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lestappenforever · 1 month

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Lestappen fic - Ice cream shop owner!Charles AU

I don't typically get excited by AU ideas for Lestappen because Lestappen in canonverse is so appealing to me in and of itself. But, while AO3 was down yesterday, @thearchercore received and answered a whole bunch of asks from lovely anons about a Lestappen AU fic where Charles owns an ice cream shop (as inspired by the news that the man is actually going to open an ice cream shop in Milan.) And, well, for the first time ever, I got excited about a Lestappen AU. So, I wrote something.

This is, obviously, dedicated to the incredible @thearchercore, a true pillar of the Lestappen community, and to each and every anon who has sent in asks about this AU. And because this was entirely inspired by people on Tumblr, you can read the whole fic in this post. ❤️

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Max realizes that he has probably let this whole thing go too far. Way too far.

What had started as a chance encounter after the Monza Grand Prix, where Max had gone on a drive and ended up in a small, lovely ice cream shop - LEC - in Milan that served the most delicious vanilla ice cream Max had ever tasted, had spiraled and developed into what was now practically a weekly occurrence. Every chance he got, when the race calendar, his PR and training schedule would allow it, Max would fly to Milan, spending ridiculous amounts of money and contributing an unnecessary amount to further pollute the environment, just to go back to that ice cream shop.

And yes, although the vanilla ice cream was divine, that's not the real reason Max kept coming back.

No, the real cause of his travels was the ridiculously beautiful shop owner, with the fluffy brown hair, the captivating green eyes Max kind of wanted to drown himself in, and dimples that Max saw every single night when he closed his eyes. And what’s more, the shop owner — Charles — didn't even seem to like Max, because the Monégasque was a die-hard Ferrari fan and he seemed to have made it his personal mission to put all the blame of Ferrari’s lack of success for the past fifteen years on Max. Even if Max hadn’t been in F1 for the entirety of those fifteen years.

Not that he was surprised, really. The passion of the Tifosi did, on more than one occasion, seem to seriously impact their sense of logic and capability of rational thinking.

And apparently, the beauty, sass and stubbornness of the shop owner did the exact same thing to Max's.

The irony of that is not lost on him.

The fact that the two of them had discovered they were on the same page about the superior ice cream flavor the first time Max had been in that ice cream shop — “vanilla is my favorite” Max had said at exactly the same time Charles had said “vanilla is the only right choice” — had not been enough to endear him to Charles. His allegiance with Ferrari and Max currently on yet another dominating winning spree with Red Bull was too strong. (Even if there had been the flicker of something in those green eyes when Charles had learned that he and Max were on the same page about vanilla ice cream.)

After yet another failed attempt at charming Charles a few weeks ago, Max had gotten so desperate that he had genuinely started considering a move to Ferrari, even starting to subtly ask around about the possibility, Red Bull’s superior car and strategies be damned. But then word had reached GP and his race engineer had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he would not be moving to Ferrari to impress ‘some ice cream guy in Milan’. Which Max had taken offense to, because Charles was not just ‘some ice cream guy in Milan’, thank you very much.

(Max really had to learn how to keep his mouth shut around GP.)

So yes, his obsession with the ice cream shop and its owner has gone way too far. And yet, on a warm August afternoon, Max finds himself walking back into that ice cream shop.

Summer break has finally arrived, and Max had genuinely considered renting an apartment in Milan for the next three weeks so he wouldn't have to fly back and forth so much. But then he had come to the conclusion that that would be excessive.

(Because flying back and forth between Monaco and Milan definitely wasn’t excessive. No, sir.)

Charles is there when Max walks in, as he is every single time Max walks in. The guy never seems to leave his beloved ice cream shop, and Max finds himself wondering if the other man gets enough sleep. Or if he even goes home to sleep, or if he has a bed set up in the back somewhere so he never has to waste time going back and forth between the ice cream shop and his home.

He may not know Charles all that well, despite seeing him regularly for the past few months, but he does know that the man must have an incredible work ethic.

The little bell above the door announces his arrival, and Charles looks up from behind the counter. For a brief second, Max is sure he sees a flash of excitement cross those gorgeous features, but the Monégasque quickly schools his expression into one of exasperation and indignation, complete with an overly dramatic eye roll.

“No Red Bull Racing team members allowed,” Charles tells him with a huff, as he puts a brand-new tub of chocolate ice cream in the display freezer.

Max snorts as he walks towards the counter. He had expected a frosty — pun intended — reception following Ferrari’s double DNF in the last race before the summer break, so Charles’ grumpy demeanor doesn’t deter him.

“Hello to you too, Charles,” the Dutchman sing-songs, ignoring the way a couple of teenage girls at a table by the window gape at him. “Let me guess, Ferrari’s double DNF in Belgium was somehow my fault?”

Charles meets his gaze and narrows his eyes. He points an ice cream scoop at him. “I am not sure how, but yes.” He waggles the scoop accusingly.

It’s Max’s turn to roll his eyes. “Right, because the two of them crashing into each other in turn two, while in P8 and P9 respectively, while I was at the very front definitely had something to do with me?”

“Obviously,” Charles confirms with a sniff.

“You’re ridiculous,” Max laughs, shaking his head in a manner that can only be described as fond. He comes to a halt in front of the cash register at the counter, and waits for Charles to ask him what he wants.

But Charles never does; instead busies himself with rearranging the different bowls of topping on top of the display freezer, wiping down the counter, and restocking the ice cream cones, all the while completely ignoring Max’s presence. Or general existence, even.

Eventually, Max runs out of patience.

“I’d like three scoops of vanilla ice cream, please.”

Charles doesn’t even stop what he’s doing. Doesn’t even look at him. “We’re all out of vanilla.”

Max stares. At Charles, then at the almost full tub of vanilla, with its little sign labeling it as vanilla sticking out of the fluffy ice cream.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Charles, I can see the vanilla ice cream. It’s right there,” Max insists, pointing at the flavor through the display glass. As if Charles isn’t completely aware of its existence, as if he’s not just being a little shit and punishing Max for something that isn’t even remotely his fault.

Charles pauses in his bustling to look at Max. Then, he follows the length of Max’s arm to where his finger is pointing directly at the vanilla. His gaze returns to Max’s eyes as he says, deadpan: “That is only a display ice cream.”

Max blinks repeatedly.

“A display ice cream?” he echoes incredulously.

“Yes,” Charles confirms, raising his chin. “It’s only for display, it is not to be served.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well, it’s like this,” the Monégasque says, lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug.

Max doesn’t know if he wants to smack him or kiss him.

(That’s a lie, he knows damn well that he wants to kiss that smug look right off of Charles’ stupidly beautiful face.)

“Fine,” the Dutchman sighs, moving his finger slightly to the right. “Then I would like three scoops of the chocolate.”

“I’m sorry, but that is also only a display ice cream,” Charles tells him with a completely straight face.

“You’re not serious.”

Charles raises one full eyebrow. “Does it look like I’m joking?” he asks.

And, well, Max has to admit that it absolutely does not.

He stands there in silence for a while, wondering why the hell this infuriating man has been the object of his deepest desires for the past few months. Wonders why Charles’ face is the only thing he sees when he closes his eyes to sleep at night, and why he is the one person that keeps appearing in the majority of his dreams. Wonders why, when his mind wanders as he has a secure grip around himself in bed, it keeps wandering to the mental images of what Charles would look like, feel like, sound like if he was there with Max, when all Charles seems to want to do is get under Max’s skin and infuriate him in ways and for reasons Max hadn’t even known he could let himself be infuriated.

Oh, who is he kidding? Those reasons, coupled with Charles’ overall appearance and being, are exactly why his mind never seems to tire of Charles whatever-the-fuck-his-middle-name-is Leclerc, and only him.

Max has always been a sucker for challenges. And Charles is definitely a challenge.

Had Charles been an F1 driver instead of the owner of an ice cream shop, Max just knows their on-track battles would have been epic. Their rivalry would have been one for the ages; their names and lives so intertwined that people could not have mentioned one without also mentioning the other. Because Max is sure that Charles’ passion, his stubbornness and his outright refusal to give in to anything or anyone would have translated into a fierce, unyielding, unapologetic driver.

Forcing himself out of his reverie, Max gives a quick shake of his head to clear is racing mind. Then, he fixes Charles with a hard stare.

“Let me guess, these are all ‘display ice creams’?” he asks, gesturing with a hand at the numerous tubs of flavors in the display freezer.

“Of course not,” Charles scoffs, as if that’s the most ridiculous statement that has been made in the ice cream shop in the past few minutes. “That would be a horrible way to run a business. We have one flavor that is not only for display.”

Max is almost afraid to ask, but he does anyway. “Which is?”

Charles doesn’t answer the question with words, just points to the bottom tub at the far left. The little sign reads ‘Mint chip’.

“Who the fuck eats mint chip ice cream?” Max asks, scrunching up his nose in disgust. “That’s like eating toothpaste.”

For the first time since Max stepped through the door, Charles smiles. A beautiful, self-satisfied, mischievous smile that does things to Max’s body, mind and soul. It makes his heart rate pick up and his skin tingle with an excitement he has no business feeling.

Pathetic. He’s absolutely pathetic.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Max. That's all I have to offer today.”

And Max, proving just how completely gone he is on this ridiculous man, lets out a long, tired sigh.

“Three scoops of mint chip, please,” he requests in a voice that is completely resigned.

Charles’ face lights up like a fucking Christmas tree, and he scurries to get one of the small glass bowls reserved for customers who want to eat their ice cream in the shop, not even needing to ask if that’s what Max is planning to do, or if he wants his ice cream in a cone. And although Charles is doing his damnedest to make Max believe that his general existence on this earth is causing Charles physical pain and emotional turmoil, the fact that Charles remembers his preference doesn’t go unnoticed by Max.

He won’t even entertain the idea that Charles might just be adamant on making Max sit in his shop and eat his mint chip ice cream so Charles can watch him suffer with every spoonful.

Charles is generous with the scoops — incredibly so — and Max is sure those three scoops he requested actually equal the size of at least six regular-sized scoops. He realizes that he probably should have asked for one scoop instead of three. He watches as Charles sticks a spoon in the ice cream and places the bowl on the counter in front of Max with the biggest grin on his face.

“It’s on the house,” Charles tells him, probably just to further add to Max’s suffering.

The Dutchman eyes the bowl of ice cream warily, quietly cursing it and himself, before picking it up with a hesitating hand. Charles watches him expectantly the entire time as Max makes his way to a small table in one corner of the shop. Behind him, a small child, probably around five or six, had entered the shop with his mother while Max was waiting for Charles to finish scooping, and Max hears the boy ask for two scoops of strawberry ice cream. And Charles — the fucking asshole — makes a point out of saying ‘coming right up’ in both Italian and English just to fuck with Max some more.

Max takes a seat with his back to the window so he can face Charles. Because if nothing else, he’s not going to let Charles win.

The first spoonful really does taste like toothpaste with a hint of chocolate, and it’s an awful combination. It takes every ounce of willpower Max has not to let the disgust he’s feeling show on his face. He lets the ice cream melt in his mouth for a long moment, before swallowing the disgusting liquidized ice cream, all the while maintaining a completely unaffected expression.

Charles watches him eat the entire bowl of ice cream, and Max never breaks eye contact. With every expressionless swallow, Max can see the thinly veiled disappointment on Charles’ face and the satisfaction he gets from that is enough to motivate him to finish every single bite. He even makes a point out of scraping the melted remains of the ice cream from the sides of the bowl, scooping it up into a mint green coloured soup in his spoon, and eating it. He even briefly considers licking the bowl clean just to get a rise out of Charles, but the Monégasque turns away from him with a huff before he can put his plan into action.

Which, thank fuck, because Max is starting to feel a bit sick from the ridiculous amount of toothpaste-flavored ice cream he has just consumed out of spite and spite alone. He pushes the bowl forward and away from himself on the table with a frown.

Charles goes back to ignoring his presence for the next fifteen minutes, and Max waits. Just because he can — just because he knows this wasn’t the outcome Charles had expected and he wants to revel in the satisfaction of finally getting under Charles’ skin for once for a little while longer.

Eventually, Charles comes to collect his empty bowl and gives Max a disapproving glare.

“Well? How was it?”

And Max, unable to resist, gives Charles his biggest, brightest smile. “It was delicious, thank you.”

If looks could kill, Max would have been dead. Then, Charles turns on his heels and walks away with Max’s empty bowl and spoon.

Taking the win, Max gets to his feet and waits for Charles to look over at him from behind the counter. When he does, he gives the other man a wave. “See you tomorrow, Charles.”

“You’re not coming back tomorrow!” Charles shoots back.

“Oh, but I am,” Max counters. It sounds like a promise, and it is.

As he walks out of the ice cream shop, feeling Charles’ gaze boring into the back of his head as he does, Max pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts looking up hotels in the area with available rooms.

***

Max stays in Milan for two weeks, and he goes to Charles’ ice cream shop every single day.

Every day, Charles tells him the only flavor he can serve him is mint chip. By day three, Max has stopped trying to argue with him. By day five, Max orders vanilla and Charles responds with ‘three scoops of mint chip coming up’. And every day, Max sits at his little table by the window to eat his ice cream while Charles stands behind the counter, watching him eat the entire time.

Every. Single. Day.

And every single day, Max can see Charles’ resolve crumbling, little by little, convincing him that his tragic efforts are not in complete vain. They might be mostly in vain, but Max is in far too deep at this point to care.

On the eighth day, Max stays until closing and Charles spends the majority of his free moments actually hanging around Max’s table and engaging him in conversation. It's a step in the right direction, even if Charles does end up kicking the Dutchman out when he has to count the register.

And on the eleventh day, as Max is about to leave after finishing yet another disgusting, massive portion of mint chip ice cream, Charles finds himself looking at the blond from behind the counter, watching as Max smiles down at his phone. Those piercing blue eyes are crinkling in delight, causing adorable smile lines to appear at their corners, his full, inviting lips stretching to expose his straight, white teeth. A wave of something — jealousy, Charles would define it as if he wasn’t a pigheaded dick when it comes to four-time F1 World Champion Max Emilian Verstappen — washes over him at the thought of whatever or whoever it is that puts that smile on Max's face.

It makes the Monégasque realize that all of his attempts over the past few months to convince himself that he doesn’t find Max attractive or charming as hell, and that he definitely doesn’t want to find out whether Max likes vanilla in bed, too, have been for naught.

And so, with an overwhelming feeling that he's losing a battle he's been fighting for months, Charles throws away the paper towel he had been using to dry his hands and resigns himself to his fate. Because sometimes, perseverence needs to be rewarded.

And he's not just referring to Max's.

“You can take me out to dinner tonight,” he tells Max, and it sounds like the statement pains him. Which it kind of does.

Max stops dead, one hand on the door handle, half-turned to face Charles. The look on his face is one of utter surprise.

“Really?” he asks, and he sounds so fucking hopeful that it should probably make Charles change his mind. But instead, it makes him want to close up the shop immediately and let Max take him out to dinner right fucking now.

Which is pathetic, really. But then again, so is the way Charles has been waking up every day hoping Max Verstappen would walk through the door of his ice cream shop for the past few months.

But, having no intention of showing his hand, Charles maintains a stoic expression as he nods.

“Pick me up here at nine.”

Max's smile is so wide that Charles wonders if it makes his cheeks hurt. He also wonders if said cheeks will feel as warm to the touch as they look.

“Okay,” Max says, still smiling. “Then I'll see you again at nine.”

And with that, Max turns, pulls the door open, and walks out of the shop.

When Charles can only just see the back of the Dutchman through the window, he sees Max stopping briefly on the sidewalk and pumping his fist in the air in the same celebratory manner Charles has seen after so many victorious races over the years.

He looks ridiculous, and Charles might just be falling a little bit in love with him.

Charles doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

***

It turns out that Max's preferences in bed are far more adventurous than his taste in ice cream.

Which turns out to be yet another thing they're on the same page about.

#Lestappen #Lestappen fic #My writing #thearchercore #Ice cream shop AU

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bloodynereid · 1 year

Note

hey i was wondering if you could write a warren rojas x reader fic where the reader is an absolute rockstar and what their relationship would be like since they’re two musicians dating one another while living with the six

i love ur writing

tyyy 💕💕💕

Rhythm of Our Love

pairing: warren rojas/rhodes x fem! reader

a/n: hi! tysm for ur request and hopefully I fulfilled it the best I could. also u didn't specify if you wanted fem or gender neutral reader so i kind of just went with fem if that's okay. also this fic kind of ran away from me so I guess you just get to spend 5.3k words falling more in love with warren (I personally like longer fics). oh and there's a lot of billy bashing in this, which wasn't really intentional but yk it happens. oh and btw i hadn't watched the new episodes yet when i wrote this so this is really just mixed with some book events so book spoilers (!!) - reader is kind of like female pete if that makes sense

tw: drug mentions (mescaline, weed, pills), addiction mentions, billy bashing (don't know if that qualifies as a warning lmao), swearing, cigarette smoking, mentions of cheating (billy and camila - not warren + reader)

description: the rise to fame of a band and the love story between the drummer and bassist that accompanies it.

Y/N (bassist for Daisy Jones & The Six): Is this on? Yeah okay right. So where do you want me to start? The beginning. Geez okay let’s start at the beginning then.

You grew up living next to the Dunne brothers and ended up taking up bass after listening to Queen and The Beatles. John Deacon and Paul McCartney made those songs what they were and you were proud to be able to play something similar to them. So it was only natural that you ended up joining the Dunne brothers after Graham accidentally heard you playing one summer night.

Y/N: God I can remember the first time I played with them so clearly. They had become a pretty established band in Hazelwood but Chuck had quit, wanting to go to dental school or some shit like that, so they were going to give the bass part to Eddie, until Graham found me.

Eddie: Y/N was a lifesaver. I would have to play bass if Graham hadn’t gotten her to join. Plus she was one of the best things that could have happened to the band.

It was a chilly night but you rocked up to your neighbor’s garage wearing a pair of flared jeans and a butterfly top. Your bass slung over your shoulder and a cigarette between your lips.

Warren: Y/N was a total rockstar from the beginning. And the way she carried herself that night, man, she was the most attractive woman I had ever seen.

“So are we ready to get this show on the road? I’ve been working on the sheets that Graham gave me yesterday.” You said as you entered the small room where all the boys were already tuning up and Warren was playing a random rhythm on the drums.

“We’re opening for the Winters in two days. Make sure you aren’t still ‘working’ on those sheets.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” You gave him a little salute whilst rolling your eyes which learned a few laughs from the group and a frown from Billy.

“Whatever, let’s just get this going.”

Graham: Billy was an asshole when he first met Y/N. Similar to how he was with Daisy, but he knew we needed her.

Eddie: Y/N handled Billy better than I think anyone ever has. She met his challenges with blunt sarcasm and humor. Anyone who could deal with his bullshit made an instant friend with me.

Warren: I don’t think she knew how hot I found her at that moment.

Y/N: I knew. I mean I had been harboring a little crush on Warren since middle school. I wanted to impress him and I would say I succeeded.

Warren: She had a crush on me in MIDDLE SCHOOL? If I had known that it would have made things a hell of a lot easier.

Y/N: Fast-forward two days, came the night that changed everything. I mean my first gig was the time we opened for the Winters. My fingers were cramping and I had a horrible backache from the amount of practice I had been doing. On a plus side I got to meet Camila. She was just… incredible. God knows that Billy doesn’t deserve that wonderful woman at all.

You were running on a total of 2 hours of sleep. The past two nights had been spent practicing the pieces over and over again by yourself. And then the days were filled with practice with the boys. The band needed this to be perfect and you understood the weight of that completely. You were a rockstar. You were meant for this. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself as you walked into the performing area, staring wide eyed at the space.

Y/N: All I was thinking was: “You better not fuck this up.” That was the night we also met Karen. Karen Karen, my soon to be best friend. She was the keyboardist for The Winters and let’s just say Graham fell in love at first sight.

Right before we were about to go on stage a sudden crushing feeling started to encompass your chest. You were actually going to do this. Oh fuck.

Warren: I could tell she was having a freakout. I mean if it was my first time playing with a new band AND I had only had 2 days to practice I would have been hyperventilating. So I went up to her.

“What’s your favorite fruit?” That silky voice brought you out of your spiral with the most absurd question that had ever been uttered.

“Uh what?”

“What’s your favorite fruit? Mine personally are strawberries.”

“Oh umm I don’t know, I kind of like Y/F/F (your favorite fruit).”

“Cool, you good?” That was when you realized what he had done. You sent Warren a blinding smile and leaned to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Yeah thanks I owe you one.”

Warren: Call me a sap or whatever but I can still feel that kiss. I treasured that for a long time. Anyways, she was incredible that night.

Y/N: There was like this electrifying feeling of being on stage and playing to all those people. I wanted to feel like that forever. Maybe it was also pure exhaustion but I swear it felt like I was on a high.

Billy: She played really well, I mean for a person who had two days of practice.

Y/N: We met Rod Reyes after our set. The man was a douchebag but he planted that LA dream in all of us. I was probably too exhausted to have been making decisions of that kind but…

“If you all will have me, I say fuck it let’s go to LA!”

“Let’s go to LA!”

Y/N: None of us stayed for the Camila and Billy drama, so Warren dropped me off last. We smoked weed for a while. We talked about all that weird philosophical shit that you talk about when high. Then I crashed for a few hours.

It was raining buckets. You pulled up in your dad’s car outside of Warren’s house. You had those weirdly unattached parents who really didn’t give a damn about what you did. They already had their hopes pinned on your older brothers so when you asked if you could move to LA, your parents couldn’t have helped you pack up faster.

“Bye dad.”

“Bye sweetheart. Don’t forget your bass.” He gave you an uncomfortable hug before passing your last suitcase filled with small remnants of your life.

“Hey Mr. L/N. I can take that.”

“Thanks Graham.” He quickly put up your few suitcases on the roof and you waved at your dad as he disappeared into the blankets of rain.

“Ready?”

“Definitely.” Warren helped you into the van and you got situated in a comfortable spot. You lit up one of your cigarettes and opened up the pages of your slightly damp book, waiting for a while until finally everything seemed ready to go. Well not everything.

“Got room for one more?” Camila got into the van and sent you a little smile before cosying up next to Billy.

Y/N: That road trip was one of those things that was both horrible and incredible at the same time. But when we got to LA man wow it was like we were transported and then we met Rod Reyes, again. He was such an asshole but at least we finally had some gigs lined up and a house, but calling it that might actually be a bit generous.

Warren: Graham insisted we kept the haunted room for Karen. And obviously Billy and Camila got a room. Which meant Y/N was either stuck on the couch or rooming with one of us. And… Graham and Eddie already called the bunks.

“This is so fucking unfair! Why does your non-existent girlfriend get a room and I don’t?”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Fuck you Graham. Where the fuck am I meant to sleep then huh?”

“Uh well Eddie and I are sharing the bunks.”

Y/N: It was like a really bad romance movie.

“You have got to be kidding me! Did any of you even think to count the rooms in this house?”

“Guys just shut the fuck up. Y/N you’re going to sleep in Warren’s room and that’s final. You’re all acting like children.”

Y/N: That was also one of the many times that Camila basically acted like our mother, in a good way.

“You know what, fine! I hope you’re happy Graham.” You said as you slammed the door to your new room and unpacked in a furious hurry.

Warren: There was a king sized bed that took up basically the entirety of our room. Honestly it was one of the worst rooms in the house, but at least it wasn’t haunted!

Y/N: Warren wanted to take the floor but if you saw that room you would know that the floor basically consisted of like a slab of wood. The closet and the bed took up the entire space and then there was this huge window. It didn’t even have curtains! Whoever designed that room was an idiot. But we didn’t have the money for anything else.

Warren: I tried to be a gentleman about it but like I would never have been able to sleep on the floor and I wasn’t sleeping outside.

Y/N: Not going to lie after that first night I was kind of grateful to Graham. Don’t tell him I said that though. Anyways we played so many gigs and were getting nowhere. And we were slowly running out of money. Oh and Karen did end up joining the band and she got the room.

You were all seated in some random diner with Camila counting out all the money you had gotten from gigs and your little part-time job working at a movie theater. On your side of the table sat Karen, Warren, you and then Eddie.

“Why are we still called the Dunne brothers, anyway?” That ended up sparking up a rather loud discussion of our side of the table against Billy. You rolled your eyes and leaned your head on Warren’s shoulder. You could see his stupid smile as he looked down at you so you just poked him in the ribs and he laughed.

“I for one am for changing the name.” You said as you took a drag of your cigarette, adding to the already thick cloud of smoke that surrounded the band.

“You see, Billy, basically the entire band is against you on this one.”

“No, no. The band name is what gives us credibility if we change it then all of our reputation goes out of the window.”

“Oh our Pittsburgh reputation really? Or maybe the reputation of not being able to get good gigs.” You barked back at the already angry man which made Eddie send you a grateful smile.

Then came the barrage of horrible name ideas, including one from Warren that made you look up at him from his shoulder in confusion and slight disgust.

“Look okay, the seven of us will never agree on the name.” That’s when it came to you.

“What about The Six?”

“Huh?” Everyone turned to you as you sat up and took a sip of Warren’s coffee.

“I mean no offense Camila but you aren’t technically part of the band so there’s six of us. We can be called The Six. The Five is used too much and The Seven sounds like way too many members so how about The Six?”

“You know what, I like it.”

“Me too.”

Y/N: So we had a shiny new band name, my relationship with Warren had gone from band mates to really good friends. And no I don’t mean that in an innuendo way but you get really close to someone you have to share a bed with every night. We had some good nights.

Warren: I always thought that Y/N would end up moving in with Karen after she joined but she didn’t. I think she knew that that room was haunted.

“So who do you think the most attractive person in the band is?” You and Warren were lying on the bed in a drug addled haze after taking some mushrooms he had gotten from one of his hippie friends.

“Huh?” You sluggishly turned to look at his face, finding that his eyes were already on you.

“Who do you think is the most attractive in the band?”

“Hmm I don’t know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean Graham and Billy aren’t my type. Eddie is hopelessly in love with Camila-”

“Wait what?”

“Dude are you blind?”

“No? I mean I know Graham likes Karen but she doesn’t like him.”

“That is like the most obvious observation I have ever heard.”

“Hey! So that just leaves… Camila, Karen and me. Wait, is Camila the person who you find most attractive? I’m not judging if she is.”

“I can’t lie she’s really pretty and Karen is absolutely stunning but no not the person I find most attractive.”

“Me?”

“Yes dumbass. Now it’s your turn to answer the question.”

“Oh that’s easy, you obviously.” You smiled bashfully at him as his mischievous smirk grew.

“You are too charming for your own good.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” That was when you both fell silent. Maybe it was the confidence the drugs gave you but you quickly gave him a kiss before backing away.

“You like me back?”

“Obviously you dumbass, I've liked you for ages. Why do you think I’ve been cuddling with you for the past few months? I don’t do that with every single person I know.”

“I don’t know.”

“Just shut up and kiss me again.”

Y/N: As I said, a really cheesy romance movie. But I found Warren and we fit like puzzle pieces.

Warren: We were high on shrooms when she kissed me. We didn’t do much else that night, other than kissing and then sleeping.

Y/N: I may have loved Warren but we weren’t sleeping together until I knew he was serious. I had seen him with the small amount of groupies that we had. I’m not a jealous woman but that right there boiled my very core.

Warren: I stopped hanging out with the groupies after that night. Y/N became the light of my life, I wasn’t going to ruin the only good thing going for me that wasn’t the band.

Y/N: Then Billy convinced Teddy Price to listen to one of our songs. I have no idea how he did it. The next few months after that song were the most anxiety I had ever experienced but they were also the happiest. I was doing what I loved and I was doing it with the person I loved. Then we got to record the album.

Karen: Y/N and Warren went official a few weeks before we got the album deal. They were the most obnoxiously cute couple I had ever been around. And they complemented each other incredibly well.

Graham: Honestly I take it as full credit to my genius that those two first got together.

Camila: Oh Y/N and Warren… god they were one of those strangely healthy couples. They were living the life, they had each other, the band and the drugs. They were insanely happy together.

Y/N: We were going to go on tour! That was huge for us and for me. A few days before we went though, Camila told us she was pregnant. They got married that night.

Warren: The wedding? Oh I don’t remember it that much. Mescaline… well it’s a powerful drug.

Y/N: Did Warren tell you we were on mescaline the entire night? Yeah. God, I wish I had been more present in that moment but we truly were having the time of our lives. Camila being pregnant also put things into perspective for us. Protection wasn’t a big thing in the 70s but I had been taking birth control after I read a few books. I wasn’t taking any chances.

Warren: Yeah we had a deep discussion about that. I think that was one of the many times where I realized how shit it was to be a woman of that time. I supported whatever she wanted to do fully.

Y/N: We went on tour. It was fine. Billy was an asshole but he went off the rails. I mean Warren and I were a bit out of control cause you know… fame. But Billy, he went hard on all the drugs and the groupies.

Warren: We were there to have a good time but I also recognized something in Billy that I never wanted to be. I stayed away from the hard drugs and sure we hung out with groupies but I would never betray Y/N like that.

Y/N: Then Camila arrived, heavily pregnant and she found Billy getting it on with some groupie. Fuck, I really tried to call her but you never want to hurt someone like that you know. Fast forward a few shows and well we found out Camila had given birth. Teddy put Billy in a rehab center. We cut the tour short and that fucked it up with the label. I think it also made me realize how incredibly lucky I was to have found Warren.

Warren: The next few months the band was idle. Y/N and I did a ton of mushrooms and we helped babysit Julia. It was actually really nice and domestic.

Y/N: I was bored out of my mind. I wasn’t suited for an idle lifestyle. When Billy decided to stop being an idiot and rejoined the band, things finally started to look up. And then we all met Daisy Jones.

“Why can’t we just have Karen or Y/N sing this stuff? If you want an edge we have that already.”

“Oh no way, Billy. I don’t sing, I’ll help with backing but that’s it.” You said as you stamped out your cigarette on the tray.

“I’m with Y/N. Plus I agree with Teddy, it will give us a new sound.” Billy stormed out of the room at that leaving you and the rest of the band to chuckle at his dramatics.

Y/N: We were all enraptured with her when she first walked into the studio. She was wearing a button down shirt and no pants. That made one hell of an entrance. And of course, Billy wasn’t pleased.

“Hi nice to meet you Daisy. I’m Y/N.” You said as she walked into the recording studio while Warren’s arm was secured around your shoulders.

“You too. Thank you all for having me.”

“You’re welcome.” Graham answered.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road.” You and the rest of the band left the room and went into the production booth.

Y/N: She was incredible. Even if she did try to change up Billy’s song. Personally I always liked her version. After that recording session it all kind of blew up. Billy wanted to keep the song as it was and obviously he did that until Daisy showed up to one of our shows at The Whisky. We then headed out to our world tour, The Numbers tour as it was dubbed featuring Daisy Jones.

Warren: We were making money, a ton of money at that. Sold out shows everywhere we went.

Y/N: I’m pretty sure that was the tour that Karen and Graham started hooking up. Warren didn’t believe me, he had his own theories. Like he thought Bones, our lighting guy… *cue you breaking out into laughter*, sorry sorry, but geez yeah Warren was honestly the most clueless guy I had ever met and I loved him for it. Then came the show for Rolling Stone, that was an incredible show but Eddie… that man had basically become my brother at that point. What Billy did was one of the worst things he could have ever done to him.

Eddie: I couldn’t take it anymore so I had to do something.

Y/N: I understood why he smashed that guitar. I would have done the same thing. But my bass was also something I had basically built all by myself. I wasn’t going to hurt my baby.

After all of the drama, you quickly made your way over to Eddie before Jonah Berg came down. A cup of water in hand and a cigarette dangling from your lips.

“Ed?” You walked up next to your best friend and gave him a little shoulder nudge.

“Oh hey Y/N.” His voice sounded thick with underlying rage. One that you recognized all too well.

“I’m really fucking sorry.” And you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

Y/N: When you spend a long time around someone you kind of learn their tells. Warren and I were incredibly good at reading each other. And I was just incredibly similar to Eddie, so I knew how to help him… we both have really horrible tempers. Warren and the drugs had been helping but Eddie didn’t have a Warren.

Eddie: What Y/N did after that show… she knew I didn’t want to talk about it. She became my sister at that moment.

Y/N: I think Warren and I should have probably stopped Daisy. But we were sort of mooching off her stash. We promised each other to not go on the hard stuff but I think I was getting addicted.

Warren: Drugs were a normal thing in the 70s and we were having fun! But yeah I was feeling like I was starting to depend on pills.

Y/N: I was getting sloppy with my playing so I knew I needed to start weaning myself off it. We didn’t know much about addiction back then so it was hard to stop but we did the best we could. Well for one thing we didn’t go cold turkey.

Warren: When she told me, I understood her completely, I was feeling the effects of it too. We kind of talked through it a bunch and decided we should probably lay off the heavier psychedelics. Being rockstars meant you were down to have fun but if she wasn’t happy then I was going to try and remedy that.

Eddie: I think after the whole Glasgow thing I saw Y/N become more level headed. The same with Warren. I think they made some decision to get like moderately clean. They were still smoking pot and stuff but stopped with the pills and harder stuff.

Karen: I swear I thought they were either trying to get pregnant or Y/N already was. The fact that after that Rolling Stone interview they suddenly stopped taking anything stronger than weed is probably what made me suspicious.

Y/N: I ended up sitting next to Eddie for most of the flight back, leaving Warren to sleep. I think we were the only two band members that weren’t consulted about Daisy, but I honestly didn’t give a damn. It was nice to have another girl around and… I was probably feeling the withdrawal.

Warren: When we got back to LA, I bought a one-bedroom Gibson.

Y/N: Warren bought a boat and I bought a little house which has a boat dock, it was kind of like a perfect compromise.

Warren: I kept my boat mostly at Y/N’s house but we occasionally went on little trips. Mostly we drank beers on it and spent nights at the house. Y/N took up sports for some reason but I wasn’t going to complain, she looked hot.

Y/N: Yeah, I took up surfing, boxing and got into soccer. I was still practicing bass daily but without the band getting together much that summer, Warren and I kind of just did whatever. We smoked a lot of weed too. We were moderately clean and we were happy but I think deep down we missed life on the road.

Warren: Neither of us were ones for settling down. That’s probably why Y/N got into sports and I bought that boat. Oh and Eddie was around a lot. At first I thought he was trying to get into Y/N’s pants or something but they have this weird bond that reminded me of how my sisters and I acted.

Eddie: I visited Y/N and Warren A LOT. I don’t think they minded me being there, I basically took up permanent residence in Y/N’s spare bedroom. Y/N and I actually wrote a lot of songs during those days and we both got into surfing. And the LA surf scene was something else but I was itching for the road and they were too. So when the call came in from Graham we were all ready to leave.

Y/N: We got together in The Rainbow and that’s where everyone just started to talk about everything and what parts they wanted to play. I mean I was already writing my bass lines so I was fine in that department. Warren and I mostly stayed out of the conversation, just smoking and making little jokes.

Graham: I think this was one of the only times that Y/N was completely silent around Billy. I mean Warren and her had always been pretty independent but they seemed like they were in their own little world. Well that was at least until Eddie stepped in.

“Look I don’t want us to turn into some kind of pop group dynamic.”

“You know what I agree with Eddie.”

“Oh so you’re finally going to talk.”

“What the hell?! I didn’t have anything to contribute and was making it easier for you and now you’re getting mad at me for actually pitching in?”

Billy: Y/N and Eddie hated me. I don’t know what I ever did to them but they got on my nerves constantly.

Daisy: Y/N was a spitfire. Eddie and her kind of had this team dynamic that was based on ganging up on Billy. Not that he didn’t deserve it but there was always underlying tension.

Y/N: I never hated Billy. He just wasn’t someone I particularly liked. He thought the world revolved around him and he loved trying to be the boss. He never once listened to my ideas, even if I had been there from basically the beginning. Eddie and I were just getting fed up.

“Okay, everyone just calm down. Billy, Eddie does have a point.” Teddy Price was always the peacemaker in these things. You scoffed and leaned in closer to Warren who had taken to rubbing circles on your arm to calm you.

Y/N: We walked out of there with a new name: Daisy Jones & The Six. I guess you can call that the beginning of the end. While Daisy and Billy went off to compose, the rest of us worked on Aurora together. By the time we were going to play it for Billy I think it sounded pretty incredible but… he hated it. You could see the revulsion on his face but Teddy convinced him to keep it. Oh but Daisy loved it! I knew I liked her for a reason.

Warren: Daisy got on really well with Y/N and I during the entire time we made Aurora. We had that easy way of suggesting things for each other and giving feedback that we all followed.

Daisy: I wish I had a relationship like those two. They respected the other person in a way I had never seen before and they were so hopelessly in love with each other. I knew it was only a short time before they would get married. I was honestly jealous of what they had.

Y/N: I never went to one of Daisy’s infamous parties. Not because I didn’t want to but because I was happier. Which sounds really fucked up cause everyone else wasn’t doing that great around that time. I think the fact that I stopped taking drugs helped A LOT. Warren and I were enjoying life so you know we obviously took the next step. We got married.

Warren: We didn’t tell anyone we were getting married. And no one really knew until the band broke up.

Y/N: We got married in a little chapel on this hill near Long Beach. I refused to do a Vegas wedding even if we were eloping.

Warren: She was insanely beautiful that day. We both showed up in pretty casual wedding clothes.

Y/N: I was wearing a long sleeve all-white prairie dress that I had bought the day we decided to do it. It wasn’t my style at all.

Warren: We spent our honeymoon at our little house. And we didn’t answer the phone for like a solid four days. Good times.

Y/N: The band was freaking out by the time we came back to rehearsals on thursday. They thought we died or something.

Eddie: We thought they went on some kind of bender or disappeared into the horizon with Warren’s boat but no they arrived on thursday with these huge smiles and a new car.

Y/N: We extended the honeymoon after the band broke up. We went to Hawaii with Warren’s boat. I don’t think that was safe but we did it anyway.

Warren: Oh, the car. Did Eddie mention that? Yeah we put some of our money together and bought an Aston Martin. You know the James Bond car.

Y/N: We had some money left over from royalties and stuff so when we pooled it we had just enough to buy that car and start putting some more of it into retirement.

Warren: We still have that car. And we still live in that same house. And Y/N hasn’t made me sell the boat yet so we’re doing pretty good.

Interviewer: So how did the band react to you two getting married?

Y/N: Well, I told Eddie first. He obviously reacted as expected.

Eddie: I was happy for her but mad that she didn’t let me be at the wedding. Y/N made up for it though when she allowed me to officiate their vow renewal.

Graham: I found out a few weeks after the band broke up. I was obviously not doing well after all the Karen drama. But I went up to their house to see them and when I walked inside I saw the rings on their fingers and the rest is history. I got to be Warren’s best man at the vow renewal, I mean it was my entire genius that got them dating in the first place, it was the least they could do.

Karen: I knew when I met up with Y/N and Camila for drinks. She showed us the ring and honestly we were both very shocked.

Camila: I didn’t think she would go through with it but wow I couldn’t imagine a better match. When she asked us to be maids of honor for her wedding, I obviously accepted.

Daisy: I didn’t go to the vow renewal. Being around Billy was going to be a trigger and I knew that. But I still meet up with them a lot. Their kids love being around mine.

Billy: Yeah I was happy for them, sure. Camila told me after they went out for dinner I think.

Y/N and Warren Rojas live in that small house on the coast of LA with their three kids, Lily, Vivienne (Viv for short) and Javier. Y/N went on to be the bassist for many well-known artists like Kate Bush, Billy Idol and even worked with members of the Beatles. They are currently celebrating their 20 year anniversary, which was marked by a vow renewal a few months ago.

this is very much self indulgent - i will be writing a bunch of angst next so prepare yourselves.

taglist: @pinkdaiisies @yesshewrites1 @lisbeth122605

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themissinghand · 5 months

Note

Hello beautiful I hope you’re doing well! If your requests for dr.stone are still on hold then please ignore this message!

if not then can I request the five wise commanders with a s/o who tries to impress them by learning the stuff they are interested in. (Examples can be like Ryusui’s s/o tried to learn about boats or Chrome’s s/o tries to learn about rocks and tells them the stuff they learned.) Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a good one!😁

Dr. Stone: Painting with Two Hands

Summary: In which the Five Wise Commanders get blown away by your knowledge in their passion.

Or you want to show them that you are someone they can rely on too.

Pairing: Five Wise Commanders (Senku, Chrome, Gen, Ryusui, and Ukyo) x GN! Reader!

Note: Thanks for the request and your patience! This turned out super fluffy and I love it! Each scenario takes place in a different time/place.

Warning: None.

★・・・・・・★

The Art of Science

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“A lab coat.” Senku looked at you incredulously, with one brow raised and his other hand shaking a glass beaker.

“Okay, how the heck did you even get that-“

“Yuzuriha.” Right.

“And why are you wearing it exactly?”

“Because I look good in it and…”

"I've been studying chemistry," You declared, revealing a notebook filled with meticulously recorded observations.

When you hand him the said notebook, you watch his skepticism turn into fascination.

“Kukuku, I’m impressed, it’s right. You wrote down the formulas for everything. Where and when did you get this?”

“See, I actually listened to all of your scientific rants. I thought they were interesting and super helpful, so I wanted to learn.”

Senku blinked, slightly surprised that you had put in the effort to take notes, listen and learn.

“I thought that we could experiment together."

For a moment, he was silent, but then his lips quirk up into a smirk, and he flicked your forehead.

“Alright, what are you waiting for? Come help me then. Show me what you learned.”

“Wait.” Senku was twirled around and handed a lab coat too.

“I got one for you too.” Dumbfounded, Senku didn’t move until you sighed and helped him put it on. Before you went to fix his collar, he came to his senses.

“I can do it myself.” He quickly turned away from you and put it on properly.

"You look good short king."

You had a smug expression on your face.

"Shut up."

You swear he has a little tint of pink on his cheeks, but you decided to not mention it.

“Come on, we got a lot of work to do.” He extended a hand, and you accepted it as if it was the norm.

“I know Einstein.”

The Art of Exploration

“Chrome! Look at what I found!”

“Be careful (Y/N)! Don’t fall down!”

Chrome ran after you as you skipped ahead and jumped into a flowing river.

“(Y/N)!” Chrome was always worried about your safety and well-being, despite the many times where you proved where you were just as strong as him.

“Don’t worry Chrome, it’s not like it’s my first time out with you! Besides, look, I found this cool-looking thing in the water!”

In your hands was an oddly shaped rock, and while the two of you inspected it, neither of you knew what it was. Until you cleaned it a bit more in the river.

A golden exterior shone through its surface.

Almost immediately, you screamed out in excitement.

“Gold! It’s the thing that Senku was looking for right?” Even Chrome was shocked at your luck, before hugging you from behind.

Even though you both were slightly dirty from running away and exploring all day, neither of you minded.

“It’s gold! Amazing! How did you find that so easily?” Chrome was genuinely curious. After all, from his perspective, he simply saw you jump into a river, bend down, and pick up a random rock.

“Um…it’s kind of embarrassing but…” Chrome cocked a head at your hesitation before you blurted out.

“I’VE BEEN LEARNING ABOUT ROCKS!” It was so loud that the world shook around you both.

"because...I want to go with you more when you explore..." Your voice became quieter and quieter, while you fidgetted with your hand.

Chrome watched your face lit up, before you quickly turn around and make a run for it.

“Wait (Y/N)! That’s so cool! Come back!”

Chrome chased you with a giant grin on his face.

He can’t wait to see what you learned, and how, when the two of you go back to his workshop.

Chrome also can’t wait to brag to everyone (especially Senku) how great you are.

The Art of Communication

“Raise.”

“I’ll play with you Genie, call.” The click of chips being pushed to the center. Gen(ie) winked at you.

Genie was nickname for your little boyfriend, why? Well, man can read minds (probably).

The cards are slowly being flipped over as spectators make their own guesses.

“All-in!” Gen pushed up his sunglasses dramatically (as if he was in an anime) and smirked as he turned to you.

“Sorry dear (Y/N), this is my game.”

You stayed silent for a moment, observing Gen from head to toe.

But Gen of course, remains calm, and confident in his hand.

“All-in.”

Gen raises his sunglasses in slight surprise at your bet.

“Dear (Y/N), are you sure?” Gen was slightly worried, after all, you tend to be more on the conservative side when it comes to gambling. He slides his hand over to you, and you put yours on top of his.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” You returned his look with a forced smile. Gen whistled, surprised at your sudden bold action.

“Okay, I’m going to flip the last card.” Kohaku flips and the room goes silent.

Then he saw a smirk rose to your lips, and felt your hand intertwin with his.

“You owe me babe.” You hold up his hand while his jaw dropped to the ground.

This was the first you had ever won against him in gambling.

“Finally someone gave Gen a taste of his own medicine.” Ukyo rolled his eyes before snickering.

“Wha-how did you-”

"I thought I'd learn from the best.” You winked and stole his sunglasses, making your beloved stutter even more.

“After all, the mind is the most fascinating puzzle, and yours is the most intriguing of them all." You put on his sunglasses with a smug smirk.

“Damn, that was cringe.” Senku commented, which received a nudge from Yuzuriha.

Gen eventually recovered and chuckled, bringing your hand to his lips.

“Oh dear (Y/N), are you playing mind tricks with me now?”

“Of course not dear~ I still have much to learn~”

(Senku of course, fake gagged behind the scenes, but that never stopped you and Gen from doing anything, has it?)

The Art of Navigation

Under the starlit sky, both you and Ryusui stood on the deck of the Perseus, his eyes scanning the horizon.

It was at times like these where your boyfriend was finally quiet, appreciating the tranquility, and the ambience as you two were on a date. Delicious food and wine made by Francois, while listening to the waves rock against the ship, and the laughter from others inside.

Of course, Ryusui is the one to break that silence when he notices the seas changing.

“My love, a storm is coming.” He suddenly stands up, “Francois, follow me after you clean up.”

“Yes sir.” Francois, elegant and efficient as always, quickly retreated with the food.

“Ay ay Captain.” Your little salute made his loosen up just a little, before he held your hand, and pulled you inside as if he was guiding you in a waltz.

Ambitious, confident, and charismatic, that was your love, Ryusui.

As expected, he took the helm immediately, and an excited grin rose to his face as he looked far into the distance with thunderous clouds.

“Love, can you tell them all to get ready!? We need all hands on deck!”

“On it captain!”

With a laugh, you began warning everyone through the speakers, and chaos followed as everyone scrambled to get on desk.

Surprisingly, Ryusui watched you give commands almost effortlessly and matching his pace.

“Furl the sails!”

“We’re going to change courses!”

“Make sure to hold to the ship!”

“Love, you’re perfect.” Ryusui thanks you while he spins the wheel.

“Drop the anchors!”

Then you turn around and slide beside him.

“Love, let me help you - it’s that way - where we have to go right?”

“A little bit more to the left, but love, I see you’ve been learnING-” The ship’s center of gravity suddenly shifts, causing you to lean on Ryusui as you grab onto the wheel for your deer life.

“I love it! The desire to learn is always so endearing!”

“Oh stop it~ All I did was read some maps and books!”

“Hey Captain! Can you stop flirting and steer the ship properly!?” The others yelled while panicking on deck, and with a laugh, both of you steered the ship to safety.

"One more time?" He proposed, and you agreed, much to the displeasure of your crewmates.

The Art of Archery

Sometimes, the kids are loud.

As such, Ukyo and his companion often found solace in the tranquility of the forest. Sometimes they would take long walks, talk about various topics they would not share in front of children, and enjoy the silence once in a while away from the chaos of someone known as Senku.

But one day, you asked Ukyo to learn archery.

Naturally, Ukyo was elated to teach you, after all, it was a way for you to protect yourself.

It began with Ukyo making a bow for you, then arm guard, and even received gloves from Yuzuriha. He wanted to make sure you had the best of equipment he could get, and that you were safe at all times.

The first few training sessions began with Ukyo standing behind you, guiding you with a calm, mellow voice, and helping you with aim.

But soon, you both practiced archery side by side, the twang of bowstrings harmonizing with the rustling leaves.

"Your aim is getting better," Ukyo praised, a smile gracing his lips as he applauded you.

“Thanks, it all because of your help Ukyo.” You gave him a little hug which he returned.

“I’m proud of you.”

“Can I come and hunt with you now?” For a moment he hesitated, but after seeing your adorable puppy eyes, he caved in within a heartbeat.

“Okay, but safety first ok?”

“Mhmm. I know.”

You gave him a peck on the cheek, before he returned one too.

LIttle did you know, not only were your arrows hitting the bulls-eye, they went through Ukyo’s heart too.

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astaroth1357 · 1 year

Text

My Incredibly Spoiler Heavy Thoughts on Nightbringer

TURN BACK IF YOU HAVE ANY INTEREST IN PLAYING THE GAME AT ALL. I MEAN IT.

Hello. I have completed all 10 lessons on the Normal difficulty. These are my thoughts:

First, a disclaimer. All of this is my opinion. If you feel differently about a character or plot point, that's fine. This is all just as I see it.

Holy hell, I love the setup here so damn much. The Nightbringer story so far is truly more than just a rehash of the OG plot, largely because of all the small stuff that keeps happening in background. Yes, we're befriending the brothers again, but we don't know WHY. Why are we in the past? Who sent us there? What do they want from us, or... what do they want out of somebody else?? 👀 I have to hand it to the writers for coming up with this premise, it's soild. Will they stick the landing...? We'll see.

The New! (Old) Cast

Lucifer:

Whelp, Luci is being colder to us than ever... But far more openly involved with his brothers than we saw previously. You can really tell that this is fresh off of the War and he's just trying his best to keep everybody corralled and (somewhat) comfortable.

He still holds onto his Celestial Realm prejudice against demons, so he doesn't trust MC at all which is an interesting turn on the dynamic from before. As a human, Lucifer saw us as weak and insignificant so he didn't give us much time of day. But as a "demon," and someone more knowledgeable about the Devildom than himself, he has to suck it up and rely on MC even if he wants them to stay away.

By the end of Lesson 10, it's safe to say whatever trust he had in MC is going to be shattered. MC has talked their way out of a lot, but even Dia looks shaken by their abilities this time... I'm curious to see if they can reestablish a relationship with him when he was already keeping them at arms length to start with.

Mammon:

Ah, Mammon... Once simp, forever a simp across time and space. Bless him. I guess he's just doomed to always fall first when it comes to MC. It DOES NOT take long for him to be down bad even if you don't romance him specifically (I would know because I'm trying to stay mono-Levi this go around).

Aside from his tsundere-ness, though, we do get a look into more of his insecurities. I find an interesting pattern developing in him where he just tends to latch onto a person and follow them unfailing. He did that with Lucifer before the Fall, he didn't even think about the consequences before going through with it. You could see him doing much the same with MC. I think it stems from a lack of confidence in himself and his own abilities, constantly relying on others to guide him through big decisions and provide him with validation. Add another poor thing to the list...

Leviathan:

I swear to God, the devs realized that Levi's charm lies in his pathos, so they went out of the way to make him EVEN MORE pathetic than normal. I still love him for it, of course. But seriously, Levi starts out practically afraid of his own shadow when the story starts. It makes sense, Levi would have probably one of the more negative impressions of demons of the seven, having fought them head on. He was a shut in before the War and now he's even more terrified to leave the house, let alone his room... (I can't be the only one who's wondering how the hell Dia's going to look at him and go, "Ah yes! I see Admiral material right there!" right?)

I do like that the writers took the time to show that he's one of the more empathetic brothers, right alongside Asmo and Beel, even if he's bad with people. Levi is quick to sympathize with beings and creatures who don't fit in and it's always very sweet to see. I also guess that Simeon wrote TSL in secret or after the War? You think he would know of it at least having lived so long with the author... Anyway. I digress.

There's a lot of... small things around Levi that I think hint at the inner feelings of the brothers, though (of all seven of them, he has the WORST poker face I swear). I may touch on those in another post because I need time to gather my thoughts on how it all connects there... Anyway, he's still my favorite and I'm going to try to see if there's any truth to this "you get a deeper connection if you stick to one brother" thing. Wish me luck.

Satan:

Okay, load your guns now because I think Satan is the real star of the show here. They're actually pulling way more than the "He's mad because he's seen like Lucifer" card. We're at a point where Satan doesn't even consider himself associated with the brothers AT ALL. That means something and has consequences on the story. He didn't even go with them to check on Beel, despite having enough fire power that he could have probably helped a lot.

Now before someone goes screaming at me that they've devolved him into comic relief, I'd first like to ask what did you think he was going to be? OG Satan told us himself that he used to feel nothing but anger. He's going to be pissed, irrational, and violent. He's Wrath.

What truly they're giving us under all of that is a look into a vulnerable guy who doesn't know anything about the world around him and is trying to pick it up on his own because his brothers can't (and maybe won't) teach him. They keep chaining him up (which I hate btw) and talk about him like he's a beast. But it's partially because they're such terrible communicators that he flies off the handle so often to begin with.

Satan is more alone than really anybody else is the Devildom. His brothers already have all this history together and memories shared during their time as angels, stuff he has no context for and could never experience himself. He's still an outcast among demons for his association with them, despite being a fully fledged demon in his own right, and he doesn't know why he has to be linked to them because he barely knows them anyway. He's taking baby steps to understand the world, but when he goes to his brothers to ask questions they lampshade him for even having clear thoughts. All they see him as is a roaring beast. This version of Satan is fascinating to me. How does he start here and end up the eloquent, emotionally-controlled bookworm with a planet's worth of connections? I gotta know!!

Asmodeus:

They FINALLY started giving Asmo his proper flowers! I still think it could have been more, but he's gotten way more depth than he had before. I know that Asmo part technically involved MC's input the least out of all of the brothers, but I think that was by design.

Asmo is a surprisingly introspective individual under his urge to perform. MC didn't have to give much input because he just didn't need as much. He knows himself very well (unlike some of the others). He's an emotionally intelligent guy who can sort out his own inner problems and remain empathetic enough to want to help his brothers in his own way. I wanted to hear more from this side of Asmo, honestly, but the game seems to make it clear that he's content with his spot of being the family's brightest smile. I hope it makes more appearances as we go on.

Beelzebub:

This one is tricky, because lesson 10 leaves off on a cliffhanger related to Beel... So I think Beel's feelings will have more consequences than the other brothers' on the story. Most of all that we see of Beel is, unfortunately, him being hungry or off being wholesome with Belphie but lesson 10 did give us some eye-openers regardless.

First, apparently if he flies off the handle, Beel is quite the challenge to handle. It takes Dia himself to restrain him, which is pretty insane for the sixthborn in the line-up. It's possible some outside magic is cranking up his power somehow, but we won't know until the next lessons are out.

Secondly, I find it very interesting that Beel's "heart-to-heart" moment with us is being saved for last... It was definitely the most surprising one of the secrets in the teasers (in my opinion). Beel and Belphie are glued to the hip and share everything together so for him to have a secret "not even Belphie" knows is pretty shocking. I hope it's not just that he saved Belphie instead of Lilith since we all already know that. It'd be a pretty cheap pay off to all this buildup... Not that I haven't been disappointed before or anything.

Belphegor:

Similar to Beel, Belphie doesn't get much attention until the end and it isn't much that we haven't heard before, unfortunately. You kind can't blame them, since plumbing out Belphie's inner trauma about the War was the entire climax of the first game. It's nothing we don't already know. That being said, I think there's some more interesting things that are being said about Belphie or left unsaid by the others that I find more fascinating to keep track of.

TLDR, I think there's some weird distancing going on between Belphie and the others. It doesn't seem super apparent, but Levi dropped some weird bombshells early on and I can't help but notice how he just never seems to be without Beel. Those two are close, yeah, but in this game they're practically a unit. I'm pretty sure Belphie is using Beel as a security blanket of sorts. He's also the ONLY one to mention Lilith in any great detail. Unsurprising, but it's worth noting that the others haven't really brought her up despite it (supposedly) starting the War.

Diavolo:

Somebody give this guy a vacation and a raise... So apparently, the brothers were cast down, the old King took one look at them and counted to seven, then conked out. Now our boy has to rule the kingdom. He's... the same really. As far as I can tell. You can really see how much he's taken to the brothers' antics though, which checks out in the other game too.

WAAAY more fascinating to me is apparently there's some kind of body called the House of Lords who think that Dia is too young for the job. What's the House of Lords?? Who are they? Are they like a council or advisory board...? Or is this a UK setup? Is there a Parliamentary board?? I dunno, could just be my Poli Sci talking but I'm now so lost on how the Devildom operates now...

Barbatos:

Oh my God, if there is any character I could live vicariously through, it was Barbs here. For whatever unnamed reason he is NOT having any of Solomon's shit right now and I'm living for it. Setting my delight aside, we don't get to see very much of him and what we do see doesn't really differ from the norm, which only makes his detest all the more shocking.

Through Barbs, we also see just how potent the power of the pacts can be when Solomon summons him and more or less forces him to do as he says. Nothing seems to stop him from retaliating after the fact, as he sent Solomon off who knows where, but seeing that kind of power wielded over a being who's almost unattainable to us is... Well. I feel bad for Asmo.

Simeon:

There's a lot to unpack with Simeon... and a lot of it is in the stuff that goes unsaid. First, I already found it strange that he didn't seem surprised to see Satan in the House. Or if he was, he didn't say it or bother introducing himself which is... telling for a guy like Simeon. He's back to being Luke's minder in front of demons, but I can't help but notice that he doesn't do much to counter Luke's tirades. He only indicates that it's impolite to say them, so he may still harbor the very same feelings.

Simeon and Lucifer have something of a heart to heart together that they never would in the OG title where Simeon admits his biggest regret. It isn't that he didn't follow Lucifer, as we might think, but that he doesn't feel like did enough to reach out to him before he made his decision. Lucifer dispells this, but I think it goes to show that Simeon stands behind his decision to stay and that it was the better option. Lucifer also confront Simeon on why he didn't take a high position (seraph) and instead settled for archangel. It's left open ended what his real motives for that would be, but I suspect that it has something to do with Simeon's troubling streak of going against the grain, even in subtle ways. Or he has too much anger about what happened to accept taking Lucifer's old position.

I found it interesting how easily these two seemed to talk about intimate topics together here where Lucifer barely even acknowledges Simeon's attempts to reach out in the OG story. I wonder what may have happened to sour their relationship so severely...?

Luke:

Luke the Racist Chihuahua returns!! Okay, I'm being a little mean but he's pretty much just self-righteous little kid the whole way through. I will admit, it is a little funny that the person who came up with the nickname was actually Lucifer. I think it's now retconned and confirmed that Luke and the brothers never knew each other before the Fall... though Luke seems to know OF their former selves in some capacity. I could be misinterpreting things though.

The Rat Bastard Solomon:

I swear to God this was me playing through the whole game tied to this guy.

He's lying. A lot. Constantly. And it pisses me off to no end. I was wondering why things he was saying and the stuff he was doing weren't lining up and OF COURSE it's because he's either working his own agenda or being outright deceitful. I hate him so much, y'all, you don't even know...

That aside, as an impartial observer Solomon is pulling a lot of work to support MC and you can TELL how down bad he is for them, which actually has significance for the plot I think. He's keeping them in the dark about something, but considering his feelings I say we can at least be charitable and assume it isn't to hurt them or cause them any suffering... intentionally. He's also as unscrupulous as ever, considering how he ordered a very angry Barbs around and more or less took advantage of a life or death situation to make a pact with Asmo.

So. At the end of the lessons, we're reintroduced to the mysterious Nightbringer. The character who actually sent us back in time at the start of the game. Yeah, it wasn't Barbatos... probably. At least not our reliable neighborhood butler anyway. They seem to be different entities but I THINK they might share some connection....

I have to wonder who disguised MC when they first arrived. The marketing made it seem like it would be Solomon but the marketing has been hit or miss on actual accuracy about the game we're seeing. If it was Solomon, then he had to have known where the MC was before he called. If it was Nightbringer then... well actually. We need to touch on that first.

Nightbringer:

Now, much of this is just me speculating so take things with a grain of salt. Nightbringer's name is blocked out, but it seems like it identified itself to us in the beginning before sending us to the past. It appears like it wants something from Solomon.... to fully corrupt him maybe? And it's using MC as leverage against him.

I suspect that all of the weird stuff that has been happening is tied to its meddling in some way, but to what end is unclear... Sending Levi and MC into TSL, tricking Asmo then trying to feed everyone to a spider, and, likely, whatever is going on with Beel. I can't tell if it's trying to push MC and the brother's closer together, or just making vaguely comical attempts at homicide by fictional characters, spider, and Gluttony incarnate.

The situation with Adam does give us a hint into its nature. It appears to be some kind of dark, trickster being that gives a person what they desire, but never the way they intended. A walking monkey's paw, if you will. Solomon says that Nightbringer made him what he is today, so perhaps he worked under it or is simply under the influence of one its "deals." Their relationship is adversarial, though. When they're speaking, they talk about the two supernatural sides, Angel and Demon, and Nightbringer seems to want to force Solomon to make a choice between them. Lose his humanity, maybe?

I'm not quite willing to say that Nightbringer is a demon just yet, at least not one of the ones we normally encounter. Something about it seems... older. More powerful than that. But we'll have to wait for more info.

My crackpot theory?

Solomon has made a deal with Nightbringer in order to go back in time and do... something. He's after something. Nightbringer agreed, but dragged MC along as collateral for Solomon to get it done within a certain amount of time or makes sure he honors his part of the bargin. Barbatos knows this, either because he is linked to in some way to Nightbringer or saw it happen in the doorway, and is disgusted by his actions but unable to speak about it due to the pact. Or, you know. That's our present Barbie also dragged along for the ride and he's pissed that he's been essentially hijacked and taken away from present Diavolo, but forbidden to speak about it.

#i may do ONE LAST analysis post #over my speculation #and just weird stuff I saw #but after that #it’s back to the normal content #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me nightbringer #obey me analysis #obey me nightbringer analysis #om spoilers #omn spoilers #obey me spoliers #obey me nb spoilers #obey me nighbringer spoilers

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kentoberry · 2 years

Text

MON CHERI. — toji fushiguro.

ABOUT: toji knows the horrors of the zen'in clan, and offers something a little more than comfort to naoya's wife.

NOTES: naoya is in his early 20s and toji is in his late 20s. set before toji leaves the clan. i wrote a lot of this while spaced out on pain meds so... yeah LOL

CWS: sub fem reader, some canon divergence, cheating, arranged marriage, toxic relationships, breeding, dubcon, impregnation, controlling behaviour (from naoya), hymen breaking, implied v*rginity loss, p*ssy inspection, misogyny, car s*x, fingering, thigh riding, overuse of pet names, slight hand f3tish, spit, choking mention, dirty talk.

well, that’s one way to get back at the zen’in clan.

you’d been betrothed to naoya zen’in before you could even pronounce the word “engagement”, as the elders from your respective clans thought that it would be beneficial in a political sense. you were raised to understand that this was how things must be, and that there was no backing out. it wasn’t until your wedding day that you finally met naoya, having spent your days as a little girl dreaming that as you walked down the aisle, you’d be taking steps towards your prince charming. oh, how wrong you were.

naoya was an absolute asshole from the very beginning. he even instructed the officiant at your wedding to “get this over with” as soon as possible, and barely even made eye contact with you throughout the ceremony. your heart shattered into a billion tiny pieces, but you grinned and beared it. you knew that there was a chance that you’d be stuck in a loveless marriage, and that was now your reality.

the first night that you spent together, your new husband’s first question to you was regarding your abilities to bear a child. not whether or not you wanted one, but rather when you would be able to get pregnant. he wanted to secure an heir, which would thus secure his position in the clan. naoya truly didn’t care about you, his only goal was to breed a baby into your fertile cunt.

hell, he even poked and prodded at your pussy, satisfied only when you winced and a small trail of blood followed. the man hadn’t truly believed that you were a virgin, all modern women were cockhungry whores to him, so he resorted to inspecting your hymen himself. in naoya’s eyes, your body now belonged to him.

fast forward to your six month anniversary. you barely left the estate. naoya ensured that you be stuffed and bred full of his semen every night, the filthiest of names slipping past his lips as he degraded you and berated you for the fact that you weren’t yet carrying his child. you were nothing more than the man’s cumdump, following his every rule down to the detail. at events, he paraded you around as the perfect piece of arm candy, giving every attendee the impression that you were a happily married pair.

it was at one of these events that you’d been introduced to naoya’s cousin, who looked as though he didn’t want to be there anymore than you did. he introduced himself as toji, and wasted no time in talking shit about the clan that you had unknowingly married into. if naoya had cared enough to pay attention to you, he would have dragged you away from the other man. but he didn’t. instead, you spent majority of the evening listening to toji’s stories, promising him that you would do everything in your power to ensure a brighter future for the zen’in clan.

“but ya don’t have any power in y’r relationship, do ya, princess?”

you looked down to mask the heat that spread across your cheeks, such pet names feeling foreign to you. toji knew that he was right, and continued chatting away as he nursed his glass of alcohol.

“naoya’s always been a real piece of work. never fuckin’ treated a woman right in his life. always screamin’ at his maids to do everything for him, firing them if they made the slightest fuck-up. always felt sorry for the poor lass that would end up with ‘im. doubt he’s ever even made ya cum.”

the man took a moment to evaluate your expression, which only confirmed his prior assumption. he took pity on you, really. the rough spoken man knew the atrocities that the zen’ins were capable of, and the scar along his lip was evidence of such. feeling sorry, he resorted to what he knew best, hollering at the bartender for two more drinks, one for each of you.

“i, umm, i can’t drink,” you mumbled.

“don’t tell me he dictates what ya put in your body, darlin’. . .”

“no! no!” your voice was apologetic, as though you’d said something that you shouldn’t have. “it’s not like that; alcohol just isn’t good when you’re trying to conceive…”

toji scoffed. “you want to get knocked up by that man? you insane, princess?”

you sighed in defeat. “he wants a baby, so i need to have one. it’s what i’m supposed to do.”

your face depicted a sight that he knew all to well. toji put an arm over your shoulders slowly so as not to make you jump. he saw the tears that you worked to conceal, hand slowly rubbing your arm in attempt to soothe you.

“let’s get out of here. tell the cunt that you aren’t feeling too well; makes sense to be if he’s tryna put a kid in ya. i’ll take you home, maybe drive around a little if ya want. y’r a sweetheart, don’t let him ruin it, okay?”

you simply nodded, feeling strange that a zen’in was giving you a choice.

“i’ll go grab my jacket, and meet ya by the door. is that alright with you?”

again, you nodded. you smoothed out your outfit, once again putting on a brave face and seeking out your husband. it didn’t take too long to spot the blonde, pushing your way through seas of people to reach him. you kept your hand situated on your lower stomach, hoping that it helped to sell your fake story.

upon approaching him, you called his name though to no avail. it took tugging on his sleeve to finally gain his attention, which resulted in him turning to you with a disdainful expression. “what?” he queried coldly.

you began muttering about how you weren’t feeling too well and were needing to head home, but were cut off by him-

“speak up, woman. you’re wasting my time.”

you did just that, leaning closer to him so that he could hear you better.

“whatever.”

despite being used to naoya’s lack of human emotion, it still hurt. as though your wedding day was a knife being plunged into your stomach, and each insult was your husband twisting the weapon. there was no ‘stay safe, honey!’ or concern regarding how you were getting back to your room, he just liked that he controlled you enough that you felt the desire to inform him of your every move.

you kept your head low as you went to reunite with toji, who leant against the venue’s door frame, fiddling with the keys to his car in hand. mustering up a tiny smile, you greeted your knight in shining armour and headed out with him.

toji was quick to open the passenger side door of his vintage mustang, allowing you to get in with ease. such a simple act of chivalry made your heart flutter in a way that you knew it shouldn’t. the little girl who’d been suppressed inside of you for so long suddenly sprung back to life, making you feel like the raven haired man was your prince charming helping you into your bespoke carriage. you almost felt giddy, a feeling that grew overwhelming to the point that tears began to gather along your waterline.

in the meantime, toji had started the car’s engine and was ready to pull out of the parking lot of empty cars. he checked on his fuel gauge before looking over to you.

his drawled “everything alright, darlin’?” was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. you began spilling your guts to the borderline stranger, detailing how unhappy your marriage to naoya made you and all of the shit that he put you through.

toji turned off the car, pulling your weeping form into his chest as he hushed you. he was a man of few words in that moment, instead doing his best to provide the comfort to you that had been absent during his own experiences with the harshness of the zen’in clan.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured, “it’s not your fault.”

you could have sworn the man was struggling to hold back his own tears as you finally looked up at him, though before you could fully discern his emotions, he placed a tender kiss to your forehead, mumbling that you didn’t deserve to be put through such trials and tribulations. you seemed a sweet soul.

the kiss, albeit innocent, flustered you. it was laced with a gentleness that you had never experienced. naoya was the only man that you had ever been intimate with, and he’d been the furthest from benevolent that one could be. it made you forget the ring on your left hand, instinctively tilting your chin up and pulling toji in for another kiss.

he hadn’t expected to feel your lips against his own. the smell of your expensive perfume overwhelmed him, feeling intoxicated by your touch. he wasted no time in deepening the kiss, grabbing your hips and encouraging you to straddle him in the driver’s seat.

upon pulling away for a brief moment to catch his breath, toji informed you of the tinted windows, promising that nobody would see whatever you both found yourselves getting up to.

with hair and makeup a mess, you found yourself grinding against his thigh in an attempt for some friction. the way that the hem of your dress had splayed over toji's lap meant that your cunt bordered on bare because of the sheer black lace that naoya ordered you wear. the material covering your slit was thin, the perfect opportunity for your husband to tear in two when he got impatient with the preparations required before fucking you.

there was an obvious wet patch soaking its way through the fabric, something that toji noticed after swiping two fingers against your clothed pussy.

"she's already drippin', doll," he growled, voice having dropped another octave. he slipped your panties aside, traipsing his digits along your dampened folds. afterwards, he placed his slick coated fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you on his hand. "shit, darlin', y'r fuckin' heavenly."

before you could even make a sound, toji pulled you in for another kiss. you could taste the faint remnants of your arousal on his taste buds, making a move to pull back that would have been successful if not for his hand pressing against the back of your head, keeping you in place.

“sweetheart,” he grumbled, hot breath fanning the sensitive skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “sure about this?”

you were quick to utter the affirmative, shortly followed by whimpering at the loss of contact as toji lifted you back into the passenger’s seat. he chuckled at the reaction, feeling lucky to have elicited such a reaction from you. switching the engine back on, the man began speeding out of the lot.

you were certain that you couldn’t wait a moment longer. perhaps it was the idea of doing something so taboo mixed with the anticipation that being with toji had already generated. your hand slipped underneath your dress, hiking the material up your thighs as you caressed the tender skin. your breath caught in your throat as your fingers ghosted over your clothed clit, whining at the sensation.

“can’t even wait f’me, princess?” toji smirked. instead of chiding you for such brattiness, he chose to indulge you, even moving his hand from the gearstick to peel away your underwear.

you could have sworn you heard him moan at the sight of your glistening cunt, not even caring that your arousal seeped onto his fine leather upholstery. all whilst keeping his composure with driving, he slipped a finger into your weeping folds and began to fuck you. in response, you simply gripped his arm. he took it as a sign that you were enjoying this, deciding upon adding another digit to your hole. with ease, he located the rough spot that made your toes curl, massaging circles into it as he began to stretch your pretty cunt open. with the way that you were practically creaming on his hand, he could truly tell how your husband had been neglecting your needs and desires.

as toji came into contact with a red light, he took a moment to halt the car and immediately provided you with his undivided attention. his first action was to roughly spit onto your pussy, using his thumb to spread his saliva and make a mess of your cunt. as possessive as it may seem, he wanted to taint your body in all the lewd ways that he could think of. you deserved to be his princess, not naoya’s pathetic little cumdump.

“play with y’r clit, doll,” he instructed, and you did just that. nay, you went above and beyond his instructions. you released his arm and began groping at your tits, allowing for them to spill over the neckline of your dress for better access. you played with your stiffening nipples, tweaking and tugging as your other hand made a beeline for your swollen clit, the pads of your fingers becoming coated in the concoction of your slick and toji’s spit.

toji briefly palmed the growing bulge in his pants before placing his hand back on the steering wheel. when he had to remove his hand from your cunt in order to shift gears, you considered teasing him about not driving something automatic in this day and age but were instead distracted by how fucking attractive his veiny hand looked wrapped around the piece of machinery. it only turned you on even more when you saw the shimmering of your arousal still coating his middle and ring finger. you couldn’t help but wonder how his hand would feel wrapped around your throat.

when he could spare a hand once again, toji’s fingers plunged back into your hole. due to the fact that you’d been brutally toying with your clit whilst indulging in such salacious ideas of the man, he could feel your walls flutter around him, indicating that you were likely close to an orgasm.

toji didn’t alter the speed of his movements, instead he resorted to using his words to attempt to tip you over the edge.

“‘s it, gonna cum all over my car, pretty thing? can’t even wait f’r my cock? bet you’re thinkin’ about me, aren’t ya, darlin’? want me to ruin ya, fuck ya like you wish that no good piece of shit you call a husband can’t. when we get home, i don’t think i’ll be satisfied ‘til i’ve destroyed that pretty little pussy on every fuckin’ surface i got. you’d like that, wouldn’t ya? cunt feels so good, can’t wait until my fat cock is buried deep in her, stretching the poor girl out until she’s creamin’ f’me.”

his words went straight to your core, though it was one final sentence that really tipped you over the edge.

“maybe i’ll do what he never could ‘nd put a baby in ya, princess,”

#🍑 ૮ • ﻌ • ა #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #naoya x reader #naoya zen'in x reader #naoya smut #naoya zenin smut #tojisluvrposts

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euaphoric · 9 months

Text

lust.

✩‧₊˚ pairing — jungkook x f!reader, strangers to ??? (wtv they got going on in this dynamic)

✩‧₊˚ warnings — i was planning to make this way happier but i was in a sad mood so im sorry if it’s a little angsty? some fluff ig, sm*t, mentions of alcohol & smoking (cigs), dom!jk & sub!reader, hookup culture, slight corruption? oc cries a lot, spanking, ch*king, just a lot of freeky stuff, koo is a little mean in this oops

words: 3.2k // literally the longest thing i’ve wrote so far. also irdk what this is but i just kept going and couldn’t stop, kinda feels rushed toward the end cause i just wanted to get to the freaky parts sfsfjgs i’m sawry y’all

it happened 2 years ago, yet the memories of that fateful day still carry on with you as if it were yesterday. vibrant recollections of those slender, jewelled hands clasped around your neck as you cry out for him, body subconsciously submitting to all of him - breaking every barrier you’ve built up within. of all your years of existence, that night was the only time you’ve felt truly alive, shedding every ounce of innocence away in one night for a man whose name you didn’t even know.

do you regret losing your virginity to someone who only saw you as a temporary plaything? partly yes and partly no. you were conflicted on the fact you never exchanged info after he left but other than that, nothing regrettable came out of it. the only issue was that he’s set your standards far into oblivion, you’ve yet to find a lay as memorable as he was. it’s not as though you haven’t tried getting over it in the past - you’ve been desperately wishing to forget. suppressing your inner desires with all kinds of self pleasure methods; even going so far as to banging other hot strangers you meet from the bars/club - but even then, you couldn’t replicate how you felt with him and you still couldn’t reach your climax without thinking of your first time.

you catch yourself daydreaming of him daily. the raspy tone of his voice, the intoxicating scent of expensive cologne, the fluorescent, animated ink that adorned his arm along with a silver pierced lip and eyebrow, his sublime sense of style. everything you could’ve ever wanted, slipped away from your grasp forever. that was, until you were met face to face with him again - a total of 882 days later (yes you did the math). you went bar hopping downtown with all your girl friends, looking for an eventful weekend. little did you know you’d be running into him again, the nameless man that gave you a night to remember. you were definitely the first to notice him, it felt quite peculiar but as soon as you walked in you got struck with a weird deja vu moment. it all felt so familiar to you, even down to the symphonic melodies of jazz music playing in the distance, everything brought you back to that gloomy autumn night.

you’d try your dearest not to stare but your mind was not complying with any rationality, one look at his broad physique and it was endgame for all your sanity. it didn’t help that your body went inert, lost in a trance of him indefinitely, wanting nothing more than to worship him and give in to his every need. you reminisce about him telling you how much of a good girl you were for taking all of it, sucking on his fingers as you completely come undone underneath him. he left you begging for more that night, crying and pleading for at least a goodbye kiss - which you never got the pleasure of getting. “i told you this was a one time thing only.. besides, i’m leaving the city tomorrow for good so you’ll probably never see me again. it’s for the best anyway.”

his cold last words left more than a lasting impression on you. it sent you into an endless spiral of overthinking, analyzing any and everything you could’ve done wrong. did that night really mean absolutely nothing to him at all? all the countless times you’d touch yourself to vivid recounts of his face pressed into your thigh, plastering wet kisses all over them and sucking on your bruised skin. he’d spank each thigh one by one as a punishment, proudly smirking at the way you’d wince out in pain mixed with so much pleasure. he thrived off the idea that he was the first to corrupt you like this, a girl he hasn’t even known for a span of 24 hours willing to give up just about anything she had to offer. had you shamelessly wrapped around his finger like an brainless puppet.

you still don’t understand how someone can look so divine, even when doing nothing but just standing. you watch as he sips Viognier out of an oversized wine glass, gazing at the crowd, ruffling his fingers through his hair from time to time. then it became unreal when you locked eyes with him, catching him stealing a glance when he realizes who you were. you look almost exactly the same as you did a few years ago, the only part that’s different about you now is the recent butterfly tattoo you got on your lower back. that’ll be a pleasant surprise for him to find out. his eyes never drifted once they landed on you, he was in just as much shock as you were - maybe more. he’d made an internal promise to himself to keep you as a forever one time fling - nothing more just that, but if fate wasn’t real then why would the universe send you back into each other’s lives?

no, not a romantic kind of fate. the fate you get when someone you’ve mindlessly lusted over for ages has finally found its way to you again. a fate that doesn’t occur by chance, or coincidence, it was pure destiny awaiting to happen.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

“wow, you haven’t changed at all have you?” he says nonchalantly, acting as if you were an old friend he was catching up with. you weren’t sure how to respond, the surrealism of the moment brought you everywhere but reality. all you really could do was blink, fluttering your lashes at his towering figure over you. though there was a sea of people in this packed, lively bar, it felt like only you two existed in this confined space. he tried striking up the usual basic conversation with the typical, how’re your studies going? work’s been treating you well? anything exciting happen in your life recently? you gave as much of a vague answer as you could, barely putting any thought or effort, you were only giving him the same treatment that he gave back then. he would often come off as bored or condescending at times, it felt good to take back just the little bit of power you upheld.

you quietly observe as he orders another drink, two actually, not even bothering to ask what you wanted. he hands you a glass with a salted rim, the clear liquid made you believe it was either vodka or tequila, either way you gulped it down in no time and squeeze the lime on the side as chaser. you didn’t have much to drink but his presence alone was already enough to make you feel tipsy. “i thought you said you were never coming back to the city?” you blurt out, instantly scolding yourself for bringing up the past this quickly. it was just the undying curiosity of wanting to know the inner depths of him, not the stonewall of a persona he portrays to be. “i don’t know, guess i just felt like visiting. also had some unfinished business to attend to.” there he goes again with those subtle answers, toying with you so easily. his responses have always annoyed you to a certain extent but this feels even more strange for some reason. what’s the “unfinished business” he’s referring to?

“so” he pauses, never actually finishing his thought. “so..” you awkwardly mimic, hoping he’ll spit out whatever the hell he has to say. it took some time before he clears his throat and takes a sip of what seemed like his fiftieth drink tonight. “soo, do you…maybe wanna get out of here?” you’re not sure what’s with the shy act suddenly, he wasn’t this timid when you first met him. it’s like you’re meeting a whole new person. “uhm, sure i guess” you spoke hesitantly, taking his hand as he reaches out for yours. bumping into loads of drunk people while he weaved you through the crowd, it felt like multiple eternities before you’ve found the exit. he lights a cigarette before heading down the vintage spiral staircase, still hand in hand with you. “goddamn… look at your fine ass. still just as sexy as i remember you last time mamas.” he gracefully compliments, walking slightly behind in attempts of getting better sight at the back view of the form fitting dress you wore. his hand left yours in favor of wrapping around your waist. “t-thanks.” you reply sheepishly, hoping that he doesn’t notice how flushed your cheeks are.

before getting in his car, there was one more thing you needed closure with, the one thing that constantly kept you up at night. “i don’t mean to be this straightforward but, i want to know your name. i know this probably sounds really lame and pathetic but it’s been eating me up inside since the day we met and… i just- i think i deserve the right to know is all.” you wanted to scream at your poor delivery, sounding nowhere near as confident as you did in your head. the cigarette was still tucked between his lips, taking another long drag before answering you. “damn, even after all this time i still occupy your mind sweetheart? that’s adorable,” he teases, reveling in on your confession. “but i suppose i can agree with you since i did keep you guessing for so long. it’s only fair you should know, right?” that sly little smirk never left his face, he knows exactly how to mess with you. “it’s jungkook. and you are?” ah, so he really does have a name. “y/n.” you mutter, looking down at the pavement. “that’s pretty, i like it. suits you well.” his hand raises yours to his lips, kissing it gently, “nice to formally meet you y/n.” your eyes dart at him reluctantly, hoping your palms weren’t too clammy. “you too, jungkook.” none of this still felt real to you, you wanted to pinch yourself and wake up immediately. “it’s kinda hot the way you say my name.” he casually admits, the grin on his face deepens, “that won’t be the only thing you’ll be screaming at the top of your lungs tonight though.”

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this certainly wasn’t the first (or last) time you found yourself like this. getting severe brush burn from the carpet by being obediently on your knees, swiftly bobbing your head as tears stream down your face, ruining your precious mascara. the only audible sounds were his groans echoing in the room of this giant suite at the four seasons. it gave a sense of familiarity, and oddly enough you found comfort in being in such a compromised situation. especially with him again. “fuck, you’re so pretty,” he grunts, grabbing a fistful of hair, never taking his eyes off you. “look even prettier with my cock stuffed deep in your mouth.” his words sent chills, all you wanted to do was keep pleasing him. your mind goes hazy from the end of his shaft hitting the back of your throat, other than the tears, you showed no outright emotion—you had to endure this, you’ve been praying for this moment since your first ever encounter. big doe eyes look up at him innocently as you suck the soul out of him, all the shiny gloss you wore on your lips now completely transferred onto him - in this perspective, you were utterly perfect.

“shit- you’re so good at this..” he hisses, watching as you kneel beneath him, saliva glistening on your chin as you gag all over his cock. you do the best you can to fit all of him, you did learn from the best after all. you hum against him in response, feeling his cock twitch from the sudden vibrations. if you keep going like this he’s bound to cum for sure, but he doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction - he wants to have all the power and control. “get up.” he spat harshly, if you swirl your tongue around him like that one more time he feels as tho he’s about to combust. the choice of only taking him further in made him even angrier. “did you not fucking hear me? i said get. the. fuck. up.” he pulls your hair tighter to yank your head back, forcing a semi-loud *pop* with your lips as you detach from his cock, swallowing the string of drool from the corner of your mouth. silly you for keep going, you should’ve listened the first time. now your forever fantasy of getting to suck him dry and drink his cum has sadly been cut short... “since you’re so damn greedy for this cock why don’t you go stand up against that window while i fuck you, hm?” your face becomes mortified when you haven’t realized just how big those windows truly were. it took up a quarter of the living room and the curtains were never closed which you also failed to notice. you were at the top floor of this 52 story building but still, you were rightfully nervous out of your mind.

the next thing you knew, your body’s pressed up to the cold glass, his big hands caressing both sides of your waist and trailing kisses to the exposed skin on your back. you watch the faint reflection of him toying with the hem of your mini dress, slowly pulling it up then stopping when he gets to a certain point. “oh.. what’s this here?” he asks, glancing down at your butterfly tattoo, his fingertips lightly brushing over the fresh ink. “guess you aren’t so innocent as i thought you were.” you shook your head, biting your lip when he gropes your ass, “n-never was i-innocent.” you quietly mewl. “oh yeah?” he breaths warmly against your neck, hiking the dress up further. “then be a good little slut for me and don’t speak unless i tell you to.” the palm of his hand slaps your cheek hard enough to leave a visible print, pushing you up against the window more. you were enjoying every single minute of this, you were so elated that you could cry again. you feel his touch down lower, grazing over your folds to feel how wet you are. “shit, you’re already dripping like this just from sucking me off? always knew you were such a filthy whore.” two fingers slid into your heat with ease, pumping them in and out. “nngh~” you moan lowly, “shh, quiet for me doll. wait ‘til i fill you with my cock then you can scream all you want.” when he pulls them out his chest collides with your back, rubbing himself between your folds and bringing his drenched fingers up to your mouth. of course, you open eagerly to suck on his sleek digits, you remember doing this exact thing last time. history truly does repeat itself.

once he fully settles in, the clench of you around him makes his brain all fuzzy, you feel so warm and inviting, could stay like this forever. “fuck.. so fucking tight” he husks, firmly gripping at your waist before he begins moving. first he goes at a normal pace, stuffing you nice and slow with delicate kisses to your shoulders. he soon built up more momentum, thrusting in and out of your soaking cunt as bodies clash together. you arch your back more as he his cock hits your walls deeper, mumbling a bunch of gibberish as he fucks you completely dumb. “what’s that doll? i can’t hear you, speak the fuck up.” he orders sternly, producing another harsh, loud slap to your ass - never letting up on his stamina. “ughh f-fuck! you’re so b-big, feels sso goood.” you whine, feeling nothing but cockdumb at this point. “yeah? you like the way i stretch this pussy out? gonna cream all over my cock just like you did for me last time baby?” his strokes get rougher with each question. “yes…yes.. oh fuck- jungkook! jungkookk!” you chant over and over like you’re casting a spell, the ring of his name slips on your tongue smoother than the pungent liquor you drank earlier. “only i can fuck you as good as this right? have you acting this obedient and submissive? bet you were manifesting this shit all long, just can’t enough of my cock can you?” the questions just won’t stop, and the waterworks soon start up again, you’re not sure how much more you can endure.

“don’t even fucking answer, i already know anyway.” his cockiness really pissed you off but at least he had the evidence to back his arrogance up. his pace grew relentless as he watches himself disappear in you, still gawking over the pretty design of the butterfly. you felt so close - that same knot tied in your stomach like you felt before; you haven’t had this feeling since the very first time, as if only he was the one to unlock this level of passion out of you. “g-gonna cum s-soonn.” you alert him, tasting the faint bitter saltiness from your tears pooling down. a pair of strong hands connect around your neck, wrapping tightly as he rams in harder, making your whole body tremble and shake. “go ahead, do it.” jungkook encourages supportively, “cum with me doll face.” those words were all you needed to hear to let go, screaming out his name and a slew of more curses. you feel your release drip down your leg, mind completely blank from the buzz taking over you. he quickly pulls out, dumping all his white seed onto your back as you whine from being empty again. you could honestly go for another round if he asked you to right now. it was fun while it lasted though, looking over at the skyline view while getting your back blown out - seemed like a literal dream come true.

the aftermath was quiet, you didn’t say much and neither did he, you reverted right back to your shy demeanor. when you cleaned up yourself in the bathroom you grabbed your purse to rummage for your house keys but he stops you mid action. “where’re you going?” that only confuses you more, where else would you be going? “uh, home?” you meekly respond, unsure of his real intentions. “don’t be like that, you can stay the night here.” he suggests, “my plane leaves in the morning though but you can sleep here for as long as you’d like, i’ll book this room for an extra day.” it was sweet of him to do that for you, it was the least he could do to mellow your sorrows. you were hoping to be with him for a bit longer but what were you expecting really? he’s just someone who comes and goes, taking everything you had to give, just to leave you high and dry all over again. “come here.” jungkook directs assertively, patting his thigh for you to sit on his lap, you waste no time in propping yourself onto him. “don’t be sad doll, cheer up. we’ll meet again sometime yeah?” you nod, feeling so hopeless and broken inside, he’s only saying this because he probably just wants to fuck again. that’s all you are to him, a fucktoy and nothing more. even though he sees you in that light, it still makes you feel validated in some twisted kind of way. at least right now you have all of his attention, it may just be momentarily but it felt so good. one thing was definitely made clear by him though - he was deeply, undeniably, in pure lust with you.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts x f reader #bts x reader #jungkook fic

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mclennonlgbt · 7 days

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Paris in John and Paul’s life

30th September 1961:

“John and I went on a trip for his twenty-first birthday. John was from a very middle-class family, which really impressed me because everyone else was from working-class families. To us John was upper class. His relatives were teachers, dentists, even someone up in Edinburgh in the BBC. It’s ironic, he was always very ‘fuck you!’ and he wrote the song ‘Working Class Hero’ – in fact, he wasn’t at all working class. Anyway, one of John’s relatives gave him £100 for his birthday. A hundred smackers in your hand! That was a real windfall. None of us could believe it. To this day if you gave me £100 I would be impressed. And I was his mate, enough said? ‘Let’s go on holiday.’ – ‘You mean me too? With the hundred quid? Great! I’m part of this windfall.’” - Paul McCartney, Anthology

“We planned to hitchhike to Spain. I had done a spot of hitchhiking with George and we knew you had to have a gimmick; we had been turned down so often and we’d seen that guys that had a gimmick (like a Union Jack round them) had always got the lifts. So I said to John, ‘Let’s get a couple of bowler hats.’ It was showbiz creeping in. We still had our leather jackets and drainpipes – we were too proud of them not to wear them, in case we met a girl; and if we did meet a girl, off would come the bowlers. But for lifts we would put the bowlers on. Two guys in bowler hats – a lorry would stop! Sense of Humour. This, and the train, is how we got to Paris. - Paul McCartney, Anthology

“And Paul and I also did the same thing, once. We just cancelled. We’d made it, in Liverpool. We were making good money, for those days. I can’t remember what it was – maybe a couple of hundred dollars a week – but enough that you’d have a little extra. You’d have it in your back pocket. And Paul and I just— A relative of mine gave me a hundred pounds, for my birthday, which I’d never seen that much money in me life. Paul and I just canceled all the engagements, and left for Paris… And George was furious, because he needed the money – to work, you know. But that was another time when the group was in debate as whether it would exist or not.” - John Lennon, 1976, an interview with Elliot Mintz

“Last night I heard that John and Paul have gone to Paris to play together – in other words, the band has broken up! It sounds mad to me, I don’t believe it…” - Stuart Sutcliffe, Anthology

“We’d never been there before. We were a bit tired so we checked into a little hotel for the night, intending to go off hitchhiking the next morning. Of course, it was too nice a bed after having hitched so we said, ‘We’ll stay a little longer,’ then we thought, ‘God, Spain is a long way, and we’d have to work to get down there.’ We ended up staying the week in Paris – John was funding it all with his hundred quid.

We would walk miles from our hotel; you do in Paris. We’d go to a place near the Avenue des Anglais and we’d sit in the bars, looking good. I still have some classic photos from there. Linda loves one where I am sitting in a gendarme’s mac as a cape and John has got his glasses on askew and his trousers down revealing a bit of Y-front. The photographs are so beautiful, we’re really hamming it up. We’re looking at the camera like, ‘Hey, we are artsy guys, in a café: this is us in Paris,’ and we felt like that.

We went up to Montmartre because of all the artists, and the Folies Bergères, and we saw guys walking around in short leather jackets and very wide pantaloons. Talk about fashion! This was going to kill them when we got back. This was totally happening. They were tight to the knee and then they flared out; they must have been about fifty inches around the bottom and our drainpipe trousers were something like fifteen or sixteen inches. We saw these trousers and said, ‘Excusez-moi, Monsieur, où did you get them?’ It was a cheap little rack down the street so we bought a pair each, went back to the hotel, put them on, went out on the street – and we couldn’t handle it: ‘Do your feet feel like they are flapping? Feel more comfortable in me drainies, don’t you?’ So it was back to the hotel at a run, needle and cotton out and we took them in to a nice sixteen with which we were quite happy. And then we met Jürgen Vollmer on the street. He was still taking pictures." - Paul McCartney, Anthology

“Jürgen had a flattened-down hairstyle with a fringe in the front, which we rather took to. We went over to his place and there and then he cut – hacked would be a better word – our hair into the same style.” - John Lennon, 1963

Interviewer: I heard you took a trip to Spain before once, didn’t you? On Holiday? Paul: I didn’t go to Spain, no. I tried once to make Spain but… and John and I were gonna hitchhike. We hitchhiked down from Liverpool… We didn’t hitchhike. No, we got the train down from Liverpool ‘cause we thought we won’t hitchhike down the first bit. And we got the boat over to Paris. Then we got the train into Paris ‘cause we thought: “Well, it’ll be too hard to get a hitch here”. And we just stayed in Paris all week. And eventually… I mean, all the time trying to get out of Paris and make Spain! We never made it, we just flew home at the end. What a lazy hitchhiking Holiday!

“The thing was all the kissing and holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic just to be there and see them even though I was 21 and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing. And they weren’t not mauling at each other, they were just kissing.” - John Lennon

"John’s 21st birthday was a month away, and he knew he was getting money — 100 pounds cash, more than he or Paul had ever seen in their lives. (…) Bob Wooler was party to their planning, and fought with them:

They were bored, and decided they would go away for a month. I thought this was disastrous because they would be away from the scene too long and lose their fans, Fans were very capricious: they moved from one group to another. And anyway, what about the other two members, George Harrison and Pete Best?. What about them, what do they do? We argued a lot about this — we argued in the back room of the grapes pub to a large extent —- and they said ‘Well, we’ll go away for a fortnight only’

(…) Equally, the promoters who paid the Beatles over-the-odds to present them every week had to “lump it” (….). To a man, and woman, they were incensed by it - but John and Paul hadn’t a care. They didn’t mean to be rude about it but basically it was tough shit.

it was tough too on Dot and Cyn, Dot simply had to accept the situation, but Cyn had a greater case of grievance. John was heading off without her when he could so easily gave waited for the art school holidays. (…).

That John was taking Paul, no one else, accentuates the renewed closeness since Stu quit The Beatles. They were the Beatles force, an unstoppable and authentically powerful pair. “Lennon had the attitude”, Wooler said, “and taking his lead from Lennon, McCartney could be similar. At times they reminded me of those well-to-do Chicago lads Leopold and Loeb, who killed someone because they felt superior to him. Lennon and McCartney were superior human beings”

"You’d always see them together, in the pub or walking along the street", says Johnny Gustafson of the Big Tree. "They were a duo, and seemed each other’s equal". Bernie Boyle, the young lad hanging around with them at every opportunity, says, "They were like brothers, with John as the elder and Paul’s mentor. They were so tight it was like there was a telepathy between them: on stage, they’d look at each other and know instinctively what the other was thinking"

They were brothers. They were the Nerk Twins, and now they were taking a break from The Beatles and gofin off to Spain.

Gustafson happened to bump into them the day they left, Saturday, September 30. “They both had bowler hats on, with the usual leather jackets and jeans. They said they were off to Paris, so I walked down to Lime Street station and watched them go. They were an incredible pair: always great fun, irreverent and so close. - Mark Lewinsohn, Tune In: The Beatles: All These Years (2013)

As was written in this post: That last picture is one Paul took of John sleeping in Paris. From what I remember of a performance he did of ‘Here Today’, and earlier comments, this picture hangs framed on a wall in Paul’s house.

Unconfirmed quote (may or may not be true):

"He must have been fond of me to spend that money. He let me have all the banana milkshakes I wanted.” - Paul McCartney

In January 1964, only a few scant weeks before the Beatles took America by storm, the band mates settled in for an extended stay in Paris. For the group, the Parisian visit proved to be a magical experience, with the Beatles playing 18 shows at the Olympia Theatre between Jan. 16 and Feb. 4 (source).

The photo Paul took of John (in the "Eyes Of The Storm" book):

1969:

Hoping to get married in France, John Lennon and Yoko Ono flew to Paris on this day [16th March].

The couple had decided to marry on 14 March 1969, two days after the wedding of Paul McCartney to Linda Eastman; whether it was in response to this event on some level is open to conjecture.

On McCartney’s wedding day Lennon and Ono were travelling to Poole in Dorset, where he introduced her to his Aunt Mimi. During the journey he asked his chauffeur Les Anthony to go to Southampton to enquire about the possibility of the wedding being held at sea, on the cross-channel ferry to France.

(source)

“On March 12, Paul married Linda Eastman at Marylebone Register Office in London, amid scenes of hysterical grief from his female fans. None of the other Beatles was present. The news reached John as he and Yoko were driving down to visit Aunt Mimi in Poole. Yoko’s divorce decree had become final a few weeks earlier, and, in a resurgence of Beatle copycat, John told her they, too, must get married as soon as possible” - Philip Norman, John Lennon: The Life (2008)

"We chose Gibraltar because it is quiet, British and friendly. We tried everywhere else first. I set out to get married on the car ferry and we would have arrived in France married, but they wouldn’t do it. We were no more successful with cruise ships. We tried embassies, but three weeks’ residence in Germany or two weeks’ in France were required." - John Lennon

1974:

“After a late lunch, Linda launched into a long paean to the joys of living in England. When she was finished, she turned to John and said, “Don’t you miss England?”

“Frankly,” John replied, “I miss Paris.””

— May Pang, Loving John (1983)

1978:

Wings album "London Town" is released. It includes the song "Cafe on the Left Bank", the lyrics of which clearly refer to John and Paul's trip to Paris.

Late 1970s: John is singing to Paul about Paris in a home recording.

1994 - Paul inducting John to Rock and Roll Hall of Fame:

“And then on your 21st birthday you got £100 off one of your rich relatives up in Edinburgh, so we decided we’d go to Spain. So we hitch-hiked out of Liverpool. And we got as far as Paris, and decided to stop there for a week. And eventually got our haircut, by a fellow named Jürgen, and that ended up being the ‘Beatle haircut’.”

I also remember watching an interview with Paul about his album "Memory Almost Full" (2007). Thank you for adding, @ringompreg!

youtube

(it's like 7 minutes in) Interviewer: There is a very beautiful song called "The End Of The End", the way you talk about your whole ending, and the lyric goes: "It's a start of a journey to a much better place." You mean, better than England? Paul: It's basically a start of a journey to France. Or Spain through France. Yeah, that's what it is. It's a much better place, Paris.

Also worth mentoning:

"All You Need Is Love" begins with La Marseillaise.

"Picasso's Last Words (Drink To Me)" contains French-language speech by BBC broadcaster Pierre Le Sève.

#mclennon #mclennon is real #mclennon anthology #paris #frankly i miss paris #may pang #yoko ono #linda eastman #the beatles #gay #bisexual #france #insane #compilation #master post #Youtube

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ironstrange1991 · 9 months

Text

You Are My Home

Pairing: Stephen!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Stephen is happy to get home and have you there waiting for him.

Word Count: 1,5k

Warnings: Very lovely p n v sex, basically just fluff.

A/N: Wrote this yesterday afternoon and decided to post it while the sex pollen fic isn't ready yet. Hope you like it.

Stephen used to be a man of exquisite tastes, who wanted to own the best car, impress as many women as possible, draw the most attention to himself at all times. This was Stephen before the accident, then there was Stephen after the accident, the one who lost everything he owned, who stopped looking after himself because he just couldn't make his hands obey him, the one who found purpose in the mystical arts and which ended up being dragged into the infinity war and blipped for five years.

Today Stephen was a third type of man. Less arrogant, more wise, he liked to think. Neither rich nor poor, but a comfortable thing between those two, somewhat eccentric in style for his old self's eyes, but most important of all: Stephen had you now. The woman he met after returning from the blip, with whom he had been together for three years and who had now agreed to live with him permanently in the Sanctum. Stephen was for all intents and purposes married now, although the papers still hadn't been signed and he still hadn't slipped a ring on your finger.

He never thought it could make him so happy. Of course, you made him happy enough just by loving him, but there was something special about knowing that every time he came home you were there to welcome him. It made him feel that everything he fought for, sometimes such abstract concepts as reality, the universe, now had a form and a name. You.

That night when Stephen opened a portal to the Sanctum after returning from an extremely long mission, he felt lots of feelings welling up in his chest. Satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment for having succeeded in yet another mission, relief for finally being home and knowing that he could take a shower and give his tired body the much-deserved rest, and a much stronger feeling, one that dominated all the others: gratitude for you being the first thing he saw when he got home.

You laid lazily under a blanket in the sofa of the living room, distracted by whatever it was you were watching. Your face lit only by the brightness that came from the tv once all the lights were off and just for being there, Stephen thought, you made the Sanctum Sanctorum really feel like home.

The loud sound of the tv and the horrendous screams and a horrifying music were enough reasons for you not to notice his presence, which made Stephen smirk to himself and close the portal behind him. He walked slowly towards you, his boots making the floor under his feet squeak and finally you looked up at him with a beautiful smile and promptly sat down crisscrossed on the couch.

"Hey, you're here. I had already given up hope that you would come back today." You said stretching out your hand for him to hold and pulling him closer.

"I confess it took me longer than I expected this time, but in the end you know I always come back to you." He said snapping his fingers and turning on the living room lamps, which made you squint behind the lenses of your glasses. You examined him closely, running your hands down his arms and chest and then letting out a small sigh of relief.

"No injuries this time, a real miracle."

"Sometimes it happens." Stephen chuckled, reaching his hands up to the sides of your glasses and carefully taking them off. He placed them on top of the coffee table. "Now I want a welcome kiss."

With those words, Cloaky let go of his shoulders and flew up the stairs as if it knew the two of you deserved a few moments alone after everything Stephen had been through the last few days.

"Hm, I think I want to give you more than just a kiss." You replied letting yourself be pulled to his lips. Stephen wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing. He sat up and helped you straddle him and as soon as you settled into his lap you pulled him to your lips again, your hand holding him around the back of his neck, the other running aimlessly down his chest, your hips gridding on him until you managed to get a moan from his lips. Moan that you smothered with your kisses full of saliva, teeth, and desire.

Now this feels like home. Stephen thought.

"I missed you, Stephen." You breathed right under his ear, making his skin tingle and an electrical current run down his spine towards his cock, making him throb beneath you.

"I missed you too, Sweetheart."

Unable to contain the desire he felt for you, Stephen grabbed your hips and forced you down, grinding you on his cock and closing his eyes, lolling his head back and letting you continue with your kisses and nibbles on his lips, chin and neck. It all felt too good to be true. He had won one more mission, he was home and you were there in his lap.

He exhaled deeply cupping your face between his hands. "Let's go upstairs, I need a shower first, I'm all sweaty and dirty."

But you were eager to deny his suggestion, grabbing a handful of his hair in the back of his head and placing your other hand flat on his chest to hold him in place.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply, "I like it. It's very masculine."

Stephen couldn't help but giggle, but shortly after he let out a loud moan when you rolled your hips on top of his cock in such a way that he saw stars. After 12 days away from home, he was climbing the walls, begging for some relief and you were more than willing to torture him with all that tease.

"You smell good actually. Makes me horny." You confessed. Stephen loved that about you. You were always so open about everything with him, especially in bed.

"May I?" You asked taking your hands to his belts and glancing at him through your lashes.

He nodded and you were quick to unbuckle all the belts. After years of doing that you could tell you were used to dealing with Stephen's robes, and an instant later you had his cock out of his pants. You pumped him slowly and then stopped for a second just to spit in your hand and bring the saliva to the tip of his cock. You lifted yourself up enough to pull the pajama shorts you were wearing to the side and direct him inside you.

"Fuck" Stephen groaned when you let yourself sink on his length. His head tilting back, eyes closing.

You kissed him passionately, but instead of starting to move you just stood there, still, feeling him pulsing inside you. That was like heaven for you.

When you finally moved, you did it slowly, not necessarily searching for a release, but taking your time, enjoying the feeling of having the man you loved between your legs.

He didn't thrust up, instead he pulled you to his mouth, placing kisses on your lips, on your chin, down to your neck, rubbing his goatee there and smirking at the prickling of your skin. He loved that.

You kept that slow motion pace for what seemed like a long time, neither of you willing to change a thing about it, reveling in that intimacy of making love instead of fucking that you knew was so rare.

When your release came it wasn't like an explosion, but like a flowing river, strong but calm, long but silent. You buried your face in his neck, moaning softly and breathing hard, your body trembling on top of his.

He tightened his grip on your hips, moving you back and forth on his cock, prolonging your climax and you felt his cock pulsing harder inside you, his breathing getting harder. You cupped his face in your hands and rested your forehead against his, your eyes locked, but neither of you said anything, not with words at least.

When his release came, he kissed you passionately and your bodies movements stopped completely, you could feel his cock pulsing and spurting his warm cum inside you. It felt right, it felt like home.

Stephen doubted he would ever get used to coming inside you. Not because of the act itself, but because of the sensation, the consummation of a love so great that it went far beyond sex, but that somehow was enshrined in that gesture. He was sure there was something sacred about the way you made him feel when he came on you.

You stayed a few minutes without exchanging a word. You dropped your body weight on top of his and he wrapped his arms around you keeping the two of you connected and the silence never felt more comfortable. Just your soft breath against his chest and his on the top of your head. Outside Stephen could hear the sound of cars passing in the street, but inside the Sanctum the complicit silence prevailed.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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blorbocedes · 26 days

Text

resharing riddle of rosberg by Will Buxton, because OP who originally posted it deactivated, and it's a very interesting read. since WB recently talked about how he didn't like Nico until they had a breakthrough moment and he realised that's his German sense of humour, this contextualises how people perceived Nico. Buxton wrote on Nico back in 2014, which covers his early GP2 career, the 2014 F1 season and provides a fascinating insight into Nico’s character. Highlights below:

I can’t recall the first time I met Nico Rosberg. All I remember is that I despised him, everything he was and all he represented: the cock-sure, entitled, bolshy son of a world champion. No grace, no humility. Wafting in, a blur of blonde hair and arrogance. A Formula BMW champion yes, but only a few F3 wins and just three years in single seaters gave what I held to be little foundation for such seeming conceit. I disliked him intensely. It got to the point where I held such disdain for him that I would actively seek for our paths to not cross… which was fairly hard given I was PRing the championship in which he was racing. I’d simply ask someone else to grab his quotes for me. They always seemed to be able to pull more out of him anyway.

Nico Rosberg had been quick from the outset, and watching his racecraft develop as the season went on became a growing point of emotional turmoil for me. He was so impressive; seemingly effortlessly rapid and blessed with a precision that was metronomic. But I just couldn’t like him. I wished he’d been a good guy, one I could get excited about. But instead I felt huge sadness that such a wonderful talent had been given to a guy who was apparently such a Class A prat.

I recall the low point only too well. He was breezing past on his way to dinner. His team-mate Alexandre Premat had topped qualifying, and I’d used the staggeringly unoriginal press release headline of “Premat Powers to Pole.”

“Why don’t I ever “power” to anything?” he pointedly sneered as he walked past.

I looked up, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Then it hit, and I wondered why he was being so petty. The headline was simple alliteration. I had probably or would probably use “Rosberg Reigns” at some point of the season on the back of one of his wins. It was just Nico being typical Nico.

“Dick!” I whispered under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Later that night, I needed to talk to his then-PR guy Karsten Streng and hopped into the ART truck to find him.

“Karsten, can we have a chat?”

Out from behind his race overalls jumped Nico.

“Oh, so you don’t want to speak to me then? Huh? What’s that all about? You’d rather speak to Karsten than to me?”

I turned on my heels and walked out.

Karsten ran after me.

“Will, man, you can’t let that get to you. You know he’s only joking, right? Just fire it straight back at him. He’ll love it. He’s really a fun guy… honestly. But if you don’t give it back to him he’ll think he’s got the high ground. He loves a challenge.”

The next day Nico sent some pithy comment my way, so I turned around, flipped him the bird and winked. “Fuck you Rosberg.”

He looked taken aback. I broke out in a cold sweat. This was not behavior becoming of the championship’s press officer. Had I just managed to ruin any relationship I might have had with the man destined to be our first champion?

A smile broke across his face, and we never had a cross word again. Indeed, we started to get on really well. At the end of the season I received a package to my home, from Monaco. In it was an ART team shirt, signed by Nico, thanking me for my support. I had it framed, and it remains one of my most treasured pieces of memorabilia from my career in racing.

Nico was the most savvy driver I ever worked with. Stepping down from the podium after winning the GP2 title, he spoke to the awaiting press in turn, each in their own language. I’d only ever seen him in individual language press briefings, and to see him utilise such cool and calm intelligence so soon after the elation of what was at the time the most meaningful moment of his career left me astounded.

But therein lies the deepest issue with Nico Rosberg. He isn’t just smart. He’s the sort of smart that makes the rest of us question if we’re quite as clever as we thought we were. And at times it can be his undoing.

I’d seen his intelligence and need for the high ground cause him trouble time and time again in interviews, even in the GP2 days. The interviewer would sit down, all smiles, ready to start the conversation. But Nico, fearful of being on the back foot, would fire retorts and wrestle control of the interview back into his own hands. He would put the interviewer at ill ease in order to make himself feel more comfortable with the situation. What resulted was a terrible interview, and the prevailing opinion of Rosberg being precisely the one I’d drawn when first we met: that he was cocky and arrogant. When I came back to journalism in 2008 I had booked a sit down with him at Williams and for the first 2 minutes of the interview, that’s exactly how he was: back against the wall, stand-offish, arrogant, unlikable. I switched off the Dictaphone and asked him if he was going to carry on being a prick or if we could do this properly. He looked sheepish, apologised, and we picked back up with what ended up being a great interview.

All of which led to a question often asked: is Nico Rosberg too smart for his own good?

It’s a question that has come back again this year.

Many will point to Monaco as a stand-out point of the season. I always felt Rosberg was smart enough to pull off that stunt in qualifying, but I never believed he was that cynical or cold. To be a world champion takes more than intelligence and speed. As I argued over Multi-21 last year, while we may hate to admit it, what marks the champions out from the also-rans is the ability to be a complete bastard when the moment arrives. In Monaco, Nico was the bastard and turned that qualifying controversy into a race win that had the ability to completely shift the tide of the season.

That it didn’t, however, is his own doing.

Lewis Hamilton is widely regarded as one of the best qualifiers in modern Formula 1. And yet, with a dominantly fast car at his disposal, he has lost the Pole Trophy to Nico Rosberg, the German amassing 10 poles to Hamilton’s seven. That metronomic precision has played into the Rosberg’s hands on many occasions this season, and more often than not it has given him the upper hand going into the race. On Saturdays at least, Rosberg has proved beyond doubt that he has the pace. But he hasn’t turned that Saturday pace on regularly enough in Sunday’s race.

Mentally, what happened in Budapest was also a tremendous shock. Hungary should never have affected him as much as it did. Perhaps it all comes down to how much brain capacity we consider Nico Rosberg as having, but that August break should have been used to move on from what he perceived as injustice, and start the second half of the season fresh and with total clarity of mind. Rosberg used all of that mindfulness, however, to focus on the negatives and came back to Spa with it still playing on his mind.

That incident on lap 2 of the 2014 Belgian Grand Prix has been poured over to frankly ridiculous degrees. To me, it was a nothing moment. Rosberg could have backed out, Hamilton could have given more room. That both went into it so pathetically ultimately resulted in the damage it did. If Rosberg had truly wanted to teach Hamilton a lesson then he should have gone in hard. That he didn’t is the only reason that Hamilton’s tyre was sliced. Any intent, and Rosberg would have snapped his front wing, bouncing it off the side of the Briton’s tyre. Hamilton would have stormed off into the distance while Rosberg was forced to switch his wing.

I argued at the time that Rosberg needed to embrace one side or the other. He needed to be a hero or a villain, because if he was neither, he risked becoming nothing. And so it emerged after the race that he had told Hamiton he had allowed the impact to happen. A step towards becoming that villain? Perhaps, but it wasn’t enough. And that’s the big sadness of his season. He has been so fast and so consistent, but his inability to pick a side and his attempts at being all things to all people has led to him being left wide open to attack from all sides.

The way he interacts with broadcast crews is an incredible illustration of this. In Monza, in speaking with me on American television he spoke in confident and unashamed tones despite his apparent dressing down by the team over Spa. With the Germans he was the same… almost bullish. And then to the British TV and radio crews, his shoulders slumped forward, his head bowed down, his tone was full of contrition and regret. What he was saying was no different to what he had told the German or international crews, but the way it was said was at total odds with how he had been just 10 seconds before.

Just as in Bahrain at that GP2 finale 10 years ago, I stood in awe. So savvy, so intelligent to his audience… but perhaps, in this instance, a reflection of him trying to be just that little bit too smart.

The thing is, he can be so charming too. He has a dry and sarcastic wit, which can sometimes be played out with a deft finesse. In America and Brazil, he started to have a very subtle jab at his championship rival by adopting Lewis Hamilton’s apparent mot du jour. In almost every interview, Rosberg would drop in a little comment about how “blessed” he felt. Shrewd. Subtle. At times, however, he can be a total child. In Hungary this year I was running from my commentary position to the GP3 podium to conduct the post race interviews. Time is tight at the best of times, but when I arrived at the swipe gates I felt an arm around my waist pulling me back. At first I thought it was an over-zealous security guard. But no. It was Nico, giggling away with a huge grin plastered across his face.

Should he be crowned 2014 Formula 1 world champion, be it through double points or, let’s hope, a barn-storming wheel-to-wheel thriller, some will still argue that Nico Rosberg does not deserve to be world champion. With them, however, I would disagree. Lest we forget, this is the only man who, over the course of a full Formula 1 season, finished ahead of Michael Schumacher as a team-mate. As if to reinforce the point, Rosberg achieved this giant toppling feat not once, but thrice.

His out-and-out pace in qualifying this year has been insurmountable. That he has won the inaugural Pole Trophy is evidence of that. So we know he has the pace, we know he has the temperament to win races, and we know that on occasion he can embrace his inner bastard and drive with the ruthlessness that sets world champions apart.

Nico Rosberg has shown repeatedly in 2014 that he possesses the attributes shared by the best of the best. We should not deny him his glory should he be confirmed as such on Sunday.

#will buxton straight up was writing how nico is a manic pixie dream girl #essential read for nicologists #nico rosberg #will buxton #nicology #longform article

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rayshippouuchiha · 1 year

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TBH the lack of Real Respect Tsuna and Skull both get makes me wanna see ‘em just… Vanish. They aren’t hurt, or in trouble, but they both end up tired as hell and want like. One (1) year to themselves, without being called shit like useless or lackey or weak. So they fuck off and onto some whimsical journey across the world, probably running into the fair folk or some shit (because Tsuna’s Super Anxiety would make him a damn hard target for them, and I feel like they’d just Vibe with Skull. Immortal and all that).

Meanwhile, everyone back in Namimori is losing. their. shit. Trying to find their two dumbasses, flipping every damn stone over because they’ve Clearly been kidnapped. No One notices the note Tsuna and Skull left, because Skull still isn’t the best at writing and Tsuna’s Super Anxiety kicked in and said that if he wrote it he’d never get his goddamn vacation.

To clarify, this is meant to be (mostly) humorous, but I’m curious to see where you’d go with an idea like this. I just want Skull and Tsuna to travel the world together TBH. Feel like they’d make good brothers.

Oh oh yes. Obviously there'll be humor but, well, it's me and we all know how these things eat my brain and I have to give them some bite so:

Skull isn't really one of Arcobaleno that Tsuna generally spends much time with.

When it comes to the Strongest, the ones Tsuna's found himself spending the most time with has always been Reborn and, surprisingly enough, Fon.

Reborn is around more often than not, content to keep torturing Tsuna even if his official title has shifted from Demon Tutor to Demon Tutor/Advisor.

And Fon's tendency to stop by frequently can be chalked up to I-pin and the fact that, for some reason, the Storm seems to be under the impression that hanging around Tsuna will, somehow, help him grow closer to Hibari.

Which is something that doesn't really make much sense to Tsuna. Even after years of being dragged into and out of various ridiculous shenanigans together, and despite recent Hibari's tendency to commandeer Tsuna's bed or floor or balcony at random times to nap, Tsuna's still not convinced that Hibari actually remembers he exists whenever they're not in the same room together.

And sometimes not even then.

A part of Tsuna also suspects that the "Small Animal" title he carries now might just be Hibari's way of getting around the fact that he doesn't remember Tsuna's actual name anymore.

It is, much like most everything else involving Hibari and Tsuna's thoughts about him, confusing and difficult for Tsuna to make up his mind about.

So, besides Reborn's continued sadism and Fon regularly attempting to use Tsuna as some kind of emotional Switzerland and/or human sacrifice to Hibari, Tsuna tends to see the other Arcobaleno on a bit of a floating schedule.

Viper, as Reborn has taken to insisting everyone outside of the Varia call the Mist, tends to blip in and out every once in a while. Often bringing news from Xanxus and leaving with anything strawberry flavored in Tsuna's house and whatever money he might have in his wallet at the moment.

Lal Mirch and Colonello tend to arrive and depart together, attached at the hip now no matter how much they bicker.

Verde's version of checking in seems to come in the form of sending whatever new robot or nightmare construct he's thought of to attack Tsuna and "gather data".

But Skull?

Tsuna rarely sees Skull.

The Cloud floats in and out of town only rarely and never stays longer than absolutely necessary. Often times he's gone within the hour.

Which is, in Tsuna's opinion, actually kind of a shame.

Because the thing is, Tsuna actually likes Skull.

Oh, he hadn't a few years ago when they'd first come across each other.

No back then Tsuna had hated each new and increasingly ridiculous trap/trick/shenanigan and situation Reborn had managed to push him into.

Skull had just been another irritation on a rapidly increasing list of things Tsuna hadn't wanted to deal with.

But ,,,

Well, it hadn't taken Tsuna long to realize that Skull and he were much more alike than he'd ever thought possible back at the beginning.

And now, with a few years of Reborn and this mafia headache under his belt?

Now Skull's someone that Tsuna wouldn't actually mind seeing more of.

Even though he knows it's not likely to happen.

Mainly because Tsuna's not actually a complete idiot no matter what some people still seem to think.

Tsuna's seen enough interactions between Reborn and Skull to have a pretty good idea about where some of the chips in that relationship fall.

Plus Hyper Intuition is helpful for more than just life-or-death battles these days even if Tsuna's not made that fact as openly obvious as he might once have.

It's yet another area in which Tsuna's found he can sympathize with Skull.

Because Tsuna also has a hyper-violent sadist he half wishes he could care less about sometimes.

Which is why Tsuna's so surprised to see a familiar pair of leather-clad legs dangling over the edge of the roof when he steps out onto his balcony, desperate to escape the screaming and general chaos that has once again taken over his house.

Tsuna goes to call out only for that familiar flare of warning heat to snap his mouth closed.

Instead Tsuna does something that he wouldn't have been able to a few short years ago.

He reaches up, grabs the edge of his roof in one hand, and pulls himself up onto the tiles above him.

When he's kneeling on the roof a few seconds later Tsuna finds himself glad that he didn't make too much noise, glad that he didn't draw any attention to Skull.

Because Skull's currently laid out on Tsuna's roof, legs dangling over the side but arms pillowed behind his head, helmet settled at his hip and eyes trained on the night sky and face almost eerily blank.

It is, Tsuna can't help but think, the quietest he's ever seen Skull.

It's honestly a little unsettling.

But, worst of all somehow in Tsuna's opinion, is the fact that Skull looks ,,, tired.

He doesn't even bother to greet Tsuna beyond flicking those vibrant violet eyes in his direction before going back to his star gazing.

To Tsuna, Skull has never looked more like everything he was taught a Cloud is supposed to be than in this moment.

Cold.

Illusive.

Bound to drift away.

The thought sends a shiver of premonition down Tsuna's spine.

Tsuna finds himself laying down on the roof beside him, legs dangling over the edge and arms folded behind his head.

Their elbows are just barely brushing.

And all the while a flickering whisper in the back of Tsuna's mind sings.

"I'm tired," Tsuna finds himself saying some silent drawn-out minutes later.

A beat of silence.

"Yeah," Skull sighs, voice lower and smoother than Tsuna has ever heard it before, "me too."

"I," Tsuna pauses, swallows, feels his Intuition surge and sharpen, "I love my friends and I know they care too but sometimes I just ,,,"

Tsuna trails off because he knows that Skull understands without him ever having to finish.

"Wish you could go to sleep and wake up on the opposite end of the world so that maybe you could get some rest and peace before they inevitably find you again?" Skull offers.

"Yes," The answer practically bursts out of Tsuna.

Another beat of silence.

"I've got an airship," Skull announces.

Tsuna hears it for the offer it is.

"They'd find us," Tsuna points out softly, twisting just a bit so he's looking Skull in the face. "They'd hunt us down and drag us both back."

The smirk Skull sends him in return is far darker and slyer than any expression Tsuna's ever seen on his face before.

"Oh, malysh nebo," Skull practically purrs, "they could certainly try."

#RayRambles #KHR #Katekyo Hitman Reborn #Tsuna And Skull's Excellent Adventure AU

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dsudis · 1 year

Text

Adaptive Tea Making

For @domaystic Day 5: Learning Something New.

Dream is human now, and determined to learn how to make his beloved a cup of tea. He just has a small difficulty with time to get over.

___

Hob looked over at Dream, who was perched on a stool at the kitchen bench with his ever-present notebook open to a fresh page, his phone unlocked beside it, and an actual stopwatch beside that. He had a pencil in his hand, freshly sharpened, and a second pencil also perfectly sharpened set beside the notebook.

Hob had secondhand text anxiety just looking at those pencils.

"Ready?" Hob asked, though surely it was not possible to be more ready than Dream currently was.

Dream didn't even meet his gaze, his eyes fixed firmly on Hob's hands. "Ready. Please show me, one more time, how to make a cup of tea the way you like it."

As Dream spoke he wrote on the pristine notebook page: Hob's tea instructions. His handwriting was crooked and crabbed but legible.

"So--there's water in the kettle already," Hob said, feeling like possibly he was the one being tested. However he made this cup of tea, Dream would continue making this exact cup of tea for him forever.

Hob was fine with that. Hob would frankly have been fine with continuing to get wildly undrinkable cups of tea from Dream forever, but Dream was determined to learn this particular human skill correctly, and seemed somehow convinced that this time he was going to crack it.

Hob flipped the switch. Dream turned on a timer on his phone and then wrote down the first two steps: water in kettle and turn on kettle. He also wrote to one side, Phone timer: total length of process and drew a little line beside it to be filled in with a number later.

They had learned, after Dream had committed a series of frankly baffling tea mishaps including "hot water with no detectable trace of tea" and "oversteeped to the point of activating an immortal's gag reflex through sheer bitterness" and "boiled the kettle dry" that Dream had no real sense of how time passed. It passed how he wished it to pass, in the Dreaming, and even in the Waking he had always been able to nudge reality a bit to make the flow of time conform to his narrative sense or personal convenience.

Now that he was divested of those powers and operating a human body, the linear flow of time had so far made absolutely no impression on Dream. Hob had had to point out to him things like "if you wake up and it is still dark, it is still night, and you will probably want to go back to sleep until it's light out" and how often meals should happen.

It was the tea that had made it clear that even telling Dream times when things should happen was not very helpful to him. He couldn't seem to hold the numbers in his head or make sense of them when he consulted a clock. Hob had simply started giving him other ways of gauging the passage of time, teaching him about the sun's position in the sky at mealtimes and when Hob returned from work, and about the activity of people visible from the windows, and which programs on the telly corresponded reliably to morning, afternoon, and evening.

Hob had spent long stretches of time--most of his life, really--without access to clocks. People nowadays were obsessed with them, and with precise timing for everything, but Dream wouldn't need to worry about being punctual to a work shift or keeping all sorts of appointments. Hob could help him with where precision was needed, and could teach him to get along where it wasn't.

Tea, unfortunately, was a matter of some precision. When the kettle let out the first gurgles, Hob grabbed the tea canister. "Plenty of times I just use bag tea, but my insufferably posh lover seems set on spoiling me, so," Hob scooped tea into the strawberry-shaped infuser. "This is what we've got in place of a tea bag. Time-wise, either should work the same."

Dream faithfully wrote down prepare infuser (or tea bag).

"The timing for the kettle will change a bit. A smaller amount of water boils faster. There's a bit over two cups in right now," Hob pointed to the line on the side, "so it takes a little over two minutes."

Dream wrote down kettle boils and then waited watchfully until the kettle hit its automatic shutoff and consulted the time. Kettle shuts off, he wrote down, and then 2:38 with a tidy little asterisk beside it.

"Infuser goes in mug," Hob narrated. "Pour the water over it, leave about an inch at the top for milk. And start your stopwatch, because this is the bit I couldn't tell you, because I do it by feel."

Dream started the stopwatch and scribbled down more notes, drawing a little box for the all-important steeping time to be entered. Hob watched the mug, wondering once again how he did know when it was done steeping. He'd tried more than once to describe it to Dream, but none of his descriptions had been at all helpful--as proven by the various disastrous cups of tea--and had only frustrated both of them.

He wanted to fill the silence, but Hob didn't dare mess this up for Dream, when he was so determined to get this right. Most of human life had come easily enough to him, once he set himself to adapt to it, but tea had thwarted him. Hob was a little worried that Dream was building this up into some kind of epic battle of wills he had to win to Succeed At Being Human.

Dream looked up at him expectantly and Hob looked back down at his mug, a little worried that he'd gotten distracted--he'd certainly oversteeped his tea enough times for one reason or another--but no, a sniff and a glance told him it wasn't quite there yet. "Almost," Hob said. "Not really a bad cup of tea if you stop now, but not quite." He drummed his fingers, waiting for--

"Ah," Hob said, "Now." He reached for the infuser and lifted it out, and the stopwatch clicked at the exact instant it cleared the top of the mug. Hob set the infuser in the sink and then swirled the cup of tea, giving it another sniff to be sure, but yes, that was a just-right cup of tea. He grabbed the jug of milk and looked to see that Dream was intently watching before he poured in a dollop.

Dream's eyes narrowed slightly and then he nodded and wrote down a specific liquid volume that Hob was sure was in fact precisely correct--Dream's spatial skills were laser-accurate and slightly unnerving.

"And a spoonful of sugar, because I'm feeling like it today," Hob said. "I do honey sometimes. Sometimes two spoonfuls of sugar." He stirred in the sugar and sipped. "And that's--"

Dream clicked the timer on his phone and recorded the time, then picked up the phone and tapped rapidly at it. "Tell me that the water should boil about now," Dream said, and held out the phone like a reporter's microphone.

"Water should be boiling about now," Hob parroted obediently.

Dream nodded, tapped at the phone again, and said, "Now tell me the tea is ready."

When Dream held out the phone, Hob said, "Tea's ready, love."

Dream was startled into a smile at that addition, and asked, "How is it?"

"Just right," Hob said. "But if you--"

Dream shook his head, still smiling, and went back to tapping at things on his phone. "These things are amazing, you know?" Dream said. "I thought I would have to learn magic, but these are like little prosthetic memories. If you work out all the steps, you can make it do all these things for you. Well, not for you, you don't need it. For me."

"I mean, I'd be lost without my calendar and things," Hob said. He'd never thought of technology to solve Dream's difficulty with time. He'd thought it was just more clocks all the way down, there.

"Watch," Dream said, and then, to his phone, "Computer, making a cup of tea."

"Acknowledged," his phone replied, because Dream had watched possibly too many sci-fi movies with Hob at what had turned out to be a formative time in his life. "When there is water in the kettle, turn the kettle on."

Dream mimed flipping the switch on the kettle.

Nothing happened, since Dream was still a good yard away from the kettle. Reminded, Hob ran some more water into it and put it back. He was sipping his tea again and nearly choked on it when his own voice came from Dream's phone. "Water should be boiling about now."

"Computer, wait," Dream said, and the phone was back to its Computer voice when it said, "Acknowledged."

"In case there is more water in the kettle," Dream said. "If there is less, I will be able to tell it to skip ahead when the water boils."

"Computer, resume," Dream added to the phone.

"Prepare the infuser, then pour boiling water over it."

Dream mimed dropping the infuser into the mug, then pouring the water. "Computer, steeping."

"Steeping," the computer said, sounding slightly stilted like it had had to assemble that word from individual sounds instead of having it pre-recorded.

"I'll be able to use this for anything to do with timing," Dream said, scratching down more notes in his notebook. "I just have to set the intervals and key phrases, and optionally recordings for specific announcements, and then I will be able to do things that need timing. As long as I have my phone. Possibly I should get one of those watches."

"That's no trouble, then," Hob said, pulling out his own phone to order a watch to sync with Dream's phone. "And you know I'm always happy to be your speaking clock, love."

Dream came around the bench and kissed him, curling a hand around Hob's on his mug. "I shall feed you your lines when I need them," Dream said, and somehow it was desperately romantic and made Hob so proud he could cry, knowing Dream knew that Hob would always be glad to help him do things in his own way.

He opened his mouth to try to say it, his heart almost too full for words, and was cut off by his own voice from Dream's phone. "Tea's ready, love."

[Now on Ao3!]

#fic #dreamling #the sandman #retired dream #time blindness

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a-local-idiots-shitpost · 7 months

Text

Solomon stole Mc´s phone and writes to the Brothers

Lucifer:

he knew it wasn´t you and decided to play along until the moron who stole your phone messed up

after that… well he still has to think about it but he´ll know something soon enough

when he finds out it was Solomon, he shouldn´t have been but he was surprised

at least the fact he actually stole your phone was a surprise, knowing you Lucifer just thought you allowed it to fuck with him

he will definitely try to find Solomon so he can take your phone back himself

and hopes he didn´t read you chats, everybody already thinks he favors you (which he does) and he doesn´t want him to find anything in your chats

Mammon:

to Solomon´s surprise Mammon immediately knew it wasn´t Mc who he was chatting with and just as fast threatened him to tell him where Mc is and if anything happened to them whoever has their phone is dead

it was very impress for Solomon

not so impressive when Mammon tracked him down and was ready to beat him to a bloody pulp if he even harmed a hair on Mc´s head

and then he was embarrassed when he found it that it was only Solomon and Mc was in their room the entire time, safe as a Human can be in the Devildom

yeah after this one he hide in his room for a while

Leviathan:

he knew it wasn´t Mc because they already told him about their missing phone

sooo Levi decided to have some fun with it and mess with Solomon, which included making him jealous that he has a better relationship with Mc than Solomon does

and it worked so good that he got hit by lightening, it hurt but it was totally worth it

Levi would always do it again if he got the chance

the only downside is that Solomon found out that he has Mc´s phone and now they are hunting him down

he would prefer if they stayed and helped him with some of his games but at least he might get a souvenir from their endless hunt for Solomon

Satan:

Solomon might have fooled him for a little while but his writing makes to much sense for it to be Mc´s insane and delirious ramblings

he is just not the type to go crazy over even the tiniest of mistakes and randomly send him countless ramblings for a week before just stopping, that´s an art form only he and them mastered

but he also let Solomon know that as soon as he sees him he will kill him… and he´ll tell Mc what he did and as he should Solomon is a lot more terrified of what Mc could do than Satan

also both of them will hunt him at the same time and they will get Thirteen involved because she´s always up for trying to kill him

Asmodeus:

he thought it was funny that Solomon thought he could trick him, as if he doesn´t know every little detail about how everybody chats

but he decided to play along just because he wanted to know what Solomon was planning

and it was boring even his attempts at spicing up his chats with him failed

but he has the real Mc to keep him company<3 so everything even out´s in the end

and he was hoping he would get a bit jealous about it but no Solomon had to be boring and abandon everything when Asmo told him Mc was on their way

so unfair… it´s not like he could even die or that that´s the first time Mc tried to torture him

Beelzebub:

Mc was getting some light snacks, which were just mountains upon mountains of food, with him when Solomon wrote to him

but he was also really bad at impersonating Mc so even if they weren´t literally besides him he would have known it wasn´t them

only difference would have been that he would have worried that something happened to them and would get ready to find whoever has their phone and eat them

but now Mc saw it and they will do the hunting, would have been a lot easier for him to just turn himself in and a lot less painful

even worse he distracted Mc from their food and they hate when someone does that

now he feels bad for Solomon when Mc get´s their hands on him

Belphegor:

he was half heartily listening to them complain about some piece of shit stealing their phone and horrible timing on Solomon´s part that he was trying to trick him at this exact moment

yeah Mc found out and now Mc wants to hunt him for sport

he would´t even dream of stopping them not because he cares about what happens to Solomon but because he´s tired and now Mc won´t bother him

also when they have their phone back it will be a lot easier for them to stay still so he can nap on them, without it they move far to much

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #lucifer avatar of pride #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #mammon avatar of greed #obey me leviathan #leviathan avatar of envy #obey me satan #satan avatar of wrath #asmodeus avatar of lust #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub avatar of gluttony #belphegor avatar of sloth #obey me belphegor

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gardenschedule · 1 month

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John not meaning what he says

You know, we all say a lot of things when we don’t know what we’re talking about. I’m probably doing it now, I don’t know what I say. You see, everybody takes you up on the words you said, and I’m just a guy that people ask all about things, and I blab off and some of it makes sense and some of it is bullshit and some of it’s lies and some of it is — God knows what I’m saying. I don’t know what I said about Maharishi, all I know is what we said about Apple, which was worse.

John Lennon: The Rolling Stone Interview, Part One

“It’s sort of complicated but sometimes you say things, but it’s not really what you meant to say. If I say something to you and you hear it different from what I’ve said it, and you answer back and we’re not really getting down to it. I’m really talking like that you know. Like somebody says ‘do you want ice cream?’ and I’ll say no, and actually I meant yes. You find yourself saying the opposite of what you mean. This happens to me quite a lot. I speak a lot, but what I say is not always what I mean.“

John Lennon, 1973.

‘I was told recently by Yoko that one of the things that hurt John over the years was me going off and doing The Family Way,’ Paul says. The filmmaking Boulting brothers had approached him via George Martin. ‘I thought this was a great opportunity. We were all free to do stuff outside the Beatles and we’d each done various little things.’ When he mentioned it to John, Paul said, ‘He would have had his suit of armour on and said: “No, I don’t mind.”

Paul McCartney, c/o Ray Coleman, McCartney: Yesterday and Today. (1995)

But by the time I arrived, an agitated John was deeply involved indeed. More specifically, he was having a row with Paul and George Martin. “We’ve already done the concept album,” he argued, presumably referring to Pepper. “Why do we need to do another one?” “Look, John, we’re just trying to think symphonically,” George replied. “We’re trying to create a complete work out of song fragments.” John was derisive at first, saying, “You’re taking yourselves too seriously,” but when Paul invited him to contribute some compositions of his own to the medley, he seemed to capitulate. “Well, I might have one or two that could fit,” he said sheepishly. I exchanged glances with Paul. I’m sure we were both thinking the same thing: He’s just been waiting to be asked.

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

SHEFF: But you didn’t compose your stuff separately, as other accounts have said? JOHN: No, no, no. I said that, but I was lying. [Laughs.] By the time I said that, we were so sick of this idea of writing and singing together, especially me, that I started this thing about, “We never wrote together, we were never in the same room.” Which wasn’t true. We wrote a lot of stuff together, one-on-one, eyeball to eyeball.

John Lennon, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)

PLAYBOY: "When you talk about working together on a single lyric like "We Can Work It Out,' it suggests that you and Paul worked a lot more closely than you've admitted in the past. Haven't you said that you wrote most of your songs separately, despite putting both of your names on them?" LENNON: "Yeah, I was lying. (laughs) It was when I felt resentful, so I felt that we did everything apart. But, actually, a lot of the songs we did eyeball to eyeball."

John Lennon, 1980

“No, no, no,” he answered and he meant it. “I’m going to be an ex-Beatle for the rest of my life so I might as well enjoy it, and I’m just getting around to being able to stand back and see what happened. A couple of years ago I might have given everybody the impression I hate it all, but that was then. I was talking when I was straight out of therapy and I’d been mentally stripped bare and I just wanted to shoot my mouth off to clear it all away. Now it’s different. “When I slagged off the Beatle thing in the papers, it was like divorce pangs, and me being me it was blast this and fuck that, and it was just like the old days in the Melody Maker, you know, ‘Lennon Blasts Hollies’ on the back page. You know, I’ve always had a bit of a mouth and I’ve got to live up to it. Daily Mirror: ‘Lennon beats up local DJ at Paul’s 21st birthday party’. Then we had that fight Paul and me had through the Melody Maker, but it was a period I had to go through.

John Lennon, interview w/ Ray Coleman for Melody Maker: Lennon – a night in the life. (September 14th, 1974)

GEORGE: I remember the day when John did an interview with a certain magazine and said certain things, and then I remember the day when he disagreed with what he’d said, but the man who interviewed him denied him the right to change his mind and, even though it was two and a half years, later still went ahead and published something which John said he no longer agreed with himself on. Which means the dream was over, yet certain people wouldn’t allow him to have his dream... over. Nudge nudge wink wink, say no more. [inaudible] JOHN: In other words, imagine if somebody or if you accidentally bang your head and you shout, “Ow!” – that’s the end of it. [self-conscious; laughs] Right? GEORGE: And he said that too. JOHN: I mean, it doesn’t go on for the next five years, right? And we all did that.

December 21st, 1974 (New York)

INT: It seem that you did minimize a little bit, what the, what the effect was on the, value and lifestyle and all that. You said that there was almost nothing left of Beatles. JOHN: Well I get bitter too, you know. And uh, also it was always the insistence that the Beatles led something, you know. And if anything they were figureheads, you know. And, I put it more succinctly later on when I thought about it. When I said those statements A) I was bitter and upset; emotionally upset cause we just split up, you know. I call it a divorce right. But when I think about it, obviously…you know, I can change my mind.

John interviewed by Jean-François Vallée in April 1975.

Underground journalist Felix Dennis watched the session. ‘I remember Ringo getting more and more upset by this… I have a clear memory of him saying, “That’s enough, John.”’ Lennon and Ono competed to come up with the most insulting lines, Dennis said. ‘Some of it was absolutely puerile. Thank God a lot of it never actually got recorded because it was highly, highly personal, like a bunch of schoolboys standing in the lavatory making scatological jokes.’ ‘John would forgive himself, and expect Paul to forgive him,’ Derek Taylor recalled.

Peter Doggett, You Never Give Me Your Money: The Battle for the Soul of the Beatles. (2009)

I went through a period of trying to encourage Paul by writing and saying things that I thought would spur him on. But I think they were misunderstood. That's how "How Do You Sleep?" (on the "Imagine" album) was intended. Although I suppose it was a bit hard on him.

John Lennon Talks To Ray Connolly May 18th 1972 Radio Times

“At the moment he is cut off from the three of us. The last time I saw him was in December.” Asked whether he thought John Lennon’s recent unkind references to Paul on his “Imagine” album, had deepened the rift, George replied: “Maybe John felt like that about Paul at the time he was writing the song, but he doesn’t feel like that all the time. The song doesn’t represent what he really feels. It’s just John – people don’t really understand. “I think John’s record is great – though that track about Paul is a bit hard. But it’s only something felt at the time . . . ”

George Harrison, interviewed by Mike Hennessey for Record Mirror (October 16, 1971)

JOHN: (smiles) You know, I wasn’t really feeling that vicious at the time. But I was using my resentment toward Paul to create a song, let’s put it that way. He saw that it pointedly refers to him, and people kept hounding him about it. But, you know, there were a few digs on his album before mine. He’s so obscure other people didn’t notice them, but I heard them. I thought, Well, I’m not obscure, I just get right down to the nitty-gritty. So he’d done it his way and I did it mine. But as to the line you quoted, yeah, I think Paul died creatively, in a way.

John’s Playboy interview as published in the magazine’s January 1981 issue

He turned to me and told me that he had been equally vicious about Paul during the same period and that Paul had got it right when he had declared that the only person John was hurting with his vitriolic behavior was himself. It was not exactly an apology, more like an explanation.

Glyn Johns, Sound Man: A Life Recording Hits with the Rolling Stones, the Who, Led Zeppelin, the Eagles, Eric Clapton, the Faces… (2014)

“I have to ask you, what was all that stuff in the telegraph about?... And he’s gone oh yeah, look, speak to Paul about that, I wasn’t in a good place mentally at the time. Just speak to Paul about it…. I thought it was a real cop out because he had hurt me, he’d said something unfair, and rather than just apologise, what he basically said was I’ve apologised to Paul, and Paul’s accepted my apology for for my behaviour in that period, the immediate aftermath of the Beatles, and therefore speak to him and he will explain to you why you should forgive me”.

I am the EggPod guest Sam Delaney talking about a Get Back screening Q&A with Glynn Johns

“I’m trying to be mad at you, but you’re so nice, it isn’t easy,” Glyn replied. Then he explained that he had been upset by John’s comments about him in the “Lennon Remembers” interviews. John had said that Let It Be, which had been re-mixed by Glyn, had wound up sounding awful, and Glyn, a true professional, had been very offended by John’s comments. John did not remember saying it at all and he was very embarrassed. He explained, “I had just done primal therapy. I was just lettin’ off steam. That interview was just a lot of anger.” Glyn stared at John. John’s words had hurt him, and he had never expected that John would not remember what he had said, nor had he perceived that the comments would be dismissed as “just lettin’ off steam.” Like everyone else, he believed everything the public John said and took him very seriously. John repeatedly apologised to Glyn, and eventually the matter was dropped.

Loving John

“John’s most influential interviews, interviews which people took as gospel truth, were for John occasions to blow off steam and then to forget what he had said.”

May Pang, The Lost Weekend

At the time, we at Apple weren’t feeling good anyway, because Apple had failed; and here was one of our friends telling everyone who reads Rolling Stone that we were bastards. In the end we had to say, ‘Well, we’re not.’ John later retracted some of it, and we became friends again. And I forgave him. He would forget he’d said it, and expect to be forgiven, as he always was.

Derek Taylor, interview w/ Peter Doggett for Record Collector. (August, 1988)

John had gone through a tremendous upheaval in his private life, and he was a very odd person at times; he wasn’t at all himself. There was the famous interview he did for Rolling Stone, which has been reprinted many times, in which he says many unfair and untrue things, slagged everybody off, including me. I took him to task over it later on, asking him, “Why did you say all those things? It wasn’t very nice.” He said, “Oh, I was just stoned out of my head.” That was his only apology, really. Unfortunately, that has become history now; it’s accepted as the Bible.”

George Martin, interview w/ Howard Massey for Musician. (February, 1999)

“If you look at interviews and stuff with John, from around about that time he was in Imagine [documentary] he kind of admits that he’s having problems with himself. So, well, the first thing you do when you’re having problems with yourself is you bitch about someone else. And the closest person was me…He had a real go at me. I personally think it was ‘cause he was trying to clear the decks for Yoko. He’s got a new love, he’s trying to say to her, “Look, baby, I love you. I hate those guys.” And I think—you also have to remember John was going through a lot of problems. And you know, as they say, people, when they’re going through problems, come out with that kind of stuff. You know that, we all know that. When you’re in a bad mood, the first thing you do is badmouth somebody else. You don’t want to badmouth yourself…Some of the times, he was having other sorts of problems…So—like most of what John said, I take it with a pinch of salt. I love him still. I don’t care what he said, you know. Even if he badmouths me, I still know that he was a great guy, and that he loved me.”

Paul McCartney

#the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #mclennon

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poisonous-lemonade · 9 months

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hii, are you accepting requests right now? (if not, feel free to just ignore this😅)

I love the reactions you wrote for the obey me cast with child!mc!!

so I had this idea that the cast and mc don't have contact with each other after mc goes back to the human world (for whatever reason)

But when mc is like 20 they get teleported again to the devildom, so they see each other for the first time in years and mc is all grown up now, how would the brothers react to that?

A/N: AH- that's so cute 💛 Pt 2 will be out soon!

All Grown Up

MC tugged on Diavolo's hand, Barbatos by their side as they walked together to the portal, ready to send the young human back to the human realm. The brother awaits there, Mammon and Asmo on the verge of tears. Satan patting Asmo's back without much interest. Belphie, was more awake than usual when compared to the tall giant that was his twin, Beel, with dark circles under his eyes. Levi stuck next to Lucifer, rubbing his tears away before they get the chance to spill and Lucifer stood tall, his pride and loyalty holding him back from just stopping this entire thing.

"Do I have to go?" Mc asked, it had only been a year but that year spent with Mc was the best of the brothers' life, they got to have a younger sibling again, well, for some it was definitely a new experience.

Mc had spent their 6th birthday there, it was the best one they had ever had, even if the human competition was no match for Devildom celebration or festivities.

"I am deeply sorry, but you do, you may come back when you are older, yes?" Nodded Diavolo, bending down to the small child's height, fixing the small paper crown he had placed on their head. "Remember, we will always be here for you." Mc nodded her head at his kind words, although she did not understand them fully.

They understood that they had their pact marks and the protection of the Seven Brothers and the Royals of Devildom as well as high-ranking angels and an immortal sorcerer but they couldn't quite grasp it all.

"Will, will I see you all again?" Asked the small child, sending the emotional brothers into a crying fit, bawling into their jackets, their sleeves and (in Beel and Belphie's case) each other.

"Of course, you will, my dear, one day, I promise," Lucifer spoke, patting Mammon's back gently. "One day you will be older, and one day, we will see you again. I swear on it."

Mc was grown, plagued with memories of this place called 'Devildom', some imaginary place she had probably made up when their parent made them watch some biblical film, although they cannot remember it.

Not only were they plagued with memories, but they were also plagued with visions, one's that made almost zero sense until the right moment.

One time they could've sworn they saw a peacock in their room before a big speech, little did they know, but they were fueled with confidence when they were sent in front of the classroom which suddenly seemed so small, so hard to breathe, and yet they did it. They didn't get a high mark on the speech, but even they impressed themselves with that random boost of pride.

A couple weeks before, they saw an odd amount of crows outside their window, they then decided they would feed them like any 8-year-old would, oddly enough, the number was an even 12, even more odd was when 12 seemed to be their lucky number, they found 12 bills, 12 coins, 12 shiny rocks, 12 everything, it was strange to them but they was so grateful, they couldn't help but feel lucky.

But then a couple of months ago Mc had the strange feeling of being watched, like something in the shadows of their closet and the shadow of under the bed, but it felt warm and safe until they learnt it was a snake, then they were really scared, still, as her parents took it outside, she could’ve sworn things were missing from her, what an envious little snake.

Then after the peacock, Mc must've been imagining it because there was no way that there was a unicorn in their room, but their mane felt so real and soft and comforting, it even curled up on their lap like a cat as she read a story aloud, when it left however, just outside their window, it looked like a tornado had gone through it, it must've been a really angry unicorn.

Then almost immediately after, a scorpion was found in their mother's makeup box, its pinchers and stinger trying to put eye shadow on itself, it was almost funny if not terrifying, but MC couldn't just go up to their mother of the night, telling her that they stole her makeup box and that there was a scorpion in it, so they didn't, they just let it do its thing, it was almost loving to MC.

Then the next day a cow and bear appeared in their room, how did they even get in?! The bear was massive! Like it was so big it couldn't even make it through the window big and the cow was a cow! How did a cow get in with a big bear! The bear ate all of their food, they barely got a chance to taste it and the cow just slept on their lap. What a lazy and gluttonous duo.

A few years later, all those imaginary friends started to fade, the peacock's colour fading, the luck of crow stopping suddenly, and the snake came back, only for a moment, to give back her things, like they were always there. The unicorn rarely showed up but he always did when they were mad, he didn't anymore, and the weird scorpion suddenly disappeared one day, in front of their eyes. The bear and cow, who only slept and ate, stopped, they just sat around, not sleeping, not eating, not anything, before they just never showed up.

This was a great weight off MC's back, still, they couldn't feel like a part of them was suddenly missing, like a part of their life was suddenly gone.

But they were older now, they weren't going to let this get in the way of things. They were grown, an adult, a real adult, finally. They had high hopes for graduating this year, they might've been held back because of their 'disappearance' but this was their year.

Oh, how wrong they were.

Suddenly, like clockwork, they sat at their desk, the feathered pen in their hand, the golden rings on their fingers, and headphones wrapped around their neck, the floor began to cave in on itself, sending a spike of fear in MC before they jumped out of her chair, their heart beating fast, knocking over their skincare, the unicorn statue they kept around shattered, the cow and bear plushie tore apart from each other's arms, as the sinkhole grew, MC was frozen in place, their heart beating so fast that they could barely keep up with it as their room rumbled, they tried to stand up before falling back and into the black abyss.

"Welcome back, MC."

Pt 2 coming soon!

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