing, and I was never going to let it go again.

I watched from afar as Stiles gave his trusty baseball bat to Mason, who didn’t seem to appreciate the hunk of wood.

“Have you told him yet?” Lydia asked as she appeared next to me.

I shook my head. “We haven’t really had time to talk about that stuff. I think he doesn’t really want to think about it just yet and what that might mean for us.”

She nudged me with her elbow, silently telling me to go over there and talk to him. Rolling my eyes, I walked towards the familiar blue jeep and familiar mess of brown hair.

Liam and Mason had already walked away, and Scott and Stiles were standing and talking at the jeep’s trunk. “Hey, y/n. I’m just heading out, but I’ll see you guys later,” Scott said as I came up and Stiles threw his arm around me.

We waved as Scott left, and Stiles pulled me closer. “Hey,” he said, looking down at me with an affectionate expression.

I pulled him over so we could sit in the open trunk. “We need to talk.” I could see the panic flare up in his eyes.

“Oh, um, okay? Is everything okay?”

Chuckling lightly, I nodded. “Yeah, we just haven’t talked about college at all,” I explained.

His head dropped. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want it to ruin what we have here, and I don’t even know what life will be like outside of Beacon Hills, and I feel like we just got together and now–”

“Stiles,” I cut him off. “I’m going to GW too.”

His eyes widened at my confession. “You...you’re going to GW?”

I nodded, a small smile on my lips. “I committed a while ago. I’m going to study journalism there.”

I watched as a smile spread across his face. Then, it was replaced by a quick smirk. “Oh great, you’re following me there, huh? I just can’t seem to get rid of you.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I’m going to need someone to give me the inside scoop on the FBI’s antics.”

He looked pensive for a moment. “I think what you’re describing is illegal.”

“Not if it’s in the public’s interest. But maybe it just needs to be off the record,” I admitted. Stiles laughed. “Oh, it’s definitely going to be off the record.”

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski x reader #scott mccall #lydia martin #allison argent #hot take: scott should have brought back stiles in 6b not lydia #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski one shot #dylan obrien #isaac lahey #dylan o'brien

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