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evilminji · 3 months

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You know what's my JAM?

Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.

Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!

We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.

Ghosts? Less squishy.

Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.

Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!

If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.

But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.

.....

Oooooooooor..... >.>

He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.

Anyway!

Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.

And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.

Remember that little comment about extremes?

You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.

It's a glue trap.

But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.

I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....

Oh.

OH ANCIENTS, NO.

But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!

We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!

Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!

Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?

Knock Knock!

Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-

He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-

"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.

No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!

Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

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papurgaatika · 4 months

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Knead Me, Need You

Pairing: Massage Therapist! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: you were overworked, overstressed, and long overdue to get a massage. You just didn’t realize that getting one would come with a very good-looking massage therapist or the thoughts that filled your mind every time he touched you Tags: no outbreak AU, massage therapist! Joel, no reader desc. Gentle Joel, dirty thoughts, Joel is a tease, the reader is pent up as HELL, mentions of fingering, no actual sex, LOTS of sexual tension, pet names (darlin’ and sweetheart are used), Appreciation for Joel's arms, 18+ Word count: 2.7k

A/N: I very desperately need to get a massage and woke up from a dream about it so there’s that!! Also a huge lovely shoutout and thank you to my wonderful beta readers (@joelsdagger @carlynkurin and my lovely Laur) who have saved me from making the weirdest grammar mistakes and also fuel me with comments such as “IM (S)CREAMING” yall are real ones xoxo

Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! 🇵🇸

You hate your job. Okay, that wasn’t true. You don't hate your job, you just hate the commute. And sitting at your desk all day. And the fact that you always decide that heels look better with your outfits. So you didn't really hate your job, you loved being in charge, but your back was paying the price for it. Everyone in your life has heard you complain about your back hurting at least once. Some of your coworkers had found you with a stash of the stick-on heating patches in your desk and that led to the office pitching in to get you a certificate to one of the nicest spas in the area for your birthday.

You weren’t sure if you would use it, you barely had time to sit down and fully wash your face. How were you supposed to relax for a full hour and a half with some stranger touching you? The answer came to you one Saturday when you rolled out of bed and could barely stand because of a crick in your lower back. A groan falls from your lips before you throw yourself back onto your bed and grab your phone, making quick work of dialing the number on the back of the voucher. You let out a sigh of relief when the receptionist tells you they have availability later in the afternoon, and you tell her you’d take the appointment. You’re just about to hang up before her voice comes through your speaker again “Oh, and just to let you know, your therapist will be male, is that okay?”

You freeze for a second. On one hand, you didn’t love the idea of some random man touching you, especially considering it was a full-body massage. But on the other hand, you really didn't have a choice, your back was going to give out if you waited any longer. You mumbled out a quick “That’s fine, thank you!” before hanging up and making your way up to change your clothes. You decide to opt for something more casual, before grabbing your keys and wallet and heading out of the house.

This place was fancy. Like much fancier than you had expected and suddenly your outfit felt too casual and you missed your heels. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you filled out the forms they gave you. No, you haven’t had a massage before, yes you wanted to focus specifically on your back, and you weren’t sure how much pressure you wanted. You hand the clipboard back to the receptionist with a smile and she lets you know that he’s just about finished with his last client and he’ll come back for you in just a few minutes. Your knee is bouncing of its own accord, nerves finally kicking in. You are about to be naked in front of a man who is then going to rub his hands into you. Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that it’s his job. He does this all day, five days a week. You keep reminding yourself that it’s just a massage, you’ll be okay. You finally start to believe that, nerves dissipating and your heart settling back to its resting rate, and then you see him.

He’s all broad shoulders and a kind smile walking out to the main area, before turning in your direction, and your mind blanks for a minute to fully take in how attractive this man is. His arms were gorgeous and you couldn’t take your eyes off of them. His t-shirt was pulled tightly over his bicep, riding up just enough to let you see a peek of skin that was untouched from the Texas sun. His arms were thick, the muscles defined and prominent, veins standing out against the smooth skin. You were enraptured watching his arms move as he signed off on some papers and grabbed the clipboard with your forms on it. Images of his thick fingers in unspeakable positions flooded your mind; tugging at your hair while his other hand was on your hip, dragging over your lips and pushing them into your mouth, letting them curl into your aching cunt while he holds you down.

You were lost in your thoughts until his voice was saying your name and pulling you out of your depravity. You smile at him shyly and stand up to shake his hand “I’m Joel, and I'll be your masseuse for today, it’s a pleasure to meet you darlin’.” if you thought that he was attractive before, hearing that accent made you weak in the knees. The slow drawl of his words was smooth like honey and sent butterflies straight to your core. He takes the paperwork from the receptionist and gives it a quick scan before tutting at you lightly. “Overworkin’ yourself? Don’t worry, I'll take good care of you today.” You feel your face start to heat up as you follow him back through the halls into his room. You stepped inside to be met with a dim warm light, and soft music playing through a speaker.

“So is this your first time coming in for a massage?” he asks, half leaning against the door.

“Is it that obvious?” you half laugh, heat rising in the back of your neck. You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes locked on his. He laughed softly with a shake of his head and you think you might die on the spot. It’s so unfortunate that he’s so hot.

“No, darlin’ it said it on one of those forms they had you fill out, I just wanted to go over how it all works with you.” you nod and look up at the man, waiting for him to go on, “I know it said you wanted to focus on your back, do you mind goin’ a little bit into why?”

You sigh and press a hand into your lower back, “So I sit at work a lot, and granted my posture isn’t great, but I woke up this morning and it was worse than it had ever been” You tell him about your job, about being overworked, about your stupid half hour commute. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, only dropping to flick over your waist for a moment, and then back onto yours.

He lets you explain where exactly you were hurting before he glances at his watch and lets you know that you should get started sooner rather than later. “Just go ahead and get dressed down to your comfort level and then just lay down with your face in the cradle sweetheart. I’ll knock before coming back in and then we can get started.” You smile and give him a nod, taking a deep breath once the door shuts after him. You make haste to strip down and fold your clothes leaving them in a little pile on a shelf, leaving your panties on much too aware of the wetness that was pooling into them. You grab your phone and lay down on the table, scrolling through your email and replying to a few new ones from your coworkers, knowing fully well that they can barely get things done without you.

A knock on the door breaks you out of your thoughts and you let out a small noise of acknowledgment that you were ready, slightly hesitant. You watch as Joel opens the door and steps in, eyes immediately flicking to your phone. “Can’t have that out darlin’, this is your time to relax” he says gently, grabbing your phone and setting it down on the shelf next to your clothes. “I’m sure work can wait.'' He shoots you a wink and your face feels flushed. You let your face fall into the cradle, eyes shutting before you feel his hands grazing your body over the sheet slowly. He’s barely touching you, his touch is feather-light, so why do you feel like your body is on fire? His fingers make small circles on your scalp as his thumbs press gently into the base of your neck. Your eyelids flutter softly, the pressure he was applying immediately melting away your stress. His fingers work on your neck, not pressing too hard but not so soft that it wouldn’t help at all. You feel him work in the same place for a few minutes to get rid of a knot, likely from staring down at your phone or hunching over your computer all day, before he takes his hands away.

“Alright sweetheart I'm gonna move the sheet and start on your back, if that’s alright,” you nod into the face rest, letting out a deep breath when his hands hit your skin. You figured his hands would be as strong as the rest of him looks but he was surprisingly gentle and warm. The smell of roses and sandalwood fills your nose as his hands press softly between your shoulder blades. You let out a soft sigh when his fingers dig into your skin “That pressure alright darlin’?”

You manage to mumble out a weak “yes” and let your eyes fall shut again. You don't know why he’s doing this to you, why this man is making you all hot and bothered while he just does his job, but he is. His hands feel like heaven on your lower back, fingers creating circles to try and get a particularly nasty knot out right above your tailbone. A sound leaves your mouth, a little too close to a whimper for your liking and you feel the blood rush to your face but Joel doesn’t even mention it.

“You're real tense sweetheart, it’s a wonder you didn't have to come in before today” he mutters as his fingers work their way back up your spine. A trail of goosebumps follows after his touch as your back almost arches into his hands. Almost. You catch yourself at the last moment, sparing yourself from what would be the most embarrassing experience of your life and would also likely get you banned from the spa, which would truly be painful because lord, did Joel know how to use his hands on you. His fingers were soft yet somehow held just the right amount of strength in them to work your pain away, the way the heels of his palms would dig into your skin when he focused on a specific area, he was just too good at this and it was making you a little bit crazy.

Your eyes were still shut, your body more relaxed than it had ever been when you heard him tell you to flip over so he could work on your legs. In your half-asleep state, you seem to have forgotten that moving too fast will not only make your head spin but will also make the sheet covering you drop. You managed to catch it and pull it over your chest, eyes wide and staring at him. “Oh my god I'm so sorry-” you start but he cuts you off with a shake of his head before clearing his throat.

“‘s alright sweetheart” his eyes flick down to where you were clutching the sheet. Your breasts were spilling out of the top almost obscenely, a small sheen of sweat from the warmth of the table (and his hands) covering your skin. “Just lay back down, ‘m gonna work on those legs now.” He turns to grab the oil again, and you weren’t certain because of the dim lighting in the room, but you could have sworn there was a light blush dusting his cheeks. You lay down with your head in the rest, still clutching the sheet at your chest before he takes it out of your hands and brings it over your chest fully, leaving just your collarbone and neck exposed. He moves to a corner before picking up a bolster to put under your knees to prop them up slightly.

You let your eyes fall shut as you feel his hands skim your calf. You bite back a gasp when his hands, god his hands are huge, encompass your ankle and bring it up out of the sheet, bending it at your knee slightly. You wet your lips with your tongue and find your mouth drier than it had ever been as he moves your leg into a good position for him, your calf almost grazing his chest. You feel yourself clench around nothing and feel your panties dampen at the closeness of him. He lets your foot down, tucking the sheet under your hip so that it doesn't slip out from under you, and you can feel your heartbeat everywhere. His fingers were so strong yet so gentle on your calf, rubbing out the tightness in your legs. As his fingers made their way further up your leg you felt like you were on fire. His hands were pressing into the muscles, nails softly tracing against your inner thigh and it made you feel weak. You couldn’t get the image of those same fingers the ones that were trying to help you relax, rubbing circles over your clit or digging into your hips as he held you in place, out of your mind. It was filthy really, how pent-up you were. How depraved the thoughts you were having about this man, this stranger, were, but you couldn’t help the wetness pooling between your legs from growing. He presses into a specifically sore spot, dragging something between a yelp and moan from your lips. “I'm so sorry-” your words were quiet, barely audible over the light music he had playing in the room. “Don't worry about it sweetheart, just means I’m doing my job right” he was fucking with you. He had to know what he was doing to you. Had to know that while he was working on the muscles of your legs, you wanted those strong fingers inside of you, talking you through orgasm after orgasm with that sweet southern voice.

You close your eyes again, trying to stabilize your heart rate and keep it from pounding out of your chest “Alright sweetheart, I'm gonna wipe you off and then I’m sorry to say, but we are done for the session” You nod your head before feeling the warmth of a hot towel wipe against your legs, attempting to brush the idea of him wiping you up after pumping you full of his cum out of your mind. You take a few deep breaths before he turns the lights up slowly, letting you adjust to the change. “Alright, I'm gonna step out and grab you some water. I’ll meet you up by the front darlin’” You smile at him and say thank you before moving to change into your clothes, knees slightly wobbly from just thinking about him. Your panties are embarrassingly wet when you stand up, and you press your face into your hands trying to shake this out of your system.

You manage to step out of the room without having your knees give out, eyes still slightly blurry from being half asleep through the whole appointment, and walk back out to the reception. You blink a few times, adjusting to the much brighter lighting, and see Joel waiting for you with a cup of water. “Pleasure working on ya sweetheart, I hope I’ll see you again soon” You take the water and say your thank you to him before watching him walk back into the backroom, and oh my god was his butt always that cute?

You turn back to the receptionist with a smile, when she asks how the session went. “Good, yeah no everything was amazing” You bite on the inside of your cheek softly, the ghost of his fingers still on your skin. You get checked out, making sure to give him a hell of a tip and book another session with him in a few weeks. You take his card and twirl it around your fingers as you sit in your car. Joel Miller- Licensed Massage Therapist- Austin, TX. It was going to be a long hard few weeks without seeing him, but you had some ideas on how to keep yourself, and that dull ache in the pit of your stomach occupied, and every single one of them included thinking about Joel Miller and his fingers.

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

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probablyhuntersmom · 1 year

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My remaining long metas - Retraumatization vs. Self-Soothing (Part 2), another called Holding the Space, and the one where I interpret stuff more loosely than usual to explore Belos's impact on Luz and Hunter's experiences with mental illness - they're taking a while to do up.

But here's a treat in the meantime: one of the two main modalities I use with my clients (called Internal Family Systems, or IFS), used as a framework to understand Hunter's inner world. Modalities help therapists to make sense of clients' issues.

The first pic shows the parts of Hunter that are wounded or pushed to extremes: organized into three categories called Managers, Firefighters and Exiles. Exiles are suppressed and pushed aside because they are viewed as threats to the whole system. Any emotion in the Manager category prepares for difficulties in life (often over-preparing), Firefighter emotions are quick and reactive, showing up to try and soothe Exiles to try and rebalance the whole system, but are at risk of causing harm.

The second pic shows his Self, which can be said to be any person's true self and is restorative and positive. In therapy, using this framework is to 1. get Manager and Firefighter parts to stop suppressing the Exiles, 2. encourage Exile parts of a person to feel safe and express themselves, and 3. draw out the person's naturally restorative Self to lead the wounded/extreme parts of them towards feeling peace.

A therapist doesn't necessarily have to help every wounded part unless the client wants them to. Sometimes it's a bit tricky to tell the various parts apart, e.g. the line between Hunter's caretaker side (a Manager) and his natural compassion (Self) is a fine one. What to look out for is if he is taking care of others to avoid feeling worthless (an Exile). Usually once the Self is engaged, positive transformation can happen fairly quickly.

Anyway, don't mind my

-ing. Something for your minds to chew on while I work on the other metas.

----------

Update, 31/12/2023:

Whoopsie, I'll only finish and upload "Holding the Space" for perhaps the Watching and Dreaming anniversary in 2024. I was working on it very slowly but it simply wasn't flowing.

#toh hunter #the owl house #internal family systems #all the qualities in the Self section were definitely shown in his arc. but I just chose some scenes that stood out

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darkk-academic · 1 year

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Glance

[Morpheus x Reader]

Summary : A glance is all it takes. Everything turns, twists, the heart hypnotised and you? Flipped.

Warning : None.

A glance is all it takes. Everything turns, twists, the heart hypnotised and you? Flipped.

You walk among the throng of people—a red blot amongst the sea of black and grey.

It's raining, and you're the only one devoid of an umbrella's shelter, not because you forgot, no, but because you want to feel the rain.

Want the rain to seep past the cage of your mortal flesh, and seep into your core. Cleanse you anew, leave a blank canvas, absent of the exhaustion that comes with every aching ordinary breath.

I wish I had Hob's outlook, you think, turning the corner, striding into a less crowded area.

What would Hob say?

He'd probably tell me to stop and actually feel the rain.

You halt, sighing, you decide to give it a go. Stepping aside so that you don't block the road.

Tilting your face up, your eyes fall shut and you try. To feel.

Cold air kisses your cheeks and nose, curls around your ears, you can hear the splash of puddles beneath the boots, the low whisper of breeze and breaths entangling.

The rain pours down on you, droplets touching your face.

And you feel—you feel…watched.

Your head snaps down, hairs at the nape of your neck prickling in caution.

Opening your eyes—raindrops catching in your lashes, through blurry lens you see something black, grey and dreary.

You blink.

Under the archway stands a tall figure, all black, but not grey as you previously thought, he appears white, shining, but dreary all the same.

He steps forward, into the lamplight's illumination.

Your gaze locks with haunting blues.

The rain falls down between the two of you.

You feel hazy, as though pulled under a waking dream.

The raindrops trace the contours of your face, dripping down, nestling near the corner of your lips.

You breathe out, fog escaping past your lips, filling your vision.

In the mist he's lost.

Frowning, you start walking again. Tugged away from reality, still in the bubble of that moment.

•••

The sun is playing hide and seek with the clouds.

You are walking to the inn you work in, paying attention to every single thing.

The sound of leaves crunching beneath your feet, the humming of breeze in your ear, the smell of dewy morning invading your senses with every breath.

Eyes scanning the park you're walking past—

Shine.

There he is.

The stranger from a few nights back.

It's vain to even attempt ignoring him, to act like that one moment hasn't been flickering underneath your conscience, always coming up to fill the empty mind.

It's absurd to obsess over something so trivial. But it's the truth. In the boredom of everyday, that moment is a story in itself.

He's pale and black and haunted under your curious eyes.

As though he can sense it, his gaze locks on yours.

You hold his stare, as you keep walking, head turning to maintain the contact.

A miniature flutter arises near the sternum, tickling and warm.

His head turns too, seemingly unwilling to end the contact.

The blood in your veins rushes, staining you red all over.

Something flashes in his eyes, but you've to turn the corner—

You look away, biting your lip.

You've work to do.

•••

He's here.

What are the odds, you think, chewing your lip, you peek out from the storage room.

And that's not all.

He's sitting with Hob.

Your life mentor, Hob. Your unpaid therapist, Hob. Your friend Hob.

Really, what are the odds…

Shaking your head, you step out of the room, ready to take orders.

Unwitting, your eyes once again land on him.

Only to find him looking right at you.

Your head goes hazy, breath hitching slightly, and you're once again adorning the shade of crimson.

Pulse stuttering, you bite the inside of your cheek, moving at the call of a customer you look away.

Your co-worker comes to you as you're preparing another order.

"I'll take this. Could you please prepare this," passing the notepad, "for Hob?"

They leave before you've a chance to protest.

Few minutes later, you hover around the corner, order in hand.

It's not a big deal, you tell yourself. Just an order.

As soon as you're near Hob's table, your gaze locks with his, your heart stumbles.

Except it is a big deal.

Inhaling sharply, you square your shoulders. Striding forward, faking confidence.

Hob flashes you a warm smile, it soothes your frenzied nerves a bit.

You're glad he doesn't say anything to you, knowing your reluctance to speak in public. It's small things like these that make you happy to have Hob as your friend.

You lean down to place the orders.

His gaze presses against the side of your face; insistent, heavy, silently demanding. The intensity of it has you swallowing hard.

Stepping back, you give Hob a smile before turning away.

Your back burns, as you hear the accelerating beats of your heart that despite your nervousness seem to sing :

LookatmeLookatmeLookatmeLookatme—

You look at him over your shoulder.

Eyes locking with haunting blues.

Something unfurls then, somewhere between him to you. Something unfurls and something forms, a knot of sorts—Catharsis of a story yet to be written.

You look to the front.

Shaky exhale escaping past your lips.

You feel burned anew, cleansed blank. His gaze doing what the rain could not.

•••

You see him again.

A few weeks later, at night as you're leaving the inn, being done for the day.

He stands on the other side of the road.

There's something different about him, something less dreary and more—

A challenging curl to his lips.

—daring.

Your eyes lock with his.

Except they aren't just eyes.

His eyes aren't just normal, alluring blue eyes.

They appear to hold untold stories of the cosmos itself.

And well, you've always been fond of stories.

Meeting his stare with an audacious one of your own.

You move towards him.

A glance is all it takes. Everything turns, twists, the heart hypnotised and you? Flipped.

………………………………………………………………………

A/N:

The art of eye contact. Eye contact is something that has been romanticized. I wanted to write my own version of it, so here it is!

Is the romantic tension palpable? Did I do it right? Lemme know.

Hope you guys enjoyed this.

Thankyou! ❤️

#dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #the sandman imagine #the sandman oneshot #lord morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus #the sandman

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blorbocedes · 1 year

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inspired by @sionisjaune's tags and THIS nico in glasses art by the incredibly talented @movieboyfriend

Becoming a sports psychologist had been easier than Nico expected.

All he needed was a bachelor's, which he already had, and a Masters' degree which took 18 months and submitting a paper on eating disorders to achieve. Board certification was annoying, Nico just doesn't have that kind of time, but the workaround was simply calling himself a 'performance enchancing counselor.' A corner office in Monaco, a shiny plaque with his name on it, and a star studded roster of athletes and C-list celebrities he'd hosted parties for during his influencer days for potential clientele, he was all set.

F1 hadn't been the goal but at the same time... who better than Nico, who knew exactly how motorsport could chew you out? His karting dreams were long over, but the smell of gasoline and burnt tyres and the roar of the crowd is still his forte. It just so happened Formula One decided mental health awareness was totally in style now, and one of their main sponsors held an event on mindfulness and how it can be achieved drinking more Heineken. Having a father for a World Champion is helpful, when it means one has lifetime passes, and this had been a prime networking goldmine; not for the drivers themselves and their fragile egos at the implication of psychological help -- but sliding his practice's embossed gold card in the suit jacket of one Toto Wolff.

Lewis saw therapy as something good and necessary, but ultimately for other people. And then Abu Dhabi happened. And then the W-13. And Toto had mentioned what Keke Rosberg's son was up to, how it could possibly help him out of his slump, and hearing that name after so long made Lewis' usual 'thanks but not for me' die at the tip of his tongue.

"I'm not going to imply whether all your issues stem from trying to make your father proud or ask you about your childhood. I would remember. I was there." Nico had smiled over his thin-rimmed circular glasses, with that knowing sparkle during their first unofficial session and Lewis was sold.

"As long as you don't expect me to call you 'doctor,' man. Jeez, who would've thought? Dr. Nico Rosberg."

After that, every week unless he's in LA, Lewis finds himself in Nico's chic Monaco office. It's not stuffy like a therapist's office; a turquoise wall and Nico's dad's helmet is on a shelf display, a German national Team jersey hanging on the wall, there's even a YouTube million subscribers golden plate. Lewis is sprawled on the bean bag, the sunlight from the floor to ceiling windows hitting in beams, and not for the first time Lewis has to reconcile the kid he knew has grown up into the adult in distinguished glasses and same golden blonde hair in front of him. Nico dresses like he's about to give a TedTalk, in his monochrome tee and blazer combo, and that somehow puts Lewis more at ease.

"The car's been so fucking shit. I'm not here to fight for, what, p10? That's not me. And the team..." Lewis rants, and it's so freeing to be able to call the car shit without adding in how they're improving bit by bit and other optimistic platitudes that don't mean shit in terms of the championship.

"And the team's been prioritizing Russell over you, I can see how that can be a source of frustration." Nico finishes.

"What? No. He's not -- the team's not. I'm saying, it's annoying enough the car isn't where we were promised it was gonna be, and now every week I'm getting asked if I want to retire, like what's this all for?" Lewis is momentarily taken aback by Nico's claim. Is that what people think? The team... well, George has adapted to the car easier and has been finishing above him but he hadn't felt any particular favouritism from the team... Although he's been the one running experimental setups and helping the team collect data while his teammate gets dubbed Mr. Saturday. The seed of doubt towards the team makes him frown.

"You don't want to retire. Not until the 8th." Nico points out decisively, getting up from his armchair to walk behind Lewis where his plants are.

"I don't. Even if no one believes me, apparently." Lewis rolls his eyes, hearing as Nico spritzes his plants. He could've sworn they were fake.

Lewis feels a hand on his shoulder, surprising him. "You're just going to have to prove them wrong. Like you always do." Nico smiles down at him with absolute conviction, squeezing it once, and then the weight is gone; Nico moving back to his chair.

The gesture was friendly, but it makes something flare inside Lewis. Something about Nico, maybe the fact he can open up to him the way he can't even with the team; maybe because Nico knew him before seven titles, before he was anyone, makes Lewis instinctively trust him in a way he rarely does with new people. But Nico isn't new, even if the glasses are. Lewis finds himself wanting to know more, wanting to fill the gap between the years.

"Now, let's go over your daily mindfulness affirmations..."

#his ass is NOT board certified 😂🤣😂🤣😂#I've been watching hannibal again can you tell #Nico isn't a doctor but he also doesn't correct anyone if they call him that...#medical malpractice my beloved #I'm gonna let you guys interpret this one 🫣#my fics #f1 rpf #brocedes #first thing I've written in a hot second 😳 require praise...

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marvelmcumania · 1 month

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You are my only love - Part 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem Reader Summary: This life's fate wasn't meant for both of you but the next did! WORD COUNT:1.4k Setting: Modern World and The 80s

A reincarnation au fic. Hello Everyone this is my first fic on Tumblr and there will be mistakes, so forgive Updates won't be frequent will be updated at any time English is not my first language Do not repost Feel free to reblog and let me know your thoughts

NO WARNING AS OF NOW

Navigation | Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist |Steve Rogers Masterlist

They say we somehow always meet in the next life and this was the same thing with Steve Rogers and Y/N L/N a tale of tragic love but a tale of love that becomes one of the best things ever happened to them.

Sweetheart, I will always be with you

You are my only love

Present

You woke up from your nightmarish dream again. And it has happened daily since you were 10 years old at first your parents consoled you but when it started increasing whenever you took a nap they decided to take you to therapy and yet still the therapist couldn't help. The scream of the deep blue eyes which felt familiar looking concerned at you and then blood pooling down from both of your bodies.

It made you feel real that the person's sinister eyes held a great obsession for you, whereas this blue-eyed man held a deep love for you. Sighing you got up from the bed rubbing your eyes.

"Why does this happen to me?"

You entered the kitchen taking a glass of water taking a sip of it.

"Are you okay there?" Natalie your roommate was sitting on the sofa watching her late-night show.

You whipped your head looking at her and shook it giving her a smile that didn't reach your eyes." Nah I am good" keeping the glass on the shelves "What are you watching?" you said taking a seat beside her.

"F.R.I.E.N.D.S" she nonchalantly said handing you the popcorn box

You took the popcorn "One of my favorite shows"

"Mine too" You both laughed when Joey wore all of Chandler's clothes. Forgetting the dream for the moment

The next you woke up on the sofa checking your phone it was 7:00 AM shrugging you set it aside looking straightforward and sighing weirdly you didn't get the nightmare again Looking sideways Natalie was sprawled on the other side of the couch TV sound dimmed.

"Hey Natalie" you whispered trying to wake her up she blinked her eyes looking at you. "Uhm it's 7:00 AM and you have your office timing at 11:00 AM it's better if you sleep some more in your room."

"Oh thanks" she yawns taking the remote and switching it off. She gets up stretches her body and reaches her bedroom stopping midway you were scrolling on your phone looking at the schedule. "Y/N?"

You looked up from your phone" Yeah?"

"At night time you were murmuring something about 'save me' 'please don't kill him' and 'I will never marry you' Like were you having a nightmare?" Your eyes widened at what Natalie said even though it wasn't in the visuals you still had it.

"Oh?" your eyebrows furrowed this was now going out of hands "I don't remember it"

"I think it's something more than that Y/N/N" You raised your eyebrow at her "Look I don't know how to say this but it's something related to your past lives"

"There is nothing like past lives Natalie" You went back to your phone heart beating radically. "These are some weird rumors and conspiracy theories"

"Y/N/N" she called you out making you look up once again "They aren't and it's a different thing also known as reincarnation. I read that on the internet"

"And is there scientific proof" You were now getting irritated was she now making fun of you she became quiet for a moment.

"I wish I could have proved but don't come running near me when your therapist thinks about it"

You scowled at her, looking back down to your phone and chewing your lips. Natalie sighed and went back to her bedroom. What if Natalie was right that this is something related to past life but you ignored her.

You get up from the sofa get ready for your office and resume your daily routine of brushing your teeth and having a good bath You come out and pick up your outfit of the day. Combing your hair making it into a messy bun. Well, you didn't have an appetite for breakfast and the only thing that would help her now was coffee. The best thing is to watch until the shop opens the park scenery.

You were never a fan of morning walks, but to clear your mind and reach your office straight away, you decided to take two rounds and sit on a bench and mull over Natalie's talk with you. Taking out your phone, you typed about it to clear your doubt, and as you thought, well, it's 50 50 to believe in reincarnation theories.

You were looking ahead, lost in your own thoughts. When you felt something down your leg looking down, you saw a cute dog sniffing around your leg and nudging his body around your legs.

"Oh hey, bub" you bought your hand to check whether he trusted you. The dog looked at you bringing his nose near your hand and sniffed you making sure you weren't any bad guy and showed you his head and scratched his head "Are you lost bub?" looking at his collar his owner must be here somewhere.

"DODGER" The dog turns to the source of sound his tail slightly wagging "DODGER WHERE ARE YOU?"

"I guess the screaming man is your owner huh?" The dog just huffed not getting too interested in their owner's voice "Don't tell me you had a fight" you chuckle seeing the dog growling meaning they indeed had some fight. "Okay how about we go near him and make him tell you sorry with huge treats"

You began to drag the dog who was hesitant at first but soon made up your speed and soon enough you came face to face with the yelling man who was out of breath

"Hey" you yelled at the man who turned to look at you before you could make a move you stood there seeing the man but the dog began dragging you breaking your concentration and almost making you fall "Hey bub calm down"

"Oh my God Thank you, "the man says squatting down to give some scratches to the dog "Never do that again Dodge you scared me you want the toy I will buy you but" he hugs him "Never leave" You are looking at their interaction when the man glances up at you "Thank You Again"

Your breath hitches looking at the man his blue eyes giving you a familiar face the man in your dreams. You just nod at him giving him a smile "A very active dog I see"

"Yeah" he chuckles "and when I decline something of his favorite he just runs away"

You give him a smile and look back at the dog giving him a small ear scratch you are scared to look at him what if he remembers you what if the dream you always had has been the same it's been more than 2 minutes and you can already feel the sparks and connection the attraction towards him.

Before he could say anything your phone started ringing disrupting your talk It was from your colleague Natasha "Uhm Sorry I need to pick this up"

"Yeah sure" he nods giving you a similar smile you always have seen in your dream.

You pick up the call "Hey Nat!" answering when a screeching sound comes behind the caller.

Where are you?

"Uhm at the park?" You turned back before giving an apologetic smile to Steve. Hearing a huff from her "What is it, Nat?"

Do you realize what the time is now? We will be late for the office

Taking a look at the watch it was indeed late for you and you needed to catch the bus how much time did you spend here maybe the thinking made you late "Okay I will be right there just wait for me Okay?"

Yeah, hurry up!

You cut the call turning to the man who had been standing, you were surprised to find him gone along with his dog. A shiver ran down your spine as you scanned the area, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Questions stirred in your mind as you tried to make sense of his sudden disappearance. Had he simply walked away while you were distracted?

But with that, you felt more connected with him the man from your dream who looked exactly the same with furrowed eyebrows you left the question lingering in your mind and then left the park to meet Natasha at bus stand.

NEXT...

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destiny-fics · 1 year

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Mixtape #4

[Seo Changbin x Fem!Reader]

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, college!au

Pairing: Seo Changbin x Reader

Summary: After the events of the past few months, you finally pay another visit to your therapist Sana. She suggests that you listen to the mixtape’s final song, and see this journey through before you begin to patch things up with Changbin and act like the tape never existed. You take her advice and go to Chan and Jisung for help finding the last song, realisations are promptly made and the true identity of your mixtape maker is revealed.

Warnings: smut, pet names: baby, sweetheart, protected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, making out, Changbin’s hot and y/n makes sure he knows it, swearing, Jisung is an idiot, the smut is very dream-like and super fluffy but I like it that way, dirty talk, both the reader and Changbin are described/describe themselves as desperate for the other, some crying

General Taglist:@hiseu @yeosayang @avyskai @whatudowhennooneseesyou @foxdaisy @lickslixie @maskedmochiii

Series Taglist: @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @brit97 @bbyboychanyeol @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream @snapcracklen @nightmarej1n @shadycheesecaketrash

Part of the Mixtape Series

Series Masterlist

A/n: well, here we are, finally at the end of Mixtape. I genuinely can’t thank you all enough for the love and support you’ve all shown this work. It has been my brain child for quite some time and to finally have it all out in the world to share with you all is genuinely making me a little bit emotional. I hope you all enjoy this final part 💕

"It's been a while since you visited me Miss y/l/n, I was starting to think you'd forgotten where my office was."

You smiled a little bit at Sana's attempt at a joke, sitting across from her in the squishy pink armchairs she had always had in her office. Sana had been your therapist for three years, but lately, with all the mixtape and Changbin things going on, you'd been neglecting to see her.

But now, as you picked at a loose thread on Sana's couch, you realised that maybe you should have been visiting her more, especially with everything which had happened lately.

"Yeah. There's been…a lot that happened."

Sana nodded "Would you like to talk about it?"

You chewed your lip for a bit, before nodding. Yes, the reason you had come to Sana today was to talk, but she knew you and she knew that unless prompted, no matter what your intentions were for visiting, that you would beat around the bush. When Sana motioned for you to speak you sighed, launching into the entire story. You finding the mixtape in the library, it melting in Changbin’s tape player, each song you had found and how they connected to you, the letters, the fight with Changbin and Chan's involvement in your mixtape. When you had finished, Sana gave you a nod before putting her notepad down and leaning forward, chin on her hands.

"Do you want to know what I think?"

You nodded "you know I do."

"Even if what I say might upset you?"

"Sana I trust you, completely."

"Okay. You know you hurt Changbin by assuming that Chan was the tape maker right?"

"Of course I do, I just don't know why."

"Have you ever considered the possibility that perhaps Changbin shares the feelings you have for him? And that is why he got so upset."

"I don't understand though. Changbin is…the perfect guy. Why would he have feelings for me?"

"Why shouldn't he? Y/n, we've spoken about this before. You keep putting Changbin on a pedestal because you're scared of facing your feelings for him, or facing the reality that he has feelings for you too. You don't want to lose him, so you're making him unobtainable. That way, if he rejects you, which I don't think he will, you won't be surprised."

You knew she was right, Sana was always right. You nodded a little wiping some stray tears from your eyes. "Are you even allowed to say that as my therapist?"

Sana laughed softly "maybe not. But I'm not speaking as your therapist right now, I'm speaking as your friend. And as someone who can't keep watching you hurt yourself like this."

"I am hurting myself aren't I?"

Sana nodded again "you are dear. And you're hurting him."

"I don't want to hurt him. I never want to hurt him. I love him."

"I know you do. Which is why you need to talk to him. And why you need to listen to the rest of that mixtape."

"What do you mean?"

"You said you had one song left to go correct?" At your nod, Sana continued speaking. "Then I think you need to listen to it. Regardless of who made it, of what the message at the end is, I think you should hear it, see this through."

You nodded again, feeling as if you were doing an awful lot of that this session. "But I can't find the last song, anywhere."

Sana hummed softly, looking out the window of her office to where Jisung and Chan were sat outside, waiting to walk you home. "You're friends with musicians right?"

"So, let me get this right, Sana thinks you should listen to the last song? Even with all this Changbin stuff?" You nodded at Jisung's question, tucking your hands into the pockets of your jacket as the three of you walked towards your apartment.

"Mhm. She also thinks I need to talk to Binnie."

"Well, we could have told you that," Chan smiled, bumping your shoulder with his good-naturedly. "But we can't help with that."

"What we can help with however," Jisung grinned, handing you his phone and some headphones "is finding that last song."

"You…" you looked between Chan and Jisung, eyes wide. "You guys know the last song?"

"Well duh," Jisung grinned. "Changbinnie recorded it in our studio, how could we no-ow! Hyung!" Jisung glared at Chan, who had not so subtly elbowed him in the ribs.

"Jisung, bro! You just," Chan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You just ruined the whole fucking thing. Changbin's going to kill you."

Jisung had the sense to look apologetic. You, however, were still wide-eyed, looking between Chan and Jisung.

"What…what do you mean?"

"Look," Jisung quickly put the headphones in your ears. "Just, just pretend I didn't say anything." He gave you an awkward smile, putting his thumbs up. Chan sighed again, face in his hands. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears and your fingers shook as you pressed play on the file on Jisung's phone.

There was silence for a little while, before Changbin's voice filled your ears.

"Um…hey y/n," Changbin sounded nervous and unsure and it made you smile, even as you felt your eyes begin to mist up again. "Fuck, I'm…I'm not good at this, and Jisung and Chan won't shut up and…" the Changbin through the phone sighed, before laughing a little. "God, I don't even know where to begin with this whole thing, I guess that's why I made the mixtape in the first place. I guess the first thing would be to say, that I love you. I've always loved you, ever since you bumped into me and sent all my music flying across the courtyard I've loved you. Is that realistic? Probably…probably not, I don't know what Sana would say to you about that," you laughed a little bit and Chan and Jisung stopped arguing over which one of them messed up the surprise to look at you, small smiles on their faces. "But the point is," Changbin's voice continued "is that I love you. And I'm going to keep loving you, forever. And that…that kind of scares the shit out of me, but it also makes me incredibly excited. Because I just can't see my life without you in it and even if you don't feel the same way, that's okay, but I really can't keep going on acting like I'm not in love with you. Like I won't always be in love with you, because I will always be in love with you."

You ripped Jisung's headphones out of your ears as the recording cut and shoved the phone back into Jisung's hands.

"Shit! I've just made a huge mistake," you grinned at Jisung and Chan before turning on your heel and taking off.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"I've gotta go find Changbin!" You shouted at him over your shoulder. "I know who the mixtape maker is!"

Finding Changbin had, actually, been far easier that you had expected. Changbin's apartment building was a finite area and as he wasn't in his apartment or the gym, there was only one other place he could be. You cursed whoever designed the rooftop terrace to have no elevator up to it as you pushed through the entrance door.

"Binnie," your voice was shaky as the man's name left your mouth and he turned to face you, looking the most nervous you had ever seen him.

"Y/n…what, what are you doing here?"

"The mixtape…I know it was you."

Several emotions crossed Changbin's face once the ball dropped, ending with him looking at you like you were the most beautiful person on the planet. You were sure you didn't look like it at the moment, sweaty, red faced and still puffing a little from the stairs, but with the way Changbin was looking at you, you couldn't help but feel gorgeous.

"So what did you think?"

You laughed softly, looking up at the sky "What did I think? What did I think? I think that I'm in love with you Changbin. Scratch that, I know I'm in love with you. That night, at the 3racha show, I wanted to go home with you, but I was so scared of losing you as a friend if something went wrong between us. Not having you in my life at all was more painful than having my heart broken for a little while. But it hurt so, so much and not just for a little while, every time I saw you I was reminded of what I couldn't have."

"What do you mean you couldn't have me?" Changbin stepped forward to take your hands in his. "Y/n, you could always have me, any way you want. Every single way you want."

"Sana says I was putting you on a pedestal, making you unobtainable, because it was easier to do that then think about you rejecting me. And she was right, I was doing all of that."

Changbin nodded slowly "but you know I'm not perfect right? I'm loud and don't really know when to stop and I'm a gym bro and-" you cut Changbin off by pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. Changbin was effectively rendered speechless and you giggled softly at him.

"I know Binnie, I know all of that. But that stuff about you has never bothered me. In fact I like that you're loud and that you joke around, because even if you go too far, you always stop abd apologise when someone says something about it and as for the gym bro thing," you slid you hand from where it was cradling Changbin's cheek to his bicep, squeezing the muscle appreciatively. "Well that is definitely not something to dislike about you."

"You really think so?" Changbin sounded unsure and you nodded.

"I've always thought so. Changbin I love you, I really mean that. I'll shout it from this roof if you need me to."

Changbin laughed softly, leaning in to kiss you once more "I don't need that, I believe you," he grinned. "Although I wouldn't mind seeing you shout how much you love me from the rooftops."

You raised an eyebrow, pulling away from Changbin before turning around and looking out over the city. Changbin looked confused "what…what are you doing?"

You grinned at him over your shoulder "oh nothing, just doing what you want me to." You blew Changbin a kiss before turning back to face the city. "I'm in love with Seo Changbin!!" You yelled, making the man in question jump in surprise and then laugh. "I love him so much!" You squealed in delight as Changbin wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you close to his chest. You turned around in his arms, grinning at him. "I'm so, so in love with him I want to be his girlfriend and kiss him all the time and get married to him and have his babies."

"You…you really mean that?"

"All of it? Yeah."

"Even the…the marriage and kids bit?"

You smiled softly, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of Changbin's neck. "Maybe not right this second, but eventually, yes. I mean the marriage and kids bit too."

Changbin grinned, before leaning down to kiss you deeply, hands resting gently on your hips. "Good," he whispered against your lips. "Because I meant what I said in that recording. I can't see myself loving anyone but you."

"Well, just for the record, I can’t see myself loving anyone but you either.”

Changbin didn’t respond to that, instead choosing to lean down and kiss you again, deeper than his previous kisses. It was similar to that first kiss you’d shared all those years ago, passionate and emotional, full of everything you couldn’t say, everything you coul, and everything you didn’t know how to say. Changbin slid his hand from your hip to rest on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh there. You gasped, pulling away and looking at him with your eyes slightly dilated.

Changbin smirked, giving you a small wink “You uh…want to go back to my place?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The walk downstairs and back to Changbin’s apartment took far longer than it usually did, almost every step you both took punctuated by a giggly kiss. You had attached your lips to Changbin’s neck as he tried to open the door to his apartment, sucking pretty purple bruises into his skin. Your hands traveled over his arms and torso and Changbin gave a full body shudder as he finally managed to open the door, immediately tugging you inside and to his room. You attached your lips back to his, the two of you stumbling backwards towards Changbin’s bed. Once your knees hit the end of his bed you let yourself fall backwards, Changbin bracing his hands on either side of you so he didn’t fall completely on top of you. It didn’t seem to bother you much though, and you reattached your lips almost immediately, hands sliding down Changbin’s torso and underneath his shirt so you could feel the layers of muscle on his body. Changbin groaned into your mouth as you touched him, muscles tensing underneath your ministrations.

“Want it off?” He hummed softly, referring to his shirt and you nodded enthusiastically. Your enthusiasm made Changbin laugh softly and he sat up to rid himself of his shirt, tossing it over his shoulder. You sat up a bit to gawk at him, mouth open in complete awe. Yes, you’d always found Changbin extremely attractive, but there was something about the expanse of delicious muscle and tanned skin which had your mouth watering and your brain completely melted.

“Binnie, you…you. You’re…wow.”

Changbin laughed, unconsciously flexing a little “is that a good wow or a bad wow?”

“A good wow. Changbin,” your hand twitched as you reached out to smooth it over Changbin’s chest and down his stomach “You’re fucking gorgeous.” You glared up at him. “Why were you hiding all this from me?”

Changbin chuckled awkwardly, but not before leaning over you to press you back into his bed. “I thought you weren’t interested, remember?”

“Well, I was,” you gulped at the tone Changbin’s voice had taken, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Very, very interested.”

“I know that now baby, and trust me, I’m going to make good use of it,” Changbin ducked down to begin pressing hot, wet kisses to your neck, gently biting and sucking at the skin to leave his mark on you, the same way you left yours on him. You gasped as he bit into the juncture between your shoulder and neck, hips bucking up into Changbin’s.

“Binnie…” your whine of his name had Changbin moving away from your neck to look at you.

“What is it sweetheart? Need more?”

Your nodded and Changbin grinned, fingers skimming your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. The action made you shiver, Changbin’s grin only widening. “Yes please.”

“So polite sweetheart. Is it alright if I undress you?” At your nod Changbin helped you sit up, ridding you of your shirt and shorts, tossing them to join his own shirt on the floor. He sat back on his heels, just admiring your body. Every dip, every curve, it all laid out for him, for just him. This was better than anything he had dreamed before, because this was you. And this was real.

“What are you looking at?” You giggled softly, head tilted.

“Nothing, just you,” Changbin laid you back down again, beginning to press kisses to the swell of your breasts and down your stomach, looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“All yours,” came your breathy voice as Changbin reached the hem of your panties.

“Exactly,” he whispered, spreading your legs gently, groaning as his eyes zeroed in on the wet spot which had formed right in the centre. “Oh you are desperate for me aren’t you?”

You whined in embarrassment, even as your hips kicked up in a plea for Changbin to do something, anything, to relieve the pressure between your legs. “You know I am,” you whined again “Binnie don’t tease.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it baby,” Changbin hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your push through your panties, grinning once more at the soft gasp which escaped your lips. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long, I’m just as desperate for you as you are for me.”

Maybe even more desperate, he thought, after he’d finally gotten your panties off and had his face buried between your legs, licking and sucking at your pussy and clit, drinking up the most delicious cocktail of your juices, paired with your sweet symphony of soft moans and begging. He ate you out like you were his last meal, like he needed you to survive. And perhaps he did. Perhaps you were Changbin’s lifeline, his soft light when everything else seemed dark. You certainly looked like his light now, almost completely fucked out as he spread you open onhis fingers and tongue. He wanted to make you cum in his face like this…no, he needed you to cum in his face like this, but when you pushed his head away with a desperate plea for him to fuck you, well how could Changbin deny such a sweet request?

It felt torturous waiting for Changbin to rid himself of his sweatpants and slip a condom on over his erection, red at the tip, rock hard and leaking precum, but when he finally pushed into you the time didn’t matter anymore, because alll you were feeling was sweet, sweet relief. Changbin’s hiss tapered off into a low groan as he slowly pushed himself inside you and he buried his head into your neck once he had bottomed out in a weak attempt to calm himself down so that he didn’t instantly blow inside of you. You hummed softly, allowing yourself to get used to the stretch of having Changbin so deep inside you and you stroked his back gently. “It’s okay Binnie,” you purred to him. “You move whenever you need to, you feel so good.”

The two of you let out twin groans as Changbin began to rock his hips, pushing his cock deep inside of you and then dragging it out. The pace was almost torturous, just enough to give you pleasure, but not enough to get you anywhere. You whined again, similar to the way you had earlier, begging for Changbin to speed up.

“Fuck me hard Binnie, please. You can make love to me later just, just fuck me for now.”

“Fuck…fuck yeah of course,” Changbin groaned, beginning to fuck you just the way you wanted. You had to give it to him, when Changbin did something, he always gave it a hundred percent, and you were pleased to find out that translated from his daily life into the bedroom. His thrusts were deep and fast, punching a desperate moan out of you with each thrust inside. His face was concentrated as he flicked between watching your face and watching the place where he was connected to you, his cock sliding in and out of your soaking hole at a brutal pace.

“There we go,” he groaned out after a particularly hard thrust which had you crying out in pleasure. “That’s what you wanted right? My pretty baby wanted me to fuck her all dumb? Well don’t worry, I can do that.”

“Promise?“ you brought Changbin’s lips to your own, gasping against his mouth when his fingers began to rub tight little circles on your clit.

“I promise. Fuck I’ll do anything you ask of me. We,” he moaned, voice deep and heavy. “We have all the time in the world.”

As the words left Changbin’s mouth, you were hit with the realisation that you did have all the time in the world. You were together. This wasn’t some dream that you’d wake up from tomorrow morning and be all alone again. This was real.

You didn’t even have time to warn Changbin as your orgasm washed over you, moaning his name loudly as you came. Changbin wasn’t far behind you though, fucking you through your orgasm even as his own pulsed through him, making him spill into the condom. He stilled inside you as he rode the last few waves out, before pulling out of you and taking off the condom, depositing it in the bin beside his desk. You cuddled into his chest immediately after he laid back down next to you, tracing little nonsensical patterns into his skin.

“So…” you began softly, drawing Changbin’s attention to you. “You’re a better actor than I thought.”

Changbin laughed a little, kissing your forehead. “I’m sorry about that, I just wanted you to come to the conclusion on your own. What’s a mystery mixtape if it’s maker isn’t a mystery?”

“Did you plan the whole thing? The tape melting, the letters, Chan’s song?”

“Chan’s song being on there yes, but the other stuff, no. You don’t want to know how panicked I was when that tape started melting.” You giggled, curling further into his chest.

“I think I have a small idea," you sighed softly, pressing a kiss to his chest "I should have realised it was your handwriting in the letters.”

“Honestly I thought you would have. It was ot the most well thought out plan b. How did you realise it was me anyway?”

“Ah well, I didn’t exactly do it. Sana suggested I listen to the last song on the tape, just to see what the final message was. So I asked Jisung and Chan about it on our walk home. Jisung let slip that you recorded it in the studio.”

Changbin sat up a bit and you slid down his chest, now looking up at him “he what? Fucking Han Jisung.”

“Hey don’t get too mad at him, if he hadn’t maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

“So I have to thank Jisung for all of this? I’m never telling him that.”

And as you and Changbin began to laugh and curse at Jisung for ruining the surprise, you realised that there had been nothing for you or Changbin to be worried about at all, everything was going to work between the two of you because it was you, and you loved each other. You had always loved each other. And you would always love each other.

With the mixtape or without it.

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#kpop smut #hard thoughts with rose #stray kids smut #seo changbin smut #changbin smut #kpop hard hours #stray kids hard hours #seo changbin fluff #changbin fluff #changbin imagines #changbin hard hours #seo changbin hard thoughts

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middleearthpixie · 1 year

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Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter Ten

Summary: Speech therapist Josephine Asharm has been brought into Erebor to work with Bifur, but trying to find her place among people who eye her suspiciously would be difficult enough under normal circumstances, but when Sophie finds herself caught between the king, his most trusted lieutenant, and the dwarf she’s there to help? She’s certain no good can come of it. Being of Man, not only does she stand out in the dwarf kingdom, she’s not entirely certain she’s actually welcome there at all.

Thorin only agreed to allow Sophie to live amongst them out of a sense of duty to Bifur, who is recovering from an odd head injury (is there any other way to describe having an axe blade lodged in one’s head, only to have it later dislodged during the Battle of the Five Armies?) Before the battle, he spoke only khuzdul. But since it? He’s regained the ability to speak Westron—if only he could but remember any of it. As for Thorin? He’s trying his damndest to ignore the speech therapist, not to mention his own growing feelings for her, even as he is also recovering from his near fatal wounding in the same battle.

Both Sophie and Thorin are haunted by their pasts and are uncertain of their futures, but sometimes, chances must be taken…

A/N: I want to apologize for the slow updates, I haven’t been in a great headspace to write, and school is really chewing me up, so my free time is going to be at a premium, which means updates may be even slower. Thanks so much for your patience…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm

Characters:Sophie, Thorin, Heather, Fíli, Dís

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,693

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

They jumped apart from one another at Heather’s sleepy question, both of them spinning toward her before Sophie skirted him to scoop her up. “What are you doing out of bed, love?”

“I thought you were having a bad dream, Mama. I heard you make that sound again.” Her sleepy eyes narrowed as she looked over her mother’s shoulder at him. “Did you hurt Mama?”

“Oh, sweetie, no, of course he didn’t,” Sophie told her with a smile, casting another quick glance at Thorin. “I simply… caught my shin on the edge of the table, is all.”

She looked from Heather back at Thorin then, and although he smiled, she didn't miss the slight bulge of muscle along his jaw that came from the tension of unspent desire. It swirled through her as well, her entire body achy and tight as she tried not to think about it.

Heather looked back at her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, love. Now, why don’t we get you back to bed?”

“Mister Thorin,” Heather peered over Sophie’s shoulder once more, “are you all right? You look as if you’ve hit your shin on the table as well. Did you?”

Despite her discomfort, Sophie managed a smile as Thorin cleared his throat. “I did, actually, and yes, I’m all right as well. But, perhaps your mother should rethink the placement of the table.”

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Sophie said as she started toward Heather’s chambers. “Let me tuck her in once more.”

“Take your time,” he replied, his voice almost back to normal now instead of husky as it was only a minute or so ago. “I’ll see myself out.”

Disappointment surged through her. “You don't have to go.”

“No, I think it best if I do.” He smiled, his eyes as soft as they’d been when he’d smiled at her before they were interrupted. “I will see you in the morning, Mrs. Asharm. And you as well, Miss Heather.”

“Sweet dreams, Mister Thorin.” Heather waved a chubby hand in his directions.

“Thank you, mimûna.” His pale eyes shifted to Sophie. “And sweet dreams to you, Mrs. Asharm.”

Despite her swelling disappointment, Sophie managed to smile and nod. “Thank you, Your Majesty. A good night to you.”

He bobbed his head and as she turned to continue down the hallway, the door opened and closed and a heavy silence descended in its wake. Heather tucked her head against Sophie’s shoulder. “I like him, Mama.”

“I do, too, little bit. But, we must remember—”

“He is the king and I shouldn’t pester him.”

Sophie gave her a gentle squeeze. “I do not think you’re pestering him and I have the feeling he would agree with me. But, he has much to do, as does Fíli, so you need to remember to respect that.”

They crossed into Heather’s chambers and as Sophie bent to set her in bed, Heather said, “I know, Mama. And I won’t bother them. I promise.”

Sophie smiled, brushing Heather’s dark curls away from her face. “I know you won’t. I’m just reminding you, that’s all.”

Heather let out a yawn and then a sleepy, “I like it here, Mama.”

“I do, as well,” Sophie murmured, still stroking Heather’s hair, smiling as her daughter’s eyelids slowly slid shut. Little by little, Heather’s breathing grew deep and even and when she was certain Heather was asleep, Sophie carefully pressed a light kiss into Heather’s forehead, then made her way out of her chambers, pulling the door closed behind her.

The apartment seemed so much quieter than usual, and Thorin’s scent—leather, earth, and man—still lingered in the air. With a soft sigh, Sophie settled onto the sofa, lifted her feet to settle them atop the stone table, and leaned her head back. It was the first time in a lifetime she didn't feel lonely, that she didn't feel isolated and cut off from other living souls. Sten wasn’t keen on allowing her friends and he was fiercely jealous of her patients. Not only that, but he’d often interrupt her sessions with them, which made for some very uncomfortable moments and was the catalyst in her decision to no longer use her home office, which was really no more than a storage shed behind their small house. It meant her patients’ privacy was no longer in jeopardy, but it also meant she would be subjected to Sten’s thorough and often furious inquisition when she returned home.

But she didn't want to think about that now, didn’t want to think about him at all. In fact, she’d be thrilled to never think of him again. He was the past. This was her future. At least, for now it was, anyway.

A hint of winter wove into the night breeze, but Thorin only barely felt it up on the rampart. With a soft sigh, he leaned against the stone parapet, gazing out at the lights of Dale in the distance. Yule was only weeks away now, and while it wasn’t his first since returning to Erebor, he was in the infirmary recovering from his battle with Azog at this time the previous year, and therefore missed it. It would be the first he’d celebrate in Erebor since he was a much younger dwarf.

He turned his glance upward at the night sky. A heavy blanket of clouds obscured the stars he so loved to come up and gaze at when he was a child. The night sky was always so much more interesting than the daytime one, and every now and again, he’d indulge a childlike wish when a star streaked across the black sea overhead. He’d yet to have a single one come true, but never say never.

“Thorin? What’re ye doin’ up here at this time of night?”

Thorin spun about at Dwalin’s gruff whisper, then let out a somewhat embarrassed laugh to have been caught stargazing at a starless sky. “I was just on my way to my chambers and thought a bit of fresh air was in order, is all.” He met Dwalin’s gaze. “And you?”

“Same.” Dwalin came out fully onto the rampart, stopping alongside Thorin to lead his forearms against the parapet, hands clasped, and also stared off toward Dale. “I need yer advice, where yer sister is concerned.”

“My advice?” Thorin couldn't help but chuckle at that. “You say that as if I might be able to actually offer up something useful where Dís is concerned.”

“I’m hoping ye can.” Dwalin turned his head to look at Thorin. “She leaves me at a bit of a loss, to be honest, and I’m not so certain I can overcome it.”

“Overcome what?”

Dwalin didn’t respond at first, but turned back toward Dale, which had gone mostly dark as the townspeople extinguished lamps to go to sleep for the night. “She has been keeping me at arm’s distance since Mrs. Asharm’s arrival.”

“Well, you did express an interest in Mrs. Asharm and Dís is no fool. She is not about to compete with anyone for your attentions, let alone a daughter of Man.”

“I made a mistake where Mrs. Asharm is concerned, and underestimated yer sister’s backbone. Which is a mistake I’ll not make again. And I’ve told her as much.”

“You need to speak to Dís about that, you know. I have no words of advice other than that. She is her own person and knows she need not answer to anyone, least of all me, as a result.” He sighed softly at the look of genuine dispiritedness creasing Dwalin’s normally stoic face. “But, that doesn’t mean she won’t forgive you your lapse, you know. She might just make you pay for it for a while.”

“A lapse. I walked with Mrs. Asharm, is all.”

“And tried to kiss her,” Thorin reminded him, his own gut twisting slightly at the image that leaped into the forefront of his mind. But then another image replaced it, the one of Sophie in his arms, her hands exploring him without a hint of shyness, her encouraging him to do the same to her. Now the tension in his gut, in his body, had nothing to do with Dwalin and everything to do with how close he’d come to sweeping Sophie to her bed to see what other pleasures they would discover together.

He scowled. No, that wasn't right. She knew. He’d be the one discovering it.

Dwalin must have seen him scowl, for he nudged Thorin’s shoulder. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“You just made a face.”

Thorin smiled. “Just thinking aloud, so to speak. About what the solution to you and Dís is, I mean.”

Dwalin didn't look as if he believed him, but then he shrugged. “I didn’t expect ye to solve it, Thorin. Just thought ye might have a suggestion as to how I can even bring the matter up. Any time I try, she insists there is no trouble.”

“Perhaps then there isn’t.”

“Thorin, she speaks to me only when absolutely necessary and when I’ve asked for a moment of her time, she never has one to spare.”

“Well, to be fair, she has her hands full with Kíli and his upcoming wedding and Fíli and his seeming lack of interest in anything other than giving Heather Asharm riding lessons.”

“I beg yer pardon?”

Thorin nodded. “You heard me correct, Dwalin. And Dís is afraid he is thinking of traveling away from here, to see parts of the world where he won’t have to battle for his life. He mentioned something about spending some time in the Iron Hills, if memory serves.”

“With Dáin?”

“With Dáin.”

“That explains her foul mood then.”

“She feels he needs to take his responsibilities more seriously, considering he is my heir.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think he should go out and take all the time he needs to do the things he wishes to do.” Thorin shrugged. “There will be plenty of time for him to be tied to Erebor as king. I’d hate him to do so with unfinished business. He has no idea what responsibilities lie ahead of him, and how they will consume much of his time and leave him with almost none for himself.”

“The same could’ve been said to ye, ye know.”

“No,” Thorin shook his head, “it couldn’t. He and I are not of the same cloth. He will make a far better king than I am on my best day.”

“Ye’ve had yer moments, I’ll not argue that.” Dwalin looked over at him once more. “But, yer a fine king, Thorin. Don’t doubt that.”

“I am not so certain I’d agree, but thank you just the same.”

“Now, what’s the real reason ye are out here.”

Thorin smiled. “I needed the air. I’ve discovered children can have terrible timing.”

“Miss Asharm?”

“Miss Asharm.”

Dwalin chuckled. “The wee ones can make life interesting, I gather. But the important question is, did she see something she shouldn’t?”

“She did not, no. But, I also learned children can move with utmost stealth as well.”

“So, things with Mrs. Asharm are going nicely?”

“They are. I like her, Dwalin. And she seems to like me just as much and it leaves me at a bit of a loss as to why, but I don't mind fumbling my way through to find out.”

“Good. I hope ye enjoy yer fumbling, Thorin. At times, it can be the best part.”

“I do not want to know anything more in depth than that.”

“I’ll not say a word, but enjoy what ye find with her. It’s time ye were happy, laddie. High time ye were happy.”

“It feels odd,” he confessed softly, pushing away from the parapet as thunder rumbled softly in the distance. “And I have to admit, I don’t really know what to do with it.”

“Enjoy it. That’s what yer supposed to do. She will drive ye mad, but in the end, it should be worth it.”

“I thought that once before,” Thorin replied softly, shaking his head, “and it wasn't meant to be, remember?”

“Aye, I do. And now ye’ve a second chance. That doesn’t happen to everyone. Enjoy it. See where it leads and hope for the best. That’s all any of us can do.”

****

The next morning, Sophie sat in the courtyard with Bifur, smiling as he squinted at the parchment on the table before him, and read the simple paragraph with only a few minor hesitations.

“This is wonderful,” she told him when he looked up. “I told you it would come to you. You need only practice.”

“I still have difficulty,” he said in khuzdul.

“It’s all right,” she replied in Common Speech. “You’re getting it and that is the important thing.”

“Sometimes,” he began in slow Westron, pulling his brows low as he concentrated on each word, “it feels…”

He stopped. His hand tightened into a fist, but never moved from where it held down the corner of parchment. Sophie waited for him to continue, biting back the words of encouragement, having learned from experience that he needed to do things in his own time. He scowled at the parchment, pressed his lips together, and finally said, “As if I have gone stupid.”

He went silent again and she waited once more. Then, he lifted his head to meet her gaze and she took that as her cue. “You haven’t. Not in any way, shape or form. As I said, you are learning an entirely new language and it will take time, and it matters not how well you spoke it before your wounding. That blade,” she gestured to the faint scar that ran from just below his hairline up into his scalp, “basically reset your tongue, so to speak. And it’s as if you’re learning this language for the first time.”

He let out a low sigh. “It came far—far easier to me as a young dwarf.”

“That is not unusual, In fact, that is almost always how it works. Some people have a natural gift for languages. But most? Most struggle with them if they’ve not been exposed to them early in life.”

“I hate it.”

“I know. But, without it, I’d not have a job.”

It was a bit of risk, as sometimes his sense of humor was non-existent. And for a moment, when he just stared at her, Sophie had the horrible feeling this was one of said times.

But then, a glint came into his dark eyes. “I would not want that,” he finally said, a smile showing through his heavy black facial hair, “for I like having you here.”

Without thinking, she reached over and laid her hand atop his. “I think that is one of the nicest things anyone has said to me in a long time, Bifur. Thank you.”

A hint of scarlet swept along his cheekbones and he averted his gaze, murmuring, “I mean every word of it.”

“I believe you.” She patted his hand, then sat back. “So, shall we continue?”

He nodded. “Please.”

Over the course of the next hour, they sat there in the sun, while the breeze picked up and slowly, the temperature dropped, but with each word he managed to read and speak, Bifur’s confidence soared and the next word came more easily. By the time their session ended, he was almost beaming with happiness, with pride, and somehow, Sophie thought her pride in him was even greater.

“You did wonderfully today,” she told him as she gathered up the sheets of parchment to tuck into his file. “You should be proud of yourself and maybe go and celebrate.”

“Do you think I will one day regain my fluency?”

He asked in khuzdul, and she replied in kind, nodding as she said, “I do, yes. And probably much more quickly than you thought. You made an amazing breakthrough today. It should hopefully keep coming with greater ease.”

“I hope so.”

They stood at the same time and as she picked up the folder, she said, “I think it will. You’ll see.”

He almost beamed, looking the happiest she’d seen in the time she’d been in Erebor. “I thank you, Mrs. Asharm. I would not have done this without your help.”

“Well, I don't know about that, but I thank you just the same.”

“Mama!”

Heather came rocketing toward them, leaping at Sophie, who nearly dropped the folder as she caught her. “Heather, take care,” she scolded. “I’m not finished with Mr. Bifur.”

“I’m sorry, Mama…” Heather looked over at Bifur. “I’m sorry, Mister Bifur.”

“Worry not,” he said in Westron with a smile. “We were finished, Miss Heather.”

She smiled. “So you aren’t mad at me?”

He shook his head. “I am not. Would you like a shoulder ride? I know I am not as tall as Thorin, but I think you would still like it.”

He spoke slowly, methodically ,and Heather did not interrupt, but just watched him until he finished. Then, her pearly teeth flashed as her smile widened. “I would, indeed!”

“Would it be—be all right, Mrs. Asharm?”

Sophie smiled, passing Heather to him. “I think she would love it.”

He took Heather and carefully lifted to set her atop his broad shoulders and as she clutched his hands, he said, “Ready?”

“Go!”

And with that, he bolted across the courtyard like a horse, and Heather shrieked with laughter. “Faster, Mister Bifur!”

He obeyed, rocketing into the fortress as Narnerra emerged, shaking her head. “I do not think I’ve ever seem him actually playful before,” she said by way of greeting. “I don't know how she does it, but your Miss Heather has very dwarf in Erebor wrapped about her little finger.”

“She is just happy to have friends.” Sophie replied with a hint of a sigh. “She had none in Dale and when my husband lived, he was not one to play with her at all. He wanted quiet and playing made that impossible.”

“Mrs. Asharm, may I ask you a question?”

Sophie’s heart skipped a painful beat and her mouth went uncomfortably dry even as she nodded. “Of course, Narnerra. You may ask me anything.”

Narnerra looked over her shoulder, then gestured for Sophie to follow her to the table she and Bifur had vacated. Her blue eyes were serious, but shadowed with concern as she said, “Did your husband mistreat you? Mistreat Heather?”

Sophia hesitated. She didn't wish to speak of Sten, wanted only to forget he’d ever existed. Not to mention, she was conditioned to insist everything was as it should be and she was absolutely happy, no matter how great a lie it might be.

But in the weeks since she’d come to Erebor, Narnerra had shown herself to be a good friend and it had been so long since Sophie had had an acquaintance, never mind an actual friend, that she could no longer resist the urge to unburden herself, even if only a little bit.

She drew in a deep breath and slowly nodded her head. “He was not a kind, jovial man. He saw his wife and daughter as obligations to be grudgingly tended to, not as people or even objects of great importance.”

“And did he raise a hand to you?”

“I’d rather not speak of it, Narnerra. It is in the past and there is shall stay.”

“Does Thorin know?”

She nodded slowly and murmured, “He does, yes.”

“Sophie,” Narnerra touched her arm, her hand warm and gentle, “you are safe here and Thorin will allow you stay as long as you wish, even if you pronounced Bifur cured tomorrow.”

“It matters not,” Sophie replied softly, shaking her head as she forced a smile she didn't truly feel to her lips. “Sten is gone. He’s gone and he won’t be coming back.”

“Even so, you are welcome to remain here. You and Heather. Remember that. And no one will find their way in here without the king’s permission.” Narnerra’s fingers tightened about Sophie’s forearm. “You are safe here.”

“I know, but once my work here is done, I will not impose on your hospitality. I know how dwarves view Men and—”

“We make exceptions for those worthy and you, Mrs. Asharm, are worthy. Besides, I want to see how many other stonehearts Miss Heather can chip into pieces.”

Sophie smiled, a hint of relief ribboning through her. “She adores all of you. You don't yell at her, or shout oaths at her. You do not call her names or tell her she is a pest. You treat her as if she was one of your own kind and Gimli seems to have made it his quest to watch over her. And I thank you all so much for everything.”

“She is a sweet child,” Narnerra said. “And between you and me, I’ve never seen Thorin so mushy before. Not since his nephews were wee lads and that’s going back some time. He’s good for you, but you and Miss Heather are also good for him and I hope you remember that.”

“Thank you, Narnerra. That means much, coming from you.”

“And I mean every word of it.” Narnerra smiled and gave her arm another squeeze. “And now, why don’t we go in before the snow comes and we freeze out here? I don’t know about you, but I could go for a bit of tea with some brandy in it to warm up. Come down to my apartments and share some with me?”

“I’d love to. But I should probably go and rescue Bifur.”

Narnerra chuckled. “I think he’s probably holding his own just fine, but I’m sure Gimli would like to see her. He’s been in bed sick most of the day with a stomach bug, thanks to his father not believing him when he said his pheasant smelled off.”

“Oh, that poor boy.”

“Exactly. So, let’s go find Heather, and she and Gimli can giggle together while you and I warm up and giggle together.”

Sophie smiled. It sounded like the perfect way to end a good day.

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Richard Armitage

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pacifymebby · 10 months

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if you’re feeling sinister / chapter one

Titch

"So, it says in your folder people call you Titch..."

"Only my friends..."

"Well then," said the young woman sitting opposite me in a less than comfortable chair, just like mine. She closed the folder in her lap, hands resting one on top of the other. "What should I call you then?"

I smirked.

"You mean we're not going to be friends?" I drawled so that she had to pretend not to notice my sarcasm. My sullen eyes and mouth.

"I'm your therapist Miss Karras... You don't really want me to be your friend."

And all I could do was smirk because it was true. I had no intention of opening up to her the same way I'd had no intention of opening up to any of my other therapists because I'd been going to these kinds of sessions since I was a little girl and I'd long since lost faith in doctors.

"You know my name its on the front of my folder..." I said with a shrug, glancing once more around the compact little office. I was missing two hours of school for this and though usually I'd be glad of an excuse to duck double maths, I wasn't missing double maths, I was missing a music lesson which I shared with two of my best mates and I was pissed that one of the only classes I enjoyed was being sacrificed in exchange for fourty five minutes of being watched and studied by a pen tapping nerd with a morbid curiosity complex.

"Alright then, Pepper, thats a unique name isnt it..."

"Mum was a hippie," I said matter of factly, plain and bored because so far we were having a conversation exactly the same as so many others, one I was endlessly bored of repeating.

"You sound as though you dissaprove, you don't share your mother's beliefs?"

I frowned then, chewing my cheek though I couldn't deny that she had piqued my interest. Usually people asked whether I missed her, or what else I knew about her. What was it like growing up without her? And usually I had very little to say to them.

"I don't worship the green man if thats what you mean?"

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it... I can't help noticing your necklace though..."

"It wasn't hers," I said a little too quickly, realising the moment the words had left my mouth that she hadn't been about to ask me if it was. That I'd revealed a little of myself to her that I hadn't meant to.

"No?"

I shut up then, shrugging my shoulders, watching her from under my lashes sullen lips set in a downward curve.

"Its whitby jet... Well, it looks like it from here anyway..."

"Right, and?"

"Well, I just think its interesting that you show no interest in your mothers lifestyle but you wear a piece of jewellery which is designed to protect against dark spirits..."

"Right..."

"You don't think that's interesting?" she asked, probably resisting the urge to cock her head to one side. Probably doing her best to strike the balance between curious and disinterested.

"Its just a necklace," I shrugged, "it was my grans."

"You lived with her didn't you, when you were younger..."

"After my I watched my mum being murdered you mean..." I said, smirking when her eyes did the usual, the surprised flutter, the momentary uncertainty, the desperate flicker away from me because for a moment I'd reminded her why I was here.

The story two ways. The one I'd told the police that night: that my mum had gone flying, that her head had spun all the way round, that she'd screamed but it wasn't her scream. That my dad had tried to save me, picking me up and running away, taking me back to the convent, leaving me there when he ran away.

And the story spun the other way, the way the police and everyone else had accepted it. My dad had killed my mum in a jealous rage, that the 6 year old daughter forced to watch was so traumatised by what she'd seen that she had tried to turn it into a horror movie, that she'd fictionalised it to cope and got lost somewhere in the dream.

I looked back at my new therapist and tried to work out which version of events it was that was haunting her in that moment. She just smiled, persistent.

"Yes," she said, "she took you in didn't she?"

"Why are you asking me if you've read my folder?"

"These are just starting questions Pepper, generally the way this works is that we spend the first session getting to know one another by expanding on these topics... It helps if you try to open up..." she said, leaning forward, really looking at me, giving me those 'you can trust me' eyes I'd noticed most therapists were under the false impression that they'd mastered.

"Right..."

"So... Why don't we start there, what was it like living with your gran?"

"Nice," I shrugged glancing at the clock on the wall, "she was nice..."

"Nice?" she sat back in her chair, I could tell she was trying not to chew her pen, trying not to do anything that would show me I was getting to her. But I was getting to her.

"Yeah," I said, "nice... Better than the alternative and better than living with my parents... If anything you could say my 'dad' did me a favour..." I added with a smirk knowing it wouldn't shock her, knowing she'd think she was getting somewhere... She wasn't.

"That was a joke by the way, don't get your hopes up..."

"Well," she said sitting up a little straighter, blinking again, "maybe thats where we can start, why do you feel the need to joke about your parents relationship? That must have been a traumatic time in your life Pepper... Growing up in well, what must have been quite a toxic environment..."

I shrugged.

"Why does anyone tell any joke? Cause its funny..."

🔪🍎

"Go on then how was it?" asked Van throwing his arm around me as he dropped himself and his rucksack down on the grass at the edge of the football field.

"I don't like her," I shrugged taking the cigarette he offered me and lighting it up. He just laughed, let Suki say what they were all thinking.

"You never like them..."

"Yeah well," I shrugged, "they're all the same aren't they..."

"Whats this?" yawned Johnny droppimg his footie kit at my side, coming to rest the other side of me so that he was leaning back on his elbows looking up at me from under the rim of his baseball cap.

"Titch has a new therapist," said Mia cracking open her diet coke as she kicked one shoe off with the toe of her other.

"Oh right," he nodded, "she's right then."

Of all our friends Johnny was the only other who understood me when I talked about the therapy. He had a dead mum too. She'd been found in the woods two nights after they'd found my mum but the coroners said she'd been dead two days. Murdered, just as brutally as mine. Presumed by the police to have been caught in the crossfire between my mum and dad, probably murdered by my dad before he'd fled deeper into the woods to end his own life.

They'd found him hanging from a tree, both wrists slit to the elbows, throat slit too. They'd called that a suicide... Somehow.

So when we were feeling particularly morbid, me and Johnny would refer to ourselves as the dead mum club and have a little smirk and a cig in honour of our brutally murdered mothers, and, though none of our other friends ever contradicted me to my face, I knew Johnny was the only one who really believed my version of events.

"See," I said with a little smile flashed in his direction, glad to have him there, understanding in his own quiet way.

"So how longs this one meant to last?" asked Van, "and are you still gonna be able to come to practice next week?"

"I don't know," I shrugged trying to play it cool then as I thought back on the conversation we'd had earlier that afternoon. When she'd read me like an open book and gotten under my skin in a way that made me feel a little bit sick.

"Probably until they decide whether she's crazy or not..." sniggered Larry earning a sock to the ear from Mia as she told him to shut up.

"They don't think you're..." started Johnny, his voice quieter as he knocked my elbow with his.

"Yeah," i smirked, "they do..."

And though this time round I wasn't entirely sure, usually it was true.

🍎🔪

"You know Pepper, I know you've been doing this for a long time now..."

"Ten years won't seem like a long time when I'm 70..." I said thinking back to that night when I was only 6 years old. Thinking about how long the last ten years had really felt. Maybe childhood had disappeared in a flash but the rest had dragged. Would continue to drag until I was old enough to leave our little country village and start again somewhere else where no one knew who I was and who I'd been.

"Ten years is a long time Pepper..." she said holding my gaze, "I know you think I'm probably just the same as every other psych you've seen..." she said apparently undeterred when I remained still and unresponsive, "but I'm not..."

"Right... Thanks for clearing that up..."

"I mean it Pepper, I'm not here to circle some numbers and give you a score out of ten, I want to help you..." she really leant on those last few words, then again she wasn't the first to lean on those words when sitting opposite me in a little office much like this one.

"Uhuh..."

"You don't believe me..." she said with a guilty smirk, "thats a shame Pepper, cause I believe you..."

#Iyfs #Catfish and the bottlemen fanfiction #Sam fender imagine #Catb imagine

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mongrelcave · 4 months

Text

Blood and Water - .ii

She wakes to the sound of wood creaking.

There are stars above her.

No. she realizes that they're not just above, but all around her. She's in space. She sits up and runs her palm over the cool wooden planks underneath her before actually scanning the perimeter. From what she can tell, she’s on a galleon ship right next to its shrouds, and everything's relatively clean for what she assumes is a pirate ship - judging by the jolly roger she sees tied to the ship's jibboom.

“…Where-“ she startles at the sight of a very strange creature that looks like a wad of pink chewing gum approaching her. What’s stranger is what follows: Ryan, grinning and clad in old-fashioned pirate gear while other people that look unfamiliar to her trail closely behind. He looked more leaderlike than usual, here. There's a twinkle in his eye - one he lost after the recent 'incident'. "Welcome aboard!" He holds out his arm, inviting her to let him help her up. Irene blinks and obliges. Somehow, he was able to pull her up with ease despite the differences in stature and weight between them. "Ryan--" Her eyes narrow when she 'receives a message'.

search his mind. find the truth.

"Hell," she facepalms. "I must be in your brain." "Into the brain…" He blinks and looks off. Irene follows his gaze to see a pink planet in the shape and color of a brain. "That's where we're going now!" "What? No, Ryan, you're dreaming. What is all this about, anyway?" "It's an epic tale of my journey to get the treasure from the Dread Pirate Roberts." He bowed and mocked a British accent. "'With Pride. What can I do you for?'" She frowns slightly at his ridiculousness, although what he said sounded quite familiar. "We need to get out… I do, anyway. Let's go." Irene takes a step toward Ryan, but his smile disappears as he takes a step back in return. He looks upset, which makes Irene panic. His emotions might make this a lot uglier than it should be. "You're not…" He grumbled and suddenly Irene was wearing a full pirate costume, hat and eye patch included. Now it's her turn to grumble. "Much better! Now we can travel to Teller Prime!" "Teller what?--" He turns and points firmly at the brain planet. "Full speed ahead!" Irene isn't given the time to react when the ship makes a sharp turn - which would have knocked her down, if she hadn't held onto the railing. As commanded, the ship sails toward the planet at full speed. The angle at which the ship is sailing doesn't help, either. She looks off to the side only to see that Ryan and his crew stood completely still on the slanted ship.

Irene blinks and suddenly, they're no longer on the ship. In fact, the ship is nowhere to be seen. An old western style took over, pink sand under their feet - although she, Ryan, and the other crewmates continued to wear pirate outfits. The citizens of the old city rushed around busily. Irene takes in the scenery for a moment before turning to face Ryan. "Fun's over," she puts her hands on his shoulders. "You're in a dream. I'm from the real world." He blinks and everything around them slows. "Woah… Okay, lucid dreaming." He follows that up by closing his eyes with a pinched expression as if focused on something. Irene's hold tightens and her eyebrows furrow in frustration over what to say. "This isn't lucid and I'm not from your imagination. Notice how I'm the only one talking to you directly?" He pushes her off and looks around. He flinches when he rubs his shoulders. "Ow… Manage your stress. I know a guy--" "Ryan!" She snaps. Ryan holds his hands up defensively. "Woah! Don't like therapists. I get it but--" he's cut off by a hard smack, leaving a stinging mark on his cheek. "You need to wake up!" He rubs his face with a shocked frown. "That felt real… Okay. Yeah. Easy." Ryan stares at the ground with a strained expression. "Wake up… Just… Wake up!" Irene stares at him expectantly. He looks like he'll pop a vein, but he gives up at some point. "I can't wake up…" He exhales deeply. "Is this…Is this some Bucket prank?" Irene tenses as her heart sinks. She fears what will happen if she lingered here any longer without fulfilling her duty. Although, she doesn't exactly know what Jackson meant when he wanted her to find the 'truth.' Is Ryan hiding something from her? She ceases the thought and replaces it with something else. "Can you contact Leach?" He blinks out of his disappointment and looks up at her. "True! Ahem. Leach! Hey buddy!" They both just stand there for a moment. Nothing. Ryan looks back at her with a shrug. "No luck. Huh… I never tried contacting Leach in a dream." Irene sighs. As expected, Jackson wouldn't make it that easy. How is this even possible, anyway? She doesn't recall Jackson having this ability - then again, he does have two gods in him. Perhaps one of them is the god of dreams. "Alas. I suppose this will continue until I fulfill my part of the contract," she says bitterly. Ryan makes a neutral hum. "What, so Jackson can send people into minds now?" He mutters. "I don't know. Doesn't matter much now, though. I'm supposed to be 'finding the truth'," she makes air-quotes with her fingers, "but I don't know what that even means." To that, Ryan huffs. "I'm an open book, Irene. We can just tell Jackson," he stood on his toes to get close to Irene's eyes like they were camera. "To fuck off!" She cracks a smile but immediately goes back to her serious composure. "As much as I'd love to, I think the messages are a one-way thing… Maybe if we just look through your memories? Your history?" "Yeah. Let's go into my repressed memories like this is Inside Job. Maybe there's a folder of all my traumas organized neatly. Like the time my superman undies got caught in my locker the first day of middle school," Ryan scowls. "Honestly Irene. I don't know why he sent you here." Irene stares at him.

he's hiding something. isn't willing to show it. he doesn’t trust her…but she doesn't need trust.

She shakes her head. "Shut up." He frowns. "Damn, okay." She looks back at Ryan apologetically. "No, not you… Just- Him. He's driving me nuts," He nods. "Maybe he can let us out?" She gives him a thin-lipped smile. "Well you know him. He's not one for charity." That comment was meant to be light-hearted, but it just makes her heart sink even deeper. Despite the fact that she's been bound to Jackson for only a day, this felt all too familiar. The contract pulled out memories she had buried deep within her psyche. She's known men like him, and he knows this. He'll stop at nothing to get what he wants.

There's an awkward silence. Maybe it was too soon to jest - she isn't quite used to doing that. She tries for another: "I can't believe I'm stuck in your head now." Maybe that was too rude-- "There are worse places to be," he hums, looking off at the middle of nowhere. Seems that time has stopped completely. This isn't working. Get to the point. "Look. I know this situation is…bizarre, but help us out here. It will be uncomfortable, but we've gone through worse together." Ryan scoffs, still not meeting her eyes. "Let's just find a way out." "Please, Ryan," she pleads as gently as she can. He needs to make this easier for her. For the both of them

Another beat of silence. She takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry--"

he doesn't trust you. that's fine. you know when to use force.

Her voice is caught in her throat as all her nerves set off at once. Irene awaits a command.

command? she doesn’t need commands. he’s nothing but a pest - much like a mosquito, and mosquitos are better off squashed - but before that…

She steps forth. He doesn’t know why, but the act makes the hair on Ryan’s neck bristle. He takes a step back in response - but this proves to be futile when she grabs his wrist quicker than he could react. She closes their distance by yanking him toward her. “Did nobody-” he tries pulling away to no avail. “Did nobody teach you about personal space?” The silence that once surrounded them is filled with the grinding of wood from the western buildings and the whistles of wind as it kicks up sand beneath their feet. “Don't you want to wake up?” she snarls, grip tightening to a painful degree. He winces. "Irene- how are you-" Irene takes a deep breath, as if to calm herself. Then, she gives him a thin, eerie smile that doesn't meet her eyes. He doesn't like this. "Very well." She finally lets go and Ryan turns to rub his sore wrist. He looks around to see the barren, pink wasteland with broken planks of wood, furniture, and glass buried under the sand. Then, he barely hears Irene mutter: "I never liked using force…Given me no choice."

Everything warps. His heart sinks.

"Irene!" Ryan turned to face Irene, his eyes were filled with horror, tears caught on the base of his eyelids. The junk sinks into the sand, and his surroundings start to look foggy - like he was staring at a closeup of a Monet painting. His mind feels like it's being dissected as his dream shifts into a recent memory. The cave. He's struck with the stench of dried bodily excrement and mold. The memories of voices echoed around them as the new scene settled into place. Like a movie screen circling the two of them, they watched the scenery change again: his home, his brother - what he had and lost; a memory within a memory. Ryan stood frozen helplessly as the memory played. All of his emotions washed over him and Irene all over again as he stood paralyzed. Tears fell silently from his face, he dug his nails into his shaking arms. In the corner of his eye, he sees her flinch. His voice was shallow and full of resentment. "Is…is this what you wanted?" He didn't look at Irene. It wasn't entirely clear if he was talking to her or Jackson. She hesitates. He barely hears her muttering a quick apology before disappearing without a sound.

He sniffles, wiping away his tears, and he tries waking up - but he doesn't. He's pulled deeper into the graveyard of his buried memories, and he starts to panic.

He tries again,

Fuck.

The nightmare worsens. Memories mixed with horrific things he didn't even know he could imagine. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wake up. Irene simply abandoned him.

She lied.

.iii

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chemicalblonde · 1 year

Text

I rolled out of bed at 3 in the afternoon. 3 weeks ago I left my 9-5 job. The pay, the title, and the sound of it all looked good on paper, but I couldn't bare the unhappiness one more second. While working my flower gig on Mother's Day, I ran into my old boss. It was a picture-perfect scene - I was smiling alongside the owners, beaming ear to ear when I greeted her. In our last conversations, my former boss brought up the fact that she witnessed my struggle with being overwhelmed - so I knew this was a monumental moment.

You have to understand one thing, I have acknowledged that people possess many layers that include faults and wonderful gifts - so to say that she is evil would be untrue. She is a human navigating her own life, as I am mine. Hours later, after enjoying brunch with her family, she returned and I built her a bouquet. We hugged, wished each other well, and continued to go our separate ways.

I don't think about that job anymore and I'm not kept up passed the witching hour tossing and turning with grief and dread about interacting with her either. I don't regret leaving. I have found so much peace in doing so.

I made it to my pottery class 3 hours later and worked alongside 3 other girls who just wanted to get a course under their belt. Or possibly to do something on a Tuesday night that broke their routine. I destroyed 2 of the 3 pots we made. However, I did not feel defeated nor did I feel angry about wasting the money I spent to be there. I think I'll keep trying, and it's okay that I'm not perfect for my first attempt at ceramics since high school.

On my way home, I was stuck in heavy traffic. So I called my brother to inform him of the horrific death of our family friend that happened over the weekend. I have been keeping it inside because sharing this kind of story is sad, and not fair to share with others who aren't attached to this person. I felt relief in our conversation, I no longer had to hold that in.

After I got home, I scarfed down bits of dinner, ran a load of laundry, and decided to go for my nightly walk (I've been walking every night for a few days in a row now and I want to keep it up). I felt lighter. I felt a release of worry, I release of guilt or pressure to figure it out right now. I am happy that I am returning to my core, to my stable self. It's nice to be back. Maybe I do need to pursue a life in yoga training. Maybe I should. I can't think of other vocations that bring me to this kind of clarity. I am beginning to explore parts of myself that I enjoy.

Shayla and I have been indulging ourselves in this therapy show as of late. We stay up crying and psychoanalyzing. But tonight's season finale resonated with me. There was this insufferable woman who would incessantly gripe about her husband and his lack of value. Turns out, this woman was deeply anxious and loved him dearly. Her therapist asked, "What would life look like without your anxiety"? And she began to explain how she wanted to travel to places where there were dangers and uncertainty. That hit home a little too hard. I think of my past relationships and how my anxiety got in the way, how my control was suffocating, and my expectations for myself were projected onto my partners that resulted in feeling unheard or unappreciated by them. Much to chew on.

Shayla is thinking of possibly pursuing a job outside of Texas, which would mean our time living in this beautiful home is now on a countdown. I am sitting in this. It is not new information, but I was just getting comfortable with the idea of staying here long-term. But this is okay too because I would like to leave and explore the world now. It's time. I can pack my things and head to the west coast to be with my brother. I can create new memories with him and his small family like he dreams of...and I dream of too.

It's now 30 minutes until 3 and I should start winding down. I am overwhelmed with such joy and excitement about the newness ahead. May I continue to believe in the universe and all of its blessings.

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mtnkat3 · 2 years

Text

5.46pm I was outside thinking about You.. my Love... /s .. just.. thought I'd stumbled. Which I do trip over my feet.

Chewing my lips.😳🙈🙊🙇‍♀️

Heck, how I cracked my foot & stopped going to Anytime Fitness gym everyday [9.2009]. Even the recumbent bike was a bit much. I had tripped on a milk/file crate in my basement office. And.. I didn't loose weight. It took that massive effort of the USPS distro job to make me drop 30# in 5 mths. Sigh. The closest I've been to my ideal since...2001 & the days before Xenadrine/Ephedra were banned because of the baseball player death. [Took it without hydrating properly. I think he had a stroke.]

But thought I'd share what calms my soul..🌳🍃 & thinking about You..

Even when I'm dealing with my cats.. & my cat's 💩🤢😳🙈🙊 my big ol' bully huge paw having cat has turned into mama's lovebug! If he gets too wound up & tries to pop me, he gets popped. Hard to train an animal when someone else likes to wind him up.🙄🤦‍♀️🤷‍♀️ but a cat with silver dollar sized paws ain't no joke! And he's a scrapper!

Anyways.. household chores. While I have on Captain Marvel. Ya know hun.. I'm pissed at myself. I could've gone the test pilot route. But I took it as a sign God didn't want me in the military. Took me the whole summer of building trophies to let go of my lifelong dream.

I still wanna fly.

OMG I had the giggles in a tiny tourist Bell chopper at mb in 2015. But was so embarrassed kat about my weight I don't think about it much. Heck, I'd rather be flying it! Is it obvious that I have always loved rollercoasters too? Grin. I laugh on em. I don't scream. Just a release of G forces. 🤷‍♀️ But I haven't been anywhere fun like Carowinds.. oh! Since I went parasailing & jetskis, 1999! Wow. Ugh. Sigh. wh really is a boar! Lmao!

Dang it if that ain't the motivation!

Then I can do things that are fun! And yeah, that includes going to gun ranges! Jimney crickets!

Just.. is a reminder my Love... /s .

Wasn't allowed to go to YMCA to swim, physical therapy, martial arts, marksmanship, dance, counseling. Become a massage therapist, jewelry designer, work in a plant nursery.. Nothing.

Anyways.

About to get on laptop, to find.. a new one! Lol! And the trailer & supplies.

Gotta do it to earn!

I just.. well.. only God & You.. make me trembly in my boots!

Step carefully..

Cause I gotta learn. So I can grow.

I have to retrain my brain from everything that I probably learned wrong because wh likes to give me wrong info. I have had to fact check so much I just no longer believe a word. Forget about trust. [From wh.] Like I asked the best definition of a neckbeard. I have no idea if what he told me is accurate. I'll look on the web.

I need to learn, relearn, how to interact. But for You.. I must learn what things drive You.. bonkers.😳🙈🙊🙇‍♀️ And those that drive You.. wild... 😏😌

Anyways..

I was thinking about You.. 🎶

Wondering how tired You must get. How I wanna get You.. into a shower & help.. & rub away the tired muscles. Wanna make sure You.. have a meal waiting & can relax.. I'm not even talking.. just being there with & for You..

I just.. I miss You..

Closing my eyes.. feel me pour my love into You.. please.. bowing my head.

My Love... /s .. You.. hung the moon & stars in my eyes. I wanna drown in Your.. eyes.. soul.. Forever.

I wait whilst I work. For You..

~True love never dies & true love always waits.~

I have loved You.. Forever.

I will not ever stop.

Nor will I ever give up.

I will earn it dang it!

God help me.. please???

Your trembling, shaky, lip chewing, gut rumbling, listening, watching carefully, stepping...

[& dangit I seem to be the Alpha to neighbors horse of a dog. Sigh.🙄🤦‍♀️🤷‍♀️ ]

Your daughter Lord!,

~Tijgeress kat Phoenix. 🌺

👩🤓💡⚓🙏🙇‍♀️⛓🧰⚙⚒🛠⚔⚖🗽🌂🔗

🐯🐾🐐🦉🐢🐛🦋🌱🌺🌹🌻🌷🌳🧶🧵

⌚💫⚡🌠🗝🔱⚜💖💓💝♠️🧩♾🌎🎯🧭

🥧🍯☕🍼🍫🍁🧣🎶🕯💋

Sa.10.1.2022 6.58pm est.

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usuallyannoyingwhispers · 2 years

Text

A ghost loves you since a thousand and four years and though you don't remember things

that old, you find yourself falling for the ghost

It is just another day- a comb with missing teeth and her knees are bruised with spring. Kate Bush is screeching from her dead grandma's room and hours are the golden horses of a carousel, merging and splitting. The sun is transparent pink of her mother's dupatta and minute by minute, the earth is pulling back the green of shadows inside her womb. A siren's call: No and she knows her heart cannot withstand its own prayer. She flinches at the sound of moon cracking at her feet and she looks at him for the first time. He is staring at the ground, and just like that, he pulls a ribbon of light out of his mouth and flings it into the moonless sky. Persephone! Her name is something fragile between the teeth of a wolf- but she can't tell whether it is a hunt or the wolf's own cub. Despite this, she holds his hand and the snakes coiling his wrist move on to hers. She feels a breaking inside her and he neatly folds the clayen skin she shed. She lets her bones fall and leave them for her mother to gather. He lets the pomegranate beads roll into her mouth of smoke and ash and her discarded bones glow in the dead dark. When death calls your name, you cannot not look back. She doesn't know how far she wants to go, she just wants to be in the dark a little longer. Her mother never told her that a woman's desires are not as simple as a yes or no and she cannot risk never to crush the bright dark of his face between her cupped hands. Shadows leap out of the walls to follow her and rain falls in and out of her dream. Somewhere, in the coast of night, a coyote hunts hours and Persephone's mother fingers deep cuts on the chopping board. The mother's body is filling up with salt and the raven's cry tells her what she already knew. Everyone is counting the mistakes she never made and she knows, if she returns now, the shock of cherry blossoms will be too much.

---

It's 6 o' clock and rust falls from air. When you were born the midwife found an orange in place of your heart and after peeling, she ate it and spat the seeds in the hollow of your body. Your therapist told you that aging is same as making love and as you feel hours opening their red mouths around your skin, you cannot think of a more ridiculous and a more accurate analogy. As the teeth of night chew everything living in the rhythm of sex you write a memo to the next body you'll wear and end it with- P.S. We are all morsels to satiate the hunger of time. You try to console yourself that if you become one with the unborn, the rain may answer you. The milk of night are the bones of your lovers returned to you and as labourers pass tobacco among themselves under the moon, you see your ancestors' bodies splitting with light. A yearning blackens your bones and the moon cracks and falls down, and it takes you an hour to brush the dark from your hair. Your body moonburnt and your desires distracted, everything sacred confuses you and you wander in and out of the walls of time. When you wake up, you can swear, the tall poplar outside the window, almost floats, its branches tearing the clouds. Light has failed you once again and now the hills around your village are turning to moons. The fog opens like a lover for you and now you know, it's possible to believe in both cemeteries and cherry blossoms.

#concept playlists #concept playlist #indian dark academia #indian moodboard #spooky #haunting #Ghost lover #Spotify

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sleeperswakewriting · 3 years

Note

Emily don't bonk me! But if you can save this request for the future I will appreciate it 🥺 what if ghost levi has a fight with her petra and somehow he ends in kindred spirits verse and scares cottagecore petra 😆 and they bond over life because she had a fight with her postman levi + tea + pancakes (no horny though but i ship them now ahaha❤️)

oh gosh, this was SO self-indulgent, I could never bonk you, Matri 💕no horny times ahead, this is all fluff. I think I ship it now too??

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.6k

The time in the multiverse had come to an end with each Levi and Petra returning to their universes. For most of the couples, it was like a bad dream (the Levis would attest to this) and for others, it was like an awakened fantasy (see: The Petras).

Therapist Petra in particular had a lazy smile on her face as she recounted the ridiculousness of the whole matter.

“This just affirms that we’re meant to be soulmates! We’re meant to be in every universe,” she sighed to her Levi over their nightly tea. As usual, he sat across from her at the dinner table while she ate and he observed.

“Did you have a good time with Fire Alarm Levi?” Levi asked, his color growing more opaque. While Petra didn’t need his permission, she graciously asked and requested for him to watch so that she could pretend it was him. Fire Alarm, the freaky bastard he was, didn’t mind roleplaying for Petra, and hot jealously turned the tips of his ears pink.

Petra poked at her oatmeal while she blushed. “Of course I did. He’s you.”

Scowling, Levi’s stare bored into hers, “Obviously not. He’s the one with the dick.”

“Stop it,” Petra snapped, her tone uncharacteristic as shame welled in her stomach. “You told me it was okay. And if you remember correctly, I was envisioning you the entire time.”

“He looks exactly like me, of course you were! Bet if you had the chance to visit, you would.”

Petra chewed the inside of her lip, the taste of the oatmeal losing all its flavor. “Can we drop it? I love you and I had the chance to be with you physically.” Petra’s watch vibrated and her eyes widened as she looked at the time. “Shoot, I have to go. See you at dinner.” And she gave an airy kiss to his head, her lips passing through, and Levi could feel himself growing smaller.

“Love you too,” he grumbled and watched the love of his life whisk away into the real world.

He paced. He was too restless to draw, too early to cook, and there was little to garden with the chillier air of autumn setting its course.

He was such a pathetic excuse of a man. Why did he end up without a body while the rest of the Levis were rich, got regularly laid, and at least could go on a real date?!

Levi floated back and forth in the living room and eventually settled to people watch on their balcony. The world looked so small from up here and it comforted him. He liked seeing the sky touch the horizon, the buildings cascading like a rolling wave, and the infrastructure of the city. Petra mentioned there was a beach town not too far from here, he wondered what it would be like to take her there.

Immediately, the image of her in a bikini made him color, and Levi drifted off into a daydream, his vision becoming muddled with the sound of a sea breeze and the honking of a ship horn.

“Levi! Come back, please.” It was Petra’s voice. Except it was softer, less confident, and longing dripped from every word.

“I have to go, do we need anything in town?”

Floor boards creaked while Petra moved and their voices became muffled again.

“…okay. See you later.”

“Bye.”

Regaining his senses, Levi recognized this place from the multiverse, except it was real.

It was Petra’s cottage.

And there was cottage Petra, standing outside her house, crying into a handkerchief.

Not wanting to scare her, but not knowing how else to make his presence known, he coughed.

A bright smile formed on Petra’s face and she turned around, expecting to see her Levi, but gaped as she saw him.

“Ghost Levi?” she squeaked. “How did you get here?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. Was imaging a calm place and I guess all your stories of the island made me think of here.” He looked to the used handkerchief in her hand. “You okay?”

Petra sniffed and turned her head to the side. “I got into a fight with my Levi.” She shuffled on her feet, clearly uncomfortable, but politeness wore through. “Do you want to come inside? I can show you around.”

He entered the tiny house and it looked like something out of Petra’s TLC shows. Except it was authentic, and he remembered that Cottage Petra was from the 1960s. It was curious since Levi and Petra had relatives that were very much alive during this time and they must literally be from a different universe. He listened with an attentive ear as Petra flitted about the home. Adoration was evident from how she lovingly described every inch, every meaningful item, and then they settled into the kitchen.

Her tears were long dried and forgotten while she spoke to him of her latest baking ventures, and he eagerly added onto her dialogue, enjoying prodding her mind for new recipes to try for his Petra.

“I love that you cook!” She said earnestly, donning her apron, then her face fell. “Wait, you can’t eat, right?”

Levi laughed. “Nope. But why don’t you sit back and let me cook for you? Do you like pancakes?”

Discarding her apron, Petra situated herself on a kitchen stool, fascinated that someone besides herself was cooking in her house.

“I make buttermilk all the time for me and my Levi. He doesn’t have as much as a sweet tooth as me, but we like to use up our fresh fruits.”

And so Levi did what he did best and began to cook. He could see Petra’s fingers twitching as she watched him assemble the ingredients, and with a smirk, he gestured her over. “You can mix if you want.”

Tying her apron with ease, Petra popped beside him, a smile so wide on her face that it could break his dead heart. She put on a record, the vintage tunes not usually Levi’s style, but it felt right with Petra beside him as she idly hummed and danced along to the music in her socks.

“Do you like raspberries?” she asked him, though realized the question was silly as soon as she queried. He pretended to be offended, went as far as to pool into the floor like the batter they were mixing, and Petra shrieked.

“Levi! I’m so sorry!” She wailed, collapsing to her knees to assist him despite his corporeal form.

Laughing echoed in the cottage as he fixed himself. “Sorry, I had to,” he said, taking the basket of raspberries from her hands. “I like messing with people. Life gets kind of boring when you’re me.”

“I think you’re fascinating!”

A blush rose to face, though only noticeable from his opaqueness, and he silently added the raspberries into the mixture, stirring them idly. Petra watched him, her lips pursing while her foot tapped, and Levi sighed in amusement.

“Have something to say?”

“You have to make sure you mix the fruit evenly,” Petra blurted, and Levi finished with her, “Or else the fruit will sink to the bottom and you’ll get a soggy bottom.”

She gave a shy smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.”

He shook his head, “It’s nice having someone else to cook with.” A long pause passed between them. “Is everything okay with you and your Levi? You looked upset when I arrived.”

Petra went scarlet and Levi’s eyebrows rose to the top of his head. She fiddled with her skirts and began to anxiously mix the pancake batter while she started the gas on the stove.

“Oh, uh, we’re fine,” she stuttered cutely.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he offered.

She shook her head as she poured batter onto the pan, the sizzling mixing with the music. “I don’t think Levi would appreciate it. It’s, uh, personal.”

Levi flashbacked to their personal time in the multiverse, and he gave a low cough. “I might be an exception to that. As my Petra likes to remind me, we’re all just parts of each other.”

Biting her lip, Petra stared at the pancake with unnecessary meticulousness. “Well,” she began in a soft voice, “I want to try for a baby. After hearing Fire Alarm Petra talk about her work as a teacher, it got me thinking how much I want to be a mother. My Levi got upset because he thought I wanted to have a kid with Fire Alarm Levi because Fire Alarm and I,” and she halted, her face going an even deeper shade of red while she said just above a whisper, “you know.”

He did know because he was part of it, but Levi spared her the embarrassment and floated beside her. He took the ladle from her hand and gently set to the side while he looked into her honey eyes. “You would make a great mother,” he assured her. “Any Petra would.”

Her eyes glistened. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Levi said, reaching for the ladle and exchanged places. “And speaking of Fire Alarm, my Petra and I got into a fight about him. Dude’s a trouble maker.”

Petra shuffled while a gooey smile came to her face, clearly enamored with the rich man, but Levi chose to tamper his jealously while he finished off another pancake.

“Want to talk about it?” Petra asked, reaching for her kettle. “You said you liked to smell tea. I make my own brews sometimes.”

Instantly, the comfort of Petra’s home had Levi sharing all of his worries, and before they knew it, the sun had begun to descend, and several cups of tea had been finished off. They sat side by side in the meadow while Levi drank in the sunshine and reveled in the quiet.

Maybe he found a kindred spirit in this strange predicament.

#rivetra #rivetra fanfiction #levi x petra #my fics

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collabwithmyself · 4 years

Text

1-3: Turnabout Transfix (2/2)

The article in the paper under the list of missing persons had the wrong name before "Wright, age nine," and a lump formed in Miles's throat.

"That's not his name," he tried to say. It came out as a croak. "We told them his name was Phoenix. I know we did."

Ray, sitting beside him at the dining room table, looked disgusted but defeated. "They added it as a footnote," he pointed out. ""Responds to Phoenix"... Nick's not a dog."

Miles wanted to hunt down every copy of the paper and throw them all into the trash can. His best friend was missing, and people were calling him the wrong name because he wasn't there to stop them. It wasn't fair.

Miles looked to Ray as though he had an answer to right this horrible injustice. Ray looked as tired and frustrated as he felt, chewing on a thumbnail as he thought deeply.

"We can head down and talk to them," he offered, after a long pause.

That was what Father would have done. He would have marched right down to the office where they printed the paper and demanded a retraction. But nobody was going to take a freshman law student and his newly adopted nine year old seriously.

"It's worth a try," Miles responded, because a defense attorney should never give up hope.

⁂

Staying up late to scrutinize the series he already knew by heart for clues of some sort was a mistake, and Miles knew it. His eyes began to droop only partway through the season as Maya snored against his side, and he was vaguely aware he was becoming less and less alert every time he had to pull his head back up from his chest.

It didn't occur to him that he shouldn't be letting himself doze off in the presence of company.

His sleep was never restful. Every night, his subconscious was forcibly yanked back to the day everything changed.

Some nights, he found himself reliving what he was certain was a memory. The dialogue never changed, the action never shifted. A heated argument in the elevator, a foolish bid to stop it, a single gunshot, and that horrid, high-pitched wail of agony that he knew belonged to one of the people he'd lost that day.

Other times, he dreamed not of his father, but of Phoenix.

Those dreams changed, but they remained the same nonetheless. Whether running through the streets with Larry, or through the backyard of his home, or through the hallways of the courthouse, the same thing always happened - Phoenix disappeared. Maybe he ran too far ahead, or lagged too far behind, but Miles's friend was suddenly nowhere to be found, and he felt painfully, crushingly alone.

His subconscious had decided to grace him with the former that night, and when he woke up with "father" on his lips and sweat on his forehead, a rumpled-looking Maya was staring at him in undisguised concern.

"...are you o--"

Miles turned away from her and said nothing, effectively stopping the conversation before it began.

Maya was silent, and when Miles glanced back over, her gaze was fixed on the television, which was still playing through the old episodes of Steel Samurai. She lacked the enthusiasm they both shared for the show, however. She seemed deep in thought.

"...you don't wanna talk about it?" she asked quietly.

He and Uncle Ray never talked after nightmares. One would get up to find the other in the kitchen nursing a cup of tea, and silently join them, knowing the other was thinking of the same thing but not having the courage to voice it aloud. Saying it gave it form, and Miles refused to shed any more tears over something he knew full well was his fault.

"No," Miles responded, sharp and blunt all at once.

"You wanna talk about something else, then?" Maya glanced sideways at him. "I used to talk with Sis after I had nightmares. It helped get my mind off things."

Miles hesitated. "Something else sounds nice," he said quietly.

"How about court today? Prosecutor von Karma was hopping mad, huh?" Maya let a grin stretch across her face as she leaned towards Miles. "She looked like she wanted to tear her hair out. Or maybe yours."

"That woman needs to see a therapist," he muttered.

"I think we all do, My."

"...you've got me there."

⁂

As the trial wore on throughout its second day, Sascha von Karma continued to act stranger and stranger. Before the judge could reprimand her for being far too harsh with the witness, Cody Hackins faltered and lost the confidence Miles had been working hard to build up about his witness account, a terrified look in his eyes. To his surprise, von Karma went ashen and actually stumbled back a little, like she hadn't meant to push a little boy nearly to tears.

Honestly, with her disposition, Miles wouldn't have thought she would care. But here she was, clutching her side, eyes blown wide with something like fear. Something in Miles's stomach turned over. Was he actually feeling sympathetic for this ferocious woman?

But it wasn't just him. Mia beside him (that had been a jolt to his nervous system -- he hadn't been able to see her clearly the last time Maya had summoned her) had her brow furrowed in concern as she stared at the prosecution. "I haven't seen her make a face like that since..."

Miles glanced at her. "Since... what?"

"...don't worry about it. Focus on the trial here and now, Miles." Mia gave him that mysterious smile that meant she was withholding important information from him. He knew it well. He huffed at her, and she huffed back.

Despite Mia's testimony, von Karma had that same look on her face as Vasquez took the stand the next day, wide eyes flicking between the witness and the defense bench. She was strangely silent, not offering a single protest as Miles proceeded with the cross-examination.

But he couldn't afford to wonder about it. Vasquez was clever and tight-lipped, and his attempts to wring her testimony dry and find something to pin her down were fruitless. She and the judge had both gotten irritated at this point, and when Miles hesitated, scrambling to find some point he hadn't pressed, the latter decided he'd had enough.

Miles cursed inwardly as the judge raised his gavel. Vasquez adjusted the pin of her shawl, self-assured in her victory. This was the end. He was prepared to accept defeat.

He couldn't have possibly prepared for what happened next, however.

"OBJECTION!"

Miles jerked his head up. Beside him, Maya gasped in surprise.

Across the room from him, left arm outstretched in a frantic point, was a frazzled, trembling Sascha von Karma.

She stared blankly at her own hand, as though it had moved of its own volition. Then she jumped - actually jumped - when the judge demanded to know the meaning for the interruption.

"Right! Uh. Um. The reason I objected," she babbled, "is because... uhh..."

It was the least composed Miles had ever seen her. He was bewildered. What did she think she was doing?

"...I don't have a reason," she admitted, shoulders slumping.

"Er..." The judge blinked owlishly at her. "Very well. Now--"

"OBJECTION!"

The poor judge looked as baffled as Miles felt. "Miss von Karma?"

"I... I request that the witness testify again!" she blurted out, digging her fingers into the desk. She looked disheveled, stray hairs having slipped out of her ponytail to poke out at a very odd angle. "I, um... I want to hear about... the, uh..."

Vasquez snarled with impatience. "Why are you badgering me? I'm your witness!"

"I'm inclined to agree!" the judge added. "I see little point in making Ms. Vasquez repeat herself..."

Miles looked at Maya. Maya looked at Miles. What?? Maya mouthed at him. Miles shrugged helplessly.

von Karma floundered. "Uh... yeah... great point... ummmmMMM! I want to-- I wish to hear about the body discovery! What happened after you found it?"

That hadn't occurred to Miles. But what could that possibly reveal? And why was von Karma risking sabotaging her own case by asking after it? She practically had the win in the bag, and after Miles had humiliated her so thoroughly after their last clash in court, she had no reason to let this continue.

What was going on?

⁂

The relief of a not guilty verdict and the butterflies of being in such close proximity to Mr. Powers yet again were a powerful combination that filled Miles's mind with fuzz and forced out any less important thoughts, like von Karma's odd behavior or Maya tugging on his coat.

"M-My! Hey! Miles! Kilometers! Little My!"

"H-Hrm?"

Maya pointed to somewhere behind him. "I, um... I think you're in trouble."

Miles turned, and flinched when he found himself nose to nose with a furious prosecutor.

"You," von Karma snarled, "should not be expecting a repeat performance of today! You're lucky I took pity on you! You got that?!"

Her voice raised to a yell as she spoke, and her burning eyes pinned Miles where he stood. He leaned away, but she just leaned forward.

"Don't you dare be expecting a shred of mercy from me from now on! You may be the son of that loathsome excuse of a defense attorney, and the favorite of that voluptuous wretch--"

Now, Miles was not going to sit there and take that. "You should never speak ill of the dead, Miss von Karma," he snapped, straightening his spine and making her flinch away. He met her glare with all the intensity he could muster...

...and then paused.

How curious.

"Wh... What? What is it?" von Karma's hastily plucked brows furrowed as an edge of nervousness worked its way into her voice, and Miles realized he'd spoken aloud.

"Your eyes," he continued hesitantly. They were heterochromatic - one brown, one blue. "They reminded me of someone. An old friend."

von Karma inexplicably blanched. She looked distant for a moment, and her left hand dug into her right side, just below her ribcage. "You... wh..."

Then she shook herself, and that boiling anger was back full force. "Why are you getting all nostalgic on me, you-- ugh! You listen closely, Ed... E-Edge..."

Again, she went pale, looking ill. Miles was starting to worry after her health at this point, despite the fact he was in the middle of being screamed at. "Er..."

"You... you listen closely, Worthless!" She thrusted a finger up towards him, nearly jamming it up his nose with how close she was. "These eyes... you'll see them and know nothing but despair once we meet again, you hear me?! I'm going to crush you, and I'm going to enjoy it!"

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and stomped off, seething.

Maya coughed weakly. "Uh. Wow. What was that all about?"

Miles stared after Sascha von Karma, his gut clenching with inexplicable grief. "I have no earthly idea."

⁂

You failed again.

You can't even blame him this time.

This is all your fault.

Victory was within your grasp.

All that matters to a von Karma is perfection.

And yet you gave him an opening.

A von Karma should be swift and merciless.

You're weak. He's gotten into your head. You can't stop thinking about him.

Even his name makes you sick.

Miles Edgeworth...

...

...why does it feel like you're forgetting something?

#ace attorney #roleswap au #turnabout transition #long post #collab writes #collab draws #collab doodles #miles edgeworth #maya fey #mia fey #phoenix wright #dee vasquez #the judge #raymond shields #misgendering #misgendering tw

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