Tumgik
#read me the news in your poetry voice!!!!!! read me the news!!! in your poetry voice!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
gxlden-angels · 2 years
Text
Poetry isn't real and ripped scriptures mean nothing. Fuck you
#Not gonna put this one in the main tags#Artisitic Vision/Intent/Interpretation whatever do your thing tumblr this will probably go further than it's meant to#something something death of the author okay I'm gonna give you the answer now#I say the answer and not *an* answer because poetry isn't real and words have to have meaning or they don't#anyways I want to write poetry or do spoken word or something about my religious trauma because I express myself thru art#I like seeing colors and words and going 'that's me. I'm that.' even abstractly because I'm abstract#even as you're reading this you're abstractly assigning me a voice and image even if it's just your own or the default one you use#I think okay I'm going to do black out poetry but I think about it too much. I think too much about making it pretty and meaningful#it's not me making art about my religious trauma anymore. it's about me making art about my trauma instead#I rip the bible to shreds and look at it and it mocks me. This is a form of art. But it means nothing to anyone but me. It's my anger#so I go back to making pretty poems about ripping up the bible and it doesn't mean anything I'm writing about making art again#so I make my art in the midst of my anger and all it says is 'Fuck you'#So now I have a pile of bible pieces and 'Fuck you' and I'm less angry but now I have nothing to show#ripped bible pieces and 'fuck you' look just like every other pile of words from any other book. You could make a new book with the words#I pick up a few pieces and make something new and that's a metaphor for something probably but what makes that so?#I am angry and I decide what's art and what's poetry and I put it out there for you to see and feel something and I've been taught for so#so so long that my purpose is to please others and be perfect that I forget I also have to feel something when I make art#my religious upbringing still affects me in ways I didn't even realize and this will probably get reblogged like tumblr poetry but for me?#for me it's saying you can just be now. not a future bride. not a preacher. not a mother. nothing. You can be nothing. That's fine#You weren't put on this planet to perform#You aren't being watched and judged by an all seeing force.#Be nothing sometimes. Fuck you
15 notes · View notes
inkskinned · 1 month
Text
most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.
i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.
sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.
repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.
but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.
it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.
i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.
my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.
back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.
hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.
it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page: outside it is sunset and my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy out of his left paw. or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.
the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.
i love you, keep going.
2K notes · View notes
bvclee · 2 months
Text
high school sweetheart.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
sypnosis: you had a crush on a girl that never seem to noticed you, so your friends and yourself had the great idea that you probably should write her letters until the ski trip, too bad you've mistaken her locker with jang wonyoung's, the most popular girl in school.
warning: maybe kind of social anxiety (?), not really but enemies to lovers.
(sorry for any grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!)
genre: fluff, maybe a little angst.
Tumblr media
ever since you came into high school, you catch yourself staring at An Yujin, the volleyball team's captain. your friends were quick to noticed how you would ramble about her, pure admiration filling your voice.
she was sat next to you in math and would explained you what you weren't understanding, you swore you fell in love, but she never seemed to care more than that.
"—you're so right ! she will like me with that." you affirmed as Rei raised an eyebrow at you.
"are you really sure this gonna work?"
"well, people like poetry!" you defended yourself as Gaeul giggled leaning back on her chair.
"what do you mean? how laufey and pinkpantheress' lyrics are supposed to be poetry-?"
"it is!" you cut off Rei, making the one that gave you the idea giggled once again.
the canteen was pretty loud. you never really liked loud places, it made you uncomfortable and tense.
Jang Wonyoung, high school sweetheart.
it would be a lie if she said that she don't received love confessions in her locker every weeks. in fact it was very common for her.
but this time it was beyond different.
she couldn't help herself but smile, that's when one of her friend pointed it out.
"that's laufey lyrics! i love laufey!" Liz exclaimed as Wonyoung took back the letter as soon it left her hand afraid it would be tear apart.
Leeseo raised an eyebrow as she tried to remember who kim y/n was.
"ooh! i know her!"
her?
Wonyoung eyes widened, she didn't noticed the name before. it was the very first time a girl ever confessed her love to her.
"who's she?"
"that's Yujin-unnie's math seat mate. the one that she helps a lot but ends up with perfect grades."
"i thought she had a crush on Yujin?" Liz questioned confused as she tilt her head towards the youngest.
Leeseo took out her phone as she showed the tallest your instagram.
"send me her profile, need to stalk her highlights." Wonyoung announced as Liz let out a scoff in slight shock.
it wasn't unusual.
"Yujin was smiling a lot more! it totally worked! guys im telling you this is working." y/n said as Gaeul shook her head smiling.
Rei thought a moment before heading her a piece of paper out of her bag.
"then write a new quote!" Rei said supportively as she placed a pencil on the offee table in front of her as she let herself fall onto Gaeul's couch.
Gaeul's parents had always good taste, it wasn't a surprise for them to have a living room this comfortable and welcoming.
Rei liked it.
you thought for a moment before writing the quote not minding Rei's curious glares nor Gaeul reading out loud as you were writing. the green pencil slipping on the sheet as your focus face made the girls smile at you. it was cute how involved you were.
"i'm doing it until the ski trip and then confess, easy-peasy!" the two girl sitting in front of you shared a glare before bursting into laughter.
you gave them a stare as they calmed down smiling like two idiots acting like nothing happened as if they didn't just made fun of you for being a little too corny.
"yah! it's not funny!" you hit Rei's shoulder with the nearest book you could laid your hand on when you heard her chucked silently.
Yujin smirk once again trying to reach the letter, an eyebrow raised at her volleyball teammate.
"come on, let me see! as your captain, you must–."
"it has nothing to do with volleyball!" Wonyoung defended herself as she gazed another time on the note you slid into her locker once again.
after a few more begging and whining, Wonyoung gave in as she hand the paper at Yujin. her eyes drifting from the hallway as she saw you walking with your friends.
you took a quick glance at Yujin as you watched her passing the note to Wonyoung, your face remaining confused as you let yourself drag you away an unreadable expression on your face.
in reality you were jealous, why would Yujin pass your ´love letters' to Wonyoung. why were Yujin smiling like that? was it because of you or Wonyoung's perfect annoyed face?
Wonyoung's orbits widened as she hit Yujin on the shoulder panicked.
"the fu-? what was that?" the volleyball captain rubbed her arm glaring at Wonyoung.
"she saw us!"
"who–?"
"Y/n! she looked hurt!" Yujin rolled her eyes and hit the popular girl with the same among of strength she received a while ago.
"maybe she thinks you're making fun of her, you should probably write some notes with lyrics or poems or whatever back at her."
Wonyoung froze for a second before smiling placing her hand on Yujin shoulder.
"you're a genius."
you kept this little game between you two going, it was now time for the ski trip and you were impatient.
when you entered the bus, you expected Yujin to wait in a seat alone like 'she' mentioned in her letter, you were quit surprise to see her seating with Liz already sharing some snacks.
"y/n, please sit down." your teacher said as every eyes in the bus fixed their stares on you.
you never liked loud place and full of people. like the bus. you hated school trips if you weren't sat down next to someone you knew.
as you were about to protest an angelic voice offered you a sit with an hesitant smile.
Jang Wonyoung, high school sweetheart.
the one you probably tell your children's about even if she was just your friend, your classmate or hallway crush.
you sat down immediately scared of the stares on you glaring at your hands wrapped around your bag.
"miffy." you turned your gaze to meet the most beautiful smile you've ever laid your eyes on.
"excuse me?"
"oh, i meant i like your miffy plushie." she explained referring to the small stuffed animal hanging on your bag.
"thank you.." you replied nervously eyeing Yujin from the corner of your eyes.
Wonyoung was nervous and came to the conclusion you were probably nervous too so she took out a piece of paper and write down something as she placed it between your hands.
confused you read the note, you couldn't help a slight smile drawing itself on your face as you replied.
"snow!" someone exclaimed really loudly as you tried to watch by the window getting closer to Wonyoung involuntarily.
"you're pretty as the snow." she blurted out without warning as you look at her like you've misheard what she said.
you just smiled and took out your earphones as you were about to play on laufey, she remembered the very first note you send her.
remarking the way she was intrigued by the song playing in your earphones, you offered her one of your airpods as you both listened to your playlist in silence.
Rei and Gaeul shared a look confused.
Liz and Leeseo also shared a look, but it was totally different. it was a knowing look. both of them smirking quickly taking a pic.
people in the van were quick to notice Wonyoung's way to look at you. it wasn't ordinary that she sat with someone else than her friends.
"Wonyoung? how?" Rei and Gaeul asked at the same time both of their face holding once of mixed up.
"i don't know.. she just offered."
As Gaeul asked many questions, Rei analysed Yujin's group expression as they were watching you as Wonyoung talk.
'she has a crush on, y/n.' Rei came to this conclusion as she remembered everything that happened this past few months.
what if y/n were talking with Wonyoung instead of Yujin? Rei rejected this idea, fully listening to your rambling about every little detail that happened.
"you should confess." Yujin said wrapping her arms around Wonyoung's shoulder.
"what if-"
"she already likes you!" Leeseo argued back groaning at her friend.
the snow weren't falling but the ground were full of it, white snow spread everywhere recovering the grass a little.
the mountain covered too.
you heard a knock on the door, it was past the bedtime.
you opened unsure as you recognised Wonyoung's figure in the slight dark as she smile.
"it snowing. wanna walk around together?" she asked holding her gloves nervously but she seemed totally confident.
you glanced behind as Rei nodded multiple times and Gaeul just looked not understanding the whole situation as lost as you.
"wait, let me put on my coat." you replied, closing the door behind you.
you looked petrified.
"what's going on!?" you whispered-yelled, panicking.
"just go! Wonyoung seemed to be into you-"
"dont say things like that. she obviously likes Yujin too. she's like my enemie."
"a friendly enemie then." Gaeul joked, earning a slight scoff from the other one.
after what seemed an eternity, you finally showed yourself back ready to walk out.
it was quiet, a little cold but peaceful.
"i enjoy quiet things.."
Wonyoung nodded, she already knew that. you already told her in a note of yours. that's why she offered you a walk at night.
the snow hitting your shoes as you walked both of your hands inside your pockets.
she sighed as she stopped walking.
"i like you too." she confessed as your turn away.
"huh?"
"i like you too." she repeated.
you looked around maybe thinking that Yujin was too nervous to say it so she sent Wonyoung.
"does Yujin sent you?"
"pardon me?"
a weird atmosphere took place over your heads, it wasn't calm and peaceful, it was now tense and electric. like a bomb waiting to explode.
"the lyrics notes you sent me-"
"i didn't sent those to you." you harshly let out without thinking about your tone twice.
then it hit both of you at the same time. like connecting the dots together.
you realised you've been sending all these cute things full of love to the wrong person. to Jang Wonyoung, your friendly enemie.
silence.
dead silence.
"i'm sorry–." you tried to explained yourself out of this big misunderstanding.
"i'm so stupid." she murmured to herself, tears forming into the taller eyes.
"sorry, y/n. i won't be taking to much on your time anymore." she kept her head low avoiding your eyes.
shame.
she throw a paper away, leaving you alone under the lights of a street lamp apologising once again almost running away from you.
you didn't move, you just kneel down to pick up the piece of paper and your heart broke when you met your handwriting.
laufey lyrics, your very first note.
"Wonyoung!" you called as if she was still there but she was no longer in sight, probably running to her dorm.
and she had.
walking back to your dorm like a lost puppy, not knowing how to feel. you were sure of one thing, you didn't like Yujin anymore, at least not as much as you thought.
when you entered the dorm, Gaeul and Rei almost ran to you with big smirks as tears formed into your eyes.
the dorm was mostly in brown and pale blue tone, you liked it, it was welcoming.
"i've been sending letters to her. she likes me." you said between cries.
you weren't sure about the reason of your crying, maybe it was the disappointment of not winning Yujin's heart or breaking Wonyoung's heart. or maybe it was both or none.
Gaeul let you cry on your shoulder, she didn't saw that coming but Rei did. she knew something was off, she just decided to ignore it from the beginning.
"but you like Yujin?"
"i don't know! i like the person i wrote to, because Yujin was just a slight crush before the notes. i grew to like her because of those."
Rei sighed and caressed your back as you cried.
"you like Wonyoung's personality with Yujin's face." Rei tried to explained.
this whole month you've been dreaming of dates with Yujin, but she wasn't the one you truly like. she wasn't the one that truly liked you too.
you wiped your tears away.
"i like Wonyoung. i want Wonyoung." you sternly said determinedly.
"but–."
she avoided you all week.
ski trip was almost over and even if you made a promise to yourself to confess to Yujin, now it was different since the Yujin you liked, was Wonyoung. you had to confess to Wonyoung.
"it's impossible to find you at day." you said as Wonyoung turned around in shock as she stood up from the sofa in the hostel's living room.
"what are you doing here–?"
"Yujin told me you would be here." you simply answered making your way closer to her.
she felt chest getting heavy, ready for any kind of rejection. she was ready for your yells and cries and whatever you were about to throw her.
you took a deep breath.
"i think i like you. i fell for the person i wrote to this past few months."
"but, you liked Yujin."
"i did, i thought i did. but it wasn't as much as i was supposed to like her after this whole letter thing. so it means i like you."
"y/n–"
"i like you, im sure. i've never been more sure." Wonyoung didn't know where the confidence came from but she was kinda liking it.
silence.
it was different from last time you two had a silence between you two, this one it was pure of another kind of tension.
you walked closer.
"look how much i like you." you grabbed her by the collar, and you crashed your lips onto hers.
she kissed back with passion and hunger, like she had been craving for your lips. it was slow yet meaningful. her hands caressing your waist as you let her.
"this is how much i like you too."
and you did it, confess before the end of ski trip. but you did it to Wonyoung instead.
Jang Wonyoung, your sweetheart.
BONUS: first and last notes you sent her !!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
385 notes · View notes
fcthots · 3 months
Note
Happy New Year!! I wish you the best of luck and prosperity in the New Year!
Have you thought about teasing Jason? Maybe making him read one of his favorite books out loud as you tease him til he can’t remember the words?
happy new year!!
Anon, you genius. I am a Jason loves teasing you truther, but I hadn't even considered the possibilities of you teasing Jason. And now that I am, he would not be able to take it for long. He would get so whiny and xhibedcd i have so many ideas for this, it's hard to pick one.
I'll proofread this later. <3.
It's not that Jason doesn't pay you enough attention, you take up 75% of his thoughts, but when Jason starts reading, it takes up all of his focus. It's damn near impossible to get his attention. Good thing you love a challenge.
When you walk into the living room, he's seated comfortably on the couch. A well worn book rests in his hands. He is so engrossed in it that he doesn't seem to notice your presence. You'll have to fix that.
"What are you reading?" He doesn't quite jump, but his eyes shoot up. There's something to be said about how he's so comfortable around you that his guards is completely let down. That does something to your insides.
"Just some poetry." It's such a vague answer that it piques your interest.
"What kind?" You step closer to him. His eyes track you.
"Some love letters. It's Letters to Milena by Franz Kafka." He'd spoken of the book before you think.
"Thinking about me while you read?" You climb onto the couch and straddle him. One of his hands moves to your waist on instinct.
His face dusts with a light blush. He doesn't respond, seemingly at a loss for words. You wrap your arms around his neck. He stutters for a moment, but never quite makes a full word. You smile. He's getting so riled up and you've barely done anything.
"Read it to me." His brows furrow and he fumbles with the pages. You dip your face into the crook of his neck and softly bite down. His breathing grows deeper and faster.
He stutters at first, struggling to find his place in the book. Eventually he finds it. "Yesterday, I advised you not to write me every day," You feel him grow hard beneath you, "I still hold the same opinion today and-"
You grind down onto him. His head tilts back, moving your face away from his neck, as he makes a sound between a whine and a moan. You lift your hips away from his and he opens his mouth to say something, but you speak first. "Keep going."
He nods obediently. His movements are shaky, pent up and nervous. "it would be very good for both of us," You drop your hips back onto his and he gasps, but doesn't stop, "and so I repeat my advice today even more-..." His voice trails off as your hand drops from his shoulder to down into your pants. He watches you with something akin to reverence as you slip the pants and underwear off together (with some difficulty). You drop them to the floor. Jason shudders beneath you. "Wait." His voice is whiny as he pants beneath you. "Please," one of his hands moves to the hem of your shirt and tugs, "take this off. Need to see you, please."
You start tugging it over your head. "Only if you keep reading." He nods vigorously and you unclasp your bra.
"Emphatically- only please," his voice hitches when display your tits in his face, you bring one hand to your chest and roll a nipple between your fingers, making a show of throwing your head back and pushing your chest towards his face with a breathy moan. "Milena," you grind against him and he stutters for a moment. You move the other hand back between your legs and begin to work yourself open, starting with two fingers, in and out. He continues and his hooded eyes watch your every move. He doesn't need to look at the book to know the words. "Don't listen to me, and write me every day anyway," you add another finger to your rhythmic motions that brush against his length, "it can even be very brief," you add in your pinky finger and Jason makes a pathetic little whiny sound that is music to your ears.
You undo the drawstring of his sweatpants and push them further down his thighs. Putting his book down, he shimmies his hips to help you get the pants down, as impatient as ever. As soon as he cock springs free, you urge him, "Keep going."
He watches, trying his best to keep talking, as you lift your hips and bring his tip to your folds. Your other hand staying occupied on your chest. His hands anchor themselves on your waist, "briefer than today's letters," he moans out as you begin to slightly push yourself down. He soldiers on, "just 2 lines," you slide down even more. You do your best to keep your own moans under control, you want to be able to watch him. You've worked yourself enough so he slides in easily, the stretch not painful. He feels good.
He can't form words while you take your time bottoming out on his cock. Once, you've sat your full weight on him, he can't tear his eyes away from where your bodies join. One of his hands slides down until his thumb reaches your clit. He's distracted, entranced, by you. You struggle to keep your composure. "Keep reading."
His eyes stay focused on his thumb as it circles your clit. "Just one," you move your hips up and snap them down. Pleasure blooms in your chest and you hear Jason curse and breathe faster. "Just one word," you find a rhythm moving up and down on his dick. His voice constantly wavers and he moans between words. "But if I had to go ah without them," the length between each word gets longer and longer as you move faster and faster and he gets closer and closer. He struggles to get even one word out.
"Finish it and I'll let you finish." You're getting close now too, his demeanor clearly having an effect on you. His thumb speeds up.
He nods, unable to hold himself back for much longer. "I would suffer terribly." He says the words fast, all in one breath as he begins to thrust up into you. You clench around him as he lets out a loud moan. You cum together as he spills out of you. His head tosses back and his thumb stills and he twitches through the last waves of his orgasm. You drop your head onto his shoulder and slouch against his chest. His arms curl around you and he kisses whatever skin he can reach. You legs burn and your knees ache, but you have nothing to be worried about. Jason will take care of you.
Also disclaimer! I have not read the book yet! I plan on getting it soon bc I've been wanting to read it for years, but have yet to read the full thing full so that's why it's undetailed.
419 notes · View notes
throwaway-yandere · 1 year
Text
!!!MODERN YANDERE IDOL!GENSHIN/READER MATCH-UP EVENT!!! (Masterlist)
Tumblr media
"Oh no... another poor unfortunate soul."
Slots available: "CLOSED. 22 ANONS HAVE SUBMITTED. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME, I'M GLAD WE HAD THIS INTERVIEW" - Exec. Producer Alice
"It was supposed to be 20 but I forgot to close it." - Producer Lumine
"And who's fault is that, exactly?" - CEO Alhaitham
"... I know..." - Producer Lumine
LIST OF ANONS THAT GOT IN
THANK YOU POSTERS
=============
SENDER: (Executive Producer) Alice ||
WELCOME TO TEYVAT PRODUCTIONS.
PLEASE READ THE GUIDELINES BEFORE ACKNOWLEDGING THE LIST OF IDOL GROUPS YOU MIGHT GET ASSIGNED TO.
HERE IS THE LIST:
ADDICKTZ
ADDICKTZ, formerly known as DCKZ, is an idol group formed in 20XX. They are incredibly well-known in the industry and their singles frequently top the charts. All the members previously worked as fashion models and half of the members (Dainsleif, Arataki Itto, Kaeya Alberich, and Childe) took movie and theatre roles. They are currently the number #1 unit in terms of presenting satisfactory fanservice.
Ayato || Diluc || Dainsleif || Itto || Childe || Kaeya || Thoma || Zhongli
["For your sake, I advise you to start praying for the God you believe in so that you won't end up producing ADDICKTZ. Unlike me, they might just listen to you. Why won't they listen to me? Hmm. Well, that's because I've never been a devotee. Still, be wary." - Dainsleif]
5WIRL
5WIRL, formally known as 4NEMO before Shikanoin Heizou's debut, is an idol group formed in 20XX. They often experiment with multiple genres of music and present multicultural aesthetics. The group consistently adds their thematic light green and wind motifs in their albums, poetry, and other media. 5WIRL's lyrics have often discussed mental health, stages of grief, nature, and other self-reflections. 
Venti || Xiao || Kazuha || Heizou
Note: Aether is under Producer Lumine's management.
["Ohohoho, a lost guest! It's always nice to see a new face around here! Can I get you something to drink? I promise you can trust me!... Geez, what's with that look? I don't spike drinks. Is that sooo hard to believe?" - Venti]
Kreideprinz
Dr. Albedo operates a solo unit more professionally known as "Kreideprinz." He debuted in 20XX before his major label debut album "The Chalk Prince and the Dragon" in 20XX under his previous producer "Alice". His unit work focuses on commercials, modeling for magazines, and talk shows. The unit rarely goes on tours since Dr. Albedo prioritizes his scientific research more than idol work.
Dr. Albedo || (Student) Gorou
["You must have a strong body and you must also stay on top of your game in this industry. Although, if you do get assigned to Kreideprinz, leave the heavy lifting to us!... Or me. Just. Only rely on me. Y-You don't have to keep your eyes on him 24/7." - Gorou]
I HEREBY AGREE TO THE TERMS AND CONDITIONS OUTLINED IN THIS AGREEMENT AND SUCH IS DEMONSTRATED THROUGHOUT BY MY SIGNATURE BELOW
____________________________________
SIGNATURE OVER PRINTED NAME
=============
"So, which unit will Mx. (Y/n) end up working with? Ooh, Paimon can't wait!"
"I don't know kid, but something tells me that something bad is going to happen..."
=============
"Pwah! It's fiiine! They may be a total newbie, but Paimon thinks they can handle it!... Right?"
PERSONS OF INTEREST (SECRET MATCH-UPS)
Teyvat Productions' logo's made by ESTHER anon!!!
CEO Alhaitham
Manga Shop Owner Cyno
Music Composer Tighnari
Creative Director Zandik (ADDICKTZ)
Creative Director Baizhu (5wirl)
Stylist & Model Scaramouche (Affiliated w/ 5wirl)
Trainee Kaveh
Pantalone
"Interesting... So these are the people that didn't become producers, huh? But why do you keep a record of them, miss Alice?"
"Isn't it obvious Lumine? It's because they're interesting, duh~"
=========================
EXTRAS:
ADDICKTZ video shtpost: "Tonight on the real ADDICKTZ at TeyvatPro"
[READ AFTER KAEYA'S FIC] Dottore's always watching.
[GENERAL SPOILERS] Incorrect Quotes, P2, P3
TIGHNARI'S TAPES (voice lines):
[AFTER KAEYA'S FIC] Qiqi and Xingqiu during Childe's recording
[BEFORE AYATO'S FIC] Beidou and Sucrose in front of Albedo's room
4K notes · View notes
tellerluna-stories · 1 year
Text
veneration.
Tumblr media
PAIRING: scaramouche x reader
GENRE: canon-compliant. belligerent romantic tension, flirting but not quite flirting, the trope of helping the other get ready for an important event.
TW/CW: slight spoilers for 3.2 archon quest (although it was literally revealed in the livestream so idk if it counts as spoilers).
A/N: boo, I'm alive (sort of.) I can't believe I'm writing for emo pinocchio, much less simping for him (yes, @x-zho and @byeol-ssi you read that correctly),,,, but HEY IF THIS DRABBLE GETS ME OUTTA BURNOUT DEPRESSION Y NAT COCONUT
Tumblr media
"How fares your one follower, Lord Harbinger?"
The Balladeer pauses in the middle of what he's doing, a tangle of energy tubes falling around his ankles like an undignified noodle dish. Your voice is carefully, perfectly even, your eyes steadily fixed on your book as if nothing was the matter.
"Haypasia? Well, she's the first of many to come, so of course she is someone of great prestige in my eyes."
He enjoys the faint flicker in your eyes, choking back a taunting smile as your grip tightens on your book. To say that he held affection for you would be staunchly denied, but there was nothing Scaramouche delighted in more than to wear your nerves out.
"As she should be. Never forget the service she has done you, sir."
"And what of the service you owe me?" He retorts. "I don't recall summoning you here just so you could sit and recite pretty words to me while I do all the work."
An exasperated sigh and a slight rustle as you get up from your chair, followed by the echoing sound of your footsteps as you began climbing the stairs to the head of his soon-to-be divine vessel. "I had assumed that you wouldn't want my assistance until I was called for."
"I'm sure Haypasia would have willingly volunteered to assist me." Scaramouche remarks idly, tracing a finger along the polished metal. "When it comes to loyalty to me, I'm sure that that girl is second to none."
Silence, just as expected. Your face is pristinely neutral when you reach the top of the stairs and place the book on the floor, but he knows better; he knows how the blood surges in your veins in not-quite-jealousy, how the air catches in your throat at the thought of someone being better devoted to him.
Up until now, the Balladeer had had a hard time finding an edge over your nonchalant nature, with any sharp jabs left blithely ignored or rebutted, with no room for nonsense— for out of all the people who dared test their bravery by working with him, you were one of the few who had remained mostly unaffected by his short temper.
But with a certain researcher in the equation, it seems that he had a new — and most entertaining — way to push your buttons.
"You shouldn't have tangled up the tethers like this, sir." You kneel down to untangle the mess of cables at his already-tethered feet, your hair falling forward to conceal your face. "The Doctor would not be pleased if something were to malfunction tomorrow due to something as minor as this."
He stands stock-still as your hands trace along the length of his arm, searching for where to attach the cables to his wrists and shoulders, your fingertips brushing against his back as you check for any loosened tethers; to an outsider, it would seem that you were merely performing the duties of a faithful assistant. But every move and word was choreographed, designed to bring out your true intentions under the guise of professionalism.
"Tell me," The Balladeer asks, a taunting lilt to his voice. "What sort of book are you reading that distracts you from my glory?"
"Just something I picked up in the Grand Bazaar." You reply, and soft hands brush against the sides of his neck, reaching to safely tether him to his vessel. "A book of short essays and poetry, written by some obscure but well-read author."
"What sort of poetry?" Scaramouche keeps his gaze locked on yours, pretending to be unaffected by the way your arms enclosed the air around him, the close proximity between the two of you. The fun part of the game was to never reveal your hand of cards, after all.
"The usual; some about life, or loss. The seasons, and some about places the author had been to." Your eyes briefly flicker to meet his. "Love poems, too."
He cannot help but smirk, knowing full well at what you were playing at; the two of you had an unspoken agreement, a mutual push and pull as you aimed to tear each other's heartstrings out and have the other dancing in the palm of their hand. "Care to recite one, then? I'd like to see if you can actually spew pleasant words for once."
"If that is what the Lord Harbinger wishes," was your response, your gaze drifting away to focus on adjusting the tethers on his hands and wrists one last time. "There is one piece that I particularly enjoy; allow me to retrieve my book so that I may read that to you."
You were clever— he had to admit as much. This very well could have been your plan all along, to grab his attention with a book that you were certain would make an impression on him; he would not put it past you to have made such a bold plan.
But since the Balladeer was soon to achieve his lifelong goal, he was feeling generous tonight— he would indulge your little schemes for today, just this once.
"Ah, here it is." You straighten up, the pages rustling as you flip to the correct page. "This essay is rather long, but this particular excerpt is my favourite."
Scaramouche watches as you begin to pace back and forth aimlessly, your lips parting to take a deep breath in preparation... and he waits. He waits for the next move in the chess game, for his turn to come.
"Look up to the stars, and remember the light in my eyes." One finger traces idly along the page, your eyes following it intently as if to bore a hole through the paper. "Look to the east, the rosy dawn, and think of my lips, sweetened with the honey of memories with you."
"But furthermore, evermore, I beg of you, my darling..." Your feet shift to wander towards him, stepping closer and closer till you were only a few paces away from where he stood.
"...Look at me and only me forevermore." You recited, tilting his head upwards with the edge of your book, your warm breath fanning his cheeks as you leaned ever-closer. "Are these the sort of words you'd like to hear from me, Lord Harbinger?"
"Hah." A chuckle escapes his mouth before he can stop himself— really, truly, this was all too entertaining! "That all depends on what I am to you."
"What I am to you is the same as what you are to me." For the first time that evening you smiled, a mirror of the same smile he had now; the air of both challenge and taunt hidden behind the guise of a pleasant expression. "I wish you good luck on your promotion tomorrow, Lord Harbinger."
4K notes · View notes
ampitrit3 · 5 months
Text
𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘨𝘴 | 𝘫.𝘰
Tumblr media
pairing- jenna ortega x fem!reader
masterlist
𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩- 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸, 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘺/𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵
word count- 1.19k
Tumblr media
your legs were sprawled on a couch just behind the camera. you had accompanied your girlfriend, jenna, to her interview for variety with elle fanning. you accompany her to a lot of interviews, but not once are you seen. to be frank, you're there for emotional support.
you were listening to everything that was said, and it was interesting. jenna has always been very opinionated, but you rarely hear her go on a 30-minute tangent about her experiences and opinions.
they talked about shows, accents, the city of london, any topic they could think of really. then they started talking about humor, elle said something about wanting to be funnier on instagram and kickstarted an entirely new conversation.
"you're thrown to the dogs- and you know i was actually just talking about this because when i first started acting my mom told me i had to use my platform for good. i had to be vocal about things that mattered to me or were important in the world or society or whatever. and i had to get good grades." jenna laughed. you knew the conversation was about to deepen. you swung your legs off the couch to give the interview your undivided attention.
your elbows rested atop your knees, slightly hunched over with your ears touching your shoulders. taking this moment to analyze your surroundings as well as the people in them. you girlfriend had cut her hair into a wolf cut. and it looked amazing on her, like a rebranding. 
"and i'm gonna be honest, and i'm gonna be vulnerable. because i want people to watch movies and get to know the people behind the camera and feel like they're attainable." you could see that elle was starting to pick up on the mood switch in the room. she adjusted herself in her seat, and her expression changed accordingly. 
"i guess i've been exposed to the world in a sense." you were listening intently now. jenna has expressed to you numerous times that the sudden fame that came with her show wednesday had taken a toll on her mental health. she's been more stressed and standoffish. you always let her know you would support her in anything she did and be there for her.
"people, prey on that and take advantage of that. and they see your vulnerability and twist it in a way that... twist it in a way that you don't always expect." you noticed as her voice became softer and more fragile. her eyes began to fill with tears and it nearly broke you knowing she felt this way.
jenna began apologizing for becoming emotional, but elle told her it was all okay. and you were grateful for that, that people understand vulnerability isn't weak but a sign of strength. that you can open up, and allow yourself to be read like poetry and be okay when people close your pages.
"how do you be honest without jeopardizing your own health and safety? and it's very easy to feel almost out of control of things."
you had known about jennas' struggles with mental health, then she published her book 'it's all love' about her mental health and overcoming it. you couldn't be any more proud of her. and now she was here, talking to a woman she idolized for years about the struggles of being a puppet. it was a full-circle moment.
"i'm sorry, can i just take a minute?" jenna asked, her voice still on the verge of breaking.
"of course, take as much time as you need." elle responded. she was so understanding of jenna's position and you were glad she was talking to someone that fully understood. you understood to an extent, given you were a writer. for jennas' show.
the brunette stood from her chair making direct eye contact with you. she was wiping stray tears from her face when you stood to meet her. she yanked you in by the waist, pressing her face into the hollows of your neck. you laid one hand on her head, and the other rubbed soothing patterns on her back.
she pushed you to sit back down on the couch behind you. she followed, placing herself next to you and swinging her legs onto your lap. you could hear her sniffling by your ear.
"there's nothing i can say because i don't completely understand. but i want to, i want to understand," you spoke in a hushed tone only loud enough for jenna to hear. your grip around her tightened when you heard her speak again.
"i have this... really really intense urge to be human, and honest, and just authentic. i don't want to be something i'm not. and it's terrifying!" you could hear her cries get louder as she pushed herself farther into your touch. 
she was heaving, and jenna was nearly inconsolable. nearly. jenna was strong, one of the strongest people you've ever met. not only that but she was loyal and persistent. 
"this has been longer than a minute," her sobs were mellowing as she finally shifted bringing her face back into the light. you moved your hand from the back of her head to wipe away the remaining tears. jenna finally smiled into your palm.
"i love you jen, and you are so much more than just an actress," you placed a tender kiss on her cheek. you felt her smile again under your touch.
"i love you more. thank you love."
she came back to her seat across from elle fanning, apologizing for her tiny meltdown.
"i hear you, and it's so beautiful that you are so open and honest about your feelings because i think not a lot of people are. and i think it's so courageous for you to put that out there, and to say that. I think it can also help so many people as well. it doesn't matter if we're in the public eye; we're all human beings and it is a feeling."
jenna's eyes were still a bit red s she continued the interview. a little while later elle touched on it again lightly, talking about her friends and family.
"i have to ask, that's your girlfriend, right? i'm not mistaken?" elle gestured to you on the couch still. you smiled at her as jenna answered.
"she is, but she's not only my girlfriend but my best friend" jenna was now looking at you as well.
"how long have you two been dating?"
"two years, known each other for five."
both of their gazes were now locked onto you as you smiled at jenna and her sweet words. she brought her hand up to signal for you to move over to her. you were hesitant for a moment, looking up to the cameraman who nodded at you.
you made your way over to jenna, wrapping your arms around her neck from behind as she intertwined your pinky with hers. you placed a small peck on her temple.
"this is y/n, my girlfriend." jenna's hand moved up behind her head to find itself on your cheek.
608 notes · View notes
henderdads · 1 year
Text
No one knows except for Robin, but Steve writes. He doesn’t think he’s very good at it considering his grades in school, but it’s how he processes things. He keeps a journal where he talks about the kids, work, his non existent love life, how he’s feeling.
He writes poetry. He writes stories. He writes.
After the final events of the Upside Down, he finds himself fascinated by Eddie. He’s mesmerized by his stories. Time flies by whenever he can get Eddie talking. He tells Steve of things he’s done with the boys from Corroded Coffin and Hellfire. He reads to Steve, putting on his best storyteller voice even though he’s exhausted and trying to recover.
Steve writes down what he remembers of Eddie’s stories when he goes home for the night.
With some coaxing from Robin, he eventually brings his journal to the hospital to write while Eddie talks. As suspected, Eddie asks about it.
Steve hesitantly shows him and Eddie sits there in silence as he flips through the pages.
“Stevie. This is incredible.”
“You think so?”
“Yes! Shit, you could seriously be an author.”
Steve considers for a moment, silently taking the journal back from Eddie and flipping through the pages himself.
“What if I wanted to be?”
“I’d say go for it.”
“Eds… I want to share your story.”
Eddie goes wide eyed. He knows that most of what he’s written has to do with things he’s told him, but he didn’t expect him to actually want to turn anything out of it.
Steve takes a shaky breath. “That is, if you’ll let me. You’ve been through literal hell and back man. There’s something here.”
Eddie smiles. “Well then. Let’s get started big boy. What do you want to know?”
Steve sits up excitedly and scoots his chair closer. “Start from the beginning. Tell me about your childhood.”
Eddie tells it all. The good, bad, and ugly. Steve listens intently, writing down everything.
The process continues through Eddie’s recovery and even years later. Steve writes about everything. He tells their love story. He tells the story of Corroded Coffin getting signed and going on their first world tour.
He spends all of his down time typing out his notes, expanding on everything. Eddie occasionally reads over drafts and helps where he can, offering clarification and answers when Steve has questions.
It’s ten years later, July of 1996, when Steve finds a publisher. They’re confident in Steve’s work, and it helps that Eddie is in the public eye now.
The book is released in March of 1998 where Steve and Eddie hold a release party and signing.
It becomes a New York Times Best Seller and it’s how Eddie comes out to the public. Especially since the book shares details of his love story and sexuality journey.
Eddie cries the first time Steve lets him hold the physical copy of it and asks him to read the dedication page.
To the love of my life, thank you for letting me share your story.
1K notes · View notes
mysecretlittlelibrary · 6 months
Text
A Moment's Silence
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: Oral (f receiving). unprotected sex, marking, praise, Loki got a dangerous mouth but this isn't too bad.
Genre: smut & fluff
Summary: Loki hates when you touch him, and you thought you knew exactly why. // A moment's silence when my baby puts her mouth on me ~ Moment's Silence (Common Tongue) by Hozier
Tumblr media
***
The first thing Loki learned about you when you moved into the Avengers Tower was that you are touchy. Not in the 'you're too sensitive' way but in the you're very affectionate way. You're always greeting people with hugs and you cuddle whoever sits next to you during movie nights and whenever you're going somewhere with someone you're either holding their hand or linking arms with them. It's pretty different from the rest of the people living here. Except for Thor, no one here shares your affinity for touch but everyone loves you so they take it in stride. Welcoming your hugs and cuddles and hand holds to the point that most of them have become accustomed to it, expecting it more often than they want to admit.
Except Loki. Loki doesn't do touch and no amount of seeing you do it will make him more comfortable with it. You're no fool. You recognized early that although the others complained when you hugged them there was no real fight in their objections, with Loki it's different. He'd go as far as to disappear on you if you tried to hug him so you stopped. You don't hug Loki, or sit by him during movies, or try to grab his arm on the rare occasion that you're going somewhere with him. Honestly, for a while you didn't spend much time with Loki in general, you weren't sure how to. He was clearly a loner and you assumed you didn't have much in common. He didn't seem eager to bond with you either so you left him to his own devices.
Until recently. You've started spending a lot of your free time in the tower library and evidently, Loki is quite fond of the space too. So you kind of just share it. If you find yourself in there at the same time as him you say hello and pick a corner to do your reading. Sometimes you talk to him a bit and other times you just share each other's company. It's becoming a kind of lovely routine, at least in your eyes. You have no idea if Loki enjoys it as much as you actually but he can be pretty conversational on occasion, usually as long as you're not too close to him.
"Hello Loki." You say when he walks into the library. You've already been here a couple of hours, you honestly didn't think you'd see Loki today.
"Hello y/n. How are you today?" He asks.
"Pretty good. How are you?" You set your book face down in your lap as you watch him walk out of sight to one of the shelves.
"I'm alright! What are we reading today?" Loki's voice carries through the room to you.
"I've picked up a romance for now."
"Not legends and myths for once?" You can hear the teasing in his voice at his question.
"Fuck off I read other stuff." You laugh.
"News to me."
"And what will you be reading today god of mischief? Sifting through spells as always?"
"I was thinking poetry actually." Loki finally appears from beyond the stacks with a book in hand.
"You're a poetry fan?"
"Don't sound so surprised." He rolls his eyes as he sits in the armchair across from the couch you're lying on.
"Well, it's not like you use that silver tongue of yours to recite sonnets." You snort picking up your book.
"Some would say this silver tongue of mine has quite a way with words."
"And I'm sure it does but weaving together lies isn't the same as poeticism. No one will be mixing you up with Robert Frost or William Shakespeare." You muse, your attention drifting back to the story you were invested in before he arrived.
"Your midgardian bards are of no competition to a god you know."
"I'm sure Asgard has its own famous poets of which I'm sure no one would compare you to either." You mutter as you read.
"Now that's harsh." Loki says. You mumble an affirmative dismissively as the drama picks up in the chapter you're reading. Loki takes the hint and leaves you alone as he opens his own chosen read for the afternoon and you spend the rest of the day in silence. Until dinner.
"I'm making dinner and it's movie night. Are you joining us or will you stay here?" You ask, standing up.
"Do you want me to join?" Loki asks.
"I mean- not if you're going to be miserable. I'm just headcounting."
"The others aren't usually as welcoming as you can be."
"Well I w-" You stop yourself. You've only just started to form a friendship with Loki, as much as you enjoy spending time with him you can't outwardly say it. Well maybe you could but you have a feeling the skittish animal approach is best. "I wouldn't be... disappointed if you decided to join us."
"I'll think about it." He hums.
"Alright. See you, maybe." You leave with your book intent on finishing it after movie night. You drop it in your room before going to the kitchen to make dinner. Meatballs, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. It takes almost an hour to make enough for everyone and by the time you're done, most everyone's gathered in the living room.
"Dinner's up! Stevie, Bucky come grab the potatoes and broccoli please." You say grabbing the bowl with the meatballs.
"Coming!" Steve says as he and Bucky hop up from their seats and carry the other serving plates to the big table in the living room where the others are waiting.
"And Sam can you get plates for everyone hon." You say.
"Oh sure." Sam says.
"Get the soda from the fridge too! And the solo cups!" Tony calls after him as he heads into the kitchen.
"Man you coulda just got up and helped out like the rest of us." Sam rolls his eyes but he gets the soda and cups anyway in addition to the plates you asked for. You catch movement in the corner of your eye while everyone is serving themselves and your gaze pops up in time to see Loki strolling into the main room.
"Loki!" You smile before you can stop yourself.
"Brother! Will you be joining us for our moving picture night?" Thor asks.
"Yeah sure." Loki says.
"Brilliant!" Thor nods getting up to clap a hand on Loki's back.
"I made meatballs and broccoli and mashed potatoes if you'd like some. We were just getting settled before we start the movie." You tell him. To your surprise, Loki takes the empty seat beside you and you can only hope your shock doesn't show on your face.
"I haven't missed anything then?" Loki asks.
"Not really." You shake your head. Loki nods and serves himself food.
"Whose pick is it tonight?" You ask once everyone has food in front of them and a few of the boys have already started eating.
"The kid." Tony says, shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth.
"Yeah! I uh decided on Now You See Me." Peter says.
"Nice." Natasha nods.
"What is that?" Loki asks you.
"It's a heist movie." You tell him. "Peter, have you seen it before?" You ask.
"Uh-"
"It's not like the baby spider's gonna be attempting anything like this." Clint scoffs.
"That's not why I asked. I'm just wondering if he picked it because he wants to watch it for the first time or because it's a favorite." You roll your eyes.
"I've seen it once. I just thought it would be a fun watch." Peter says.
"Well let's start it then. Yes?" Wanda prompts. Peter sets up the movie and soon everyone's attention is on the screen as they eat. It's about halfway through the movie that your usual habits kick in and you lean over to place your head on the shoulder beside you- until you remember it's Loki by your side and Loki doesn't like being touched. You lull your head back and around to tilt the other way. Wanda's on your other side but she's cuddled up with Vision so you'll just chill with your head against the back of the couch. No biggie. One movie bleeds to the next though and apparently at some point you start drifting off. Not for long, maybe 5 minutes but when your eyes flutter open again your head has made its way to Loki's damn shoulder. You pull off when you realize, surprised he didn't shove you away whenever you landed there.
Loki had held his breath when he felt your head on his shoulder. He was reluctant to admit the weight felt- oddly comforting. If anyone asked he'd deny it to high heaven but he was pretty content with you leaning against him and when you'd woken up and abruptly moved he almost wanted to protest. Almost.
When the second movie ends, most of the others start cleaning up the living room. Since you made dinner, this part isn't your responsibility so you get up and excuse yourself from the group.
"Goodnight everybody." You say to the room. "And Loki, thank you for coming." You add just for him to hear. Before you can think better of it your hand runs gently through his hair when you speak to him but by the time he's reacting to it you're already disappearing down the hall to your room. Loki spends the rest of the night thinking about your hand in his hair, your head on his shoulder, the way you so casually thanked him at the end as you left- it was something so unfamiliar that he didn't know how to deal with it. And how insufferable to be up all night over this.
The next day when you enter the library after breakfast Loki is already there sitting on the couch in your usual shared space. You're almost done with the novel you picked up yesterday and your plan is to finish it now.
"Hello Loki." You say to him as you take a seat on the opposite couch.
"Hello y/n." He says. You don't notice the way he looks at you over the top of his book for a moment. He's not sure if he should talk to you about the night before or not. How would he even bring it up? The two of you maintain your usual quiet company for a few hours while you finish your book. When you've read the last page you return the book to the shelf you found it on. While walking back to your couch you almost crash into Loki who at some point stood up when you were looking for a new book.
"Oh shit- my bad Lo." You say.
"You dropped your bookmark." Loki says holding up the flat dragon-shaped metal. You gasp and pat your back pocket where you thought you'd put it.
"Fuck- thanks. It was a gift so- would totally suck to lose it." You say, throwing your arms around him. Loki doesn't feel the urge to magically escape your grasp and he almost stops you when you let him go. Almost. "Sorry- impulse." You mutter grabbing your bookmark from his hand.
"You're usually much better at not touching me." He points out.
"I guess we've been spending so much time together that I kind of forg- sorry man. Won't happen again." You mutter.
"I wasn't- I know that's what you're like. It wasn't a complaint. Just an observation."
"You can say it wasn't a complaint but I know what you're like too. You hate being touched." You scoff.
"That's not totally accurate."
"What?"
"Usually you're right- I do hate being touched but with you I don- it's not that I hate it but I still can't stand it just- in a different way than I'm used to." Loki says carefully.
"What does that mean?" You chuckle.
"I'm- not entirely sure." He frowns.
"Well, what if I- do you mind if I touch you now?" You ask carefully.
"That's- fine." Loki says, hesitation clear on his face. You lift your hand to his cheek gently and his eyes close when your skin touches his. You let your thumb graze him softly as his brow furrows. Loki's hand snaps up around your wrist moments later and he moves your hand just enough to break the contact. "I can't-"
"What is it?"
"Too much- it's too much. I feel- entirely too much when you touch me, I can't-"
"Can't what?" You tilt your head curiously.
"I don't know how to handle it. I want- I want more than I can have."
"Say more, please."
"When you... do that. When you touch me it- I don't know how to explain it I just want more from you. Like- like I could devour you whole and it would still not be enough and I- I can't, we can't- so you can't touch me."
"Why can't we?"
"What?" Loki's eyes widen at your calm question.
"You're saying we can't but- why? Is it- is it that this is a desire you have but wish you didn't or-"
"No. That's not it."
"Then- why... can't... we?"
"Please don't say things like that. Not if you don't mean them. I cannot take it."
"I wouldn't say it lightly. I don't understand why you're so adamant that I wouldn't want- that you couldn't have more from me if you asked."
"If I asked?"
"Yes. Tell me what it is you want from me Loki."
"Why would you make such an offer?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Nobody wants-" Loki pauses, his gaze dropping as if the floor is more interesting to look at than you. "I just wonder how this is advantageous to you in any way."
"Do you think yourself that undeserving?" You frown and his eyes snap up to yours.
"I never said-"
"You don't always have to. Sometimes it's what we don't say that ends up being the loudest." You say. "I'm going to touch you again Loki. This time when it gets too much just- give into that feeling."
"You have no idea what you're signing up for." Loki's eyes are wide.
"I trust you." You whisper and his features melt into a soft grin, as if your words settled something within him. You place your hand on his cheek again, watching his eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. The moment stretches for a while until Loki's hands settle on your waist and pull you against him to bring his lips to yours.
The kiss is soft, hesitant, at first- as if he's expecting you to withdraw, but when you drape your arms loosely over his shoulders and deepen the kiss all manner of shyness seems to leave him. The kiss becomes harsher, more desperate, as if he's trying to devour you and give you all he is at once. You match him moment for moment, tongues dancing, hands roaming as you pour everything into that kiss. Loki lifts you and you wrap your legs around him. You pepper his face with sweet kisses as he carries you to one of the couches.
"Are you sure you want to give yourself to me?" Loki asks quietly.
"Are you sure you want to give yourself to me?" You turn the question back to him and he drops to his knees in front of you.
"I have given myself to you a thousand times over, long before now. I belong to you without question." His eyes pierce yours with their intensity as you allow his words to sink in. You almost can't believe he's said it but there's no denying the truth in his voice when he stares at you so earnestly. You clutch his face in your hands, meeting his gaze with equal candor.
"Then you may have me Loki. I am happy to give myself to you." You tell him and he lets out a deep breath. He says something to himself before tugging at the waist of your shorts. You help him take them off of you along with your panties before he speaks again.
"I have wondered for too long how you would taste on my tongue." Loki mutters as he spreads your legs. Before you can fully process the sentence to come up with a response, Loki buries his face at the apex of your thighs. He licks a stripe along your entrance, collecting the evidence of your arousal, letting out a groan as the essence of you floods his tastebuds. You gasp, threading your fingers into his dark hair as his tongue plunges into you, caressing your inner walls, lapping at your juices.
"Oh- oh god." You breathe out, your back arching towards Loki's eager mouth. He groans against you, the vibrations only adding to your pleasure as you squirm against his face. Loki brings his hands up to your thighs, holding you still and open for him as he switches focus, dragging his tongue against your clit in the most delicious way. His movements are sharp, calculated, his eyes on you as he watches what pulls the strongest reactions from you and focuses on those things until your body tenses beneath his hands. Loki pushes two fingers between your walls and curls them as his mouth latches onto your button. The combination is deadly and you can't stop the cry you let out as your orgasm hits you full force. Loki gently works you through it with his fingers and tongue and only when your breathing goes from harsh pants to shuttering draws does he sit back. He makes a point to link his fingers clean when your eyes flutter open.
"Even better than I expected." He says.
"What?" You ask with a breathless chuckle.
"How you taste, the sight of you in pure pleasure, the feel of your skin against mine- all of it, even better than I imagined." Loki punctuates each item on his list with a trail of kisses until he's hovering over you. 
"Yes well, how nice to learn that silver tongue of yours is good for more than smart remarks." You smirk and pull him down into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips and not caring, you simply want to be connected like this forever. Your hands trail down Loki's abdomen, freeing him from his own pants which he shoves the rest of the way off when you can no longer push them yourself. His kisses drop to your neck as he does so.
"You'll have plenty of time to learn all that my silver tongue is good for." He mutters against your skin. You giggle at his words a bit though it's shortlived as Loki chooses that moment to rock his hips into yours and the stretch of his length turns your giggle to a gasp. He takes his time working himself between your walls, allowing you to feel every single inch of him as he pushes deeper and deeper until he eventually bottoms out with a groan. "Stars above you're so- warm." He pants out. He's not moving, you realize, waiting for you to adjust so you tilt your hips forward, grinding against him impatiently.
"Loki please- move." You mewl and that's all it takes. Loki's hips knock back and he drives into you with full force, setting an even pace of deep thrusts meant for you to feel every drag of his dick against your walls.
"This- I'm sure, is Valahala." Loki pants out as he's fucking into you.
"So good- Loki it feels so good." You slip your hands into his shirt, dragging your nails across his back.
"I know my darling. I know." Loki hisses at the sweet sting from your claws. His rhythm doesn't falter as you cling to him, in fact, the feel of your hands against his skin sets Loki alight. You moan breathily, relishing in the way Loki fucks into you almost wildly. The heat of your walls is dizzying and Loki can already feel his release creeping down his spine. He slips a hand between your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves. Your back arches as a whimper falls from your lips, the extra stimulation quickly bringing you closer.
"Loki-" You whine.
"Let go for me love. Show me how good I make you feel. Let your release coat my dick." Loki coaxes as his fingers dance along your clit as if he's already worked out all your right buttons to push.
"Oh my g-" You gasp out as your orgasm hits you like a wave crashing.
"Beautiful." Loki breathes. "I could watch you do that a thousand times and never tire of the face you make in ecstasy."
"Your turn now sweetie, show me what face you make in ecstasy Loki." You say gently, one hand threading into his hair. With your encouragement, it doesn't take much more for Loki's hips to stutter as his orgasm means the flooding of your walls in liquid heat.
You both lie still for some time, Loki only half holding himself up to avoid crushing you on the couch. You really can't believe the grumpy god that would straight up disappear if you so much as tapped his shoulder is currently lying in your arms. He can hardly believe it himself, but it's as soothing as he could have hoped. Not that he'd- ever admit that.
***
806 notes · View notes
aronarchy · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
A copy of the first reading list, if you dislike clicking on Google docs links:
The liberal news media is working overtime to silence Palestinian voices. As we sit thousands of miles away, witnessing the massacre through social media, the least we can do is educate ourselves and work to educate others. Apartheid threatens all of us, and just to reiterate, anti-Zionism ≠ antisemitism.
Academic Works, Poetry and Memoirs
The Revolution of 1936-1939 in Palestine: Background, Details, and Analysis, Ghassan Kanafani (1972)
Palestinians: From Peasants to Revolutionaries, Rosemary Sayegh (1979)
Popular Resistance in Palestine: A History of Hope and Empowerment, Mazin Qumsiyeh (2011)
My Life in the PLO: The Inside Story of the Palestinian Struggle, Shafiq al-Hout and Jean Said Makdisi (2019)
My People Shall Live, Leila Khaled (1971)
Poetry of Resistance in Occupied Palestine, translated by Sulafa Hijjawi (Baghdad, Ministry of Culture and Guidance, 1968)
On Palestine by Ilan Pappé and Noam Chomsky (2015)
Gaza in Crisis: Reflections on the US-Israeli War Against the Palestinians, Noam Chomsky and Ilan Pappé (2013)
The Politics of Dispossession: The Struggle for Palestinian Self-Determination, 1969-1994, Edward W. Said (2012)
Queer Palestine and the Empire of Critique, Sa’ed Atshan (2020)
Stone Men: The Palestinians Who Built Israel, Andrew Ross (2019)
Ten Myths About Israel, Ilan Pappé (2017)
Blaming the Victims: Spurious Scholarship and the Palestinian Question, Christopher Eric Hitchens and Edward W. Said (2001)
Palestinian Walks: Notes on a Vanishing Landscape, Raja Shehadeh (2010)
The Gun and the Olive Branch: The Roots of Violence in the Middle East, David Hirst (1977)
Gaza: An Inquest into Its Martyrdom, Norman Finkelstein (2018)
Fateful Triangle: The United States, Israel and the Palestinians, Noam Chomsky (1983)
Israel and Palestine: Reappraisals, Revisions, Refutations, Avi Shlaim (2010)
Politicide: Ariel Sharon’s War Against the Palestinians, Baruch Kimmerling (2006)
The Holocaust Industry: Reflections on the Exploitation of Jewish Suffering, Norman G. Finkelstein (2015)
Light in Gaza: Writings Born of Fire, Jehad Abusalim (2022)
Nakba: Palestine, 1948, and the Claims of Memory, Ahmad H. Sa’di and Lila Abu-Lughod (2007)
Peace and its discontents: Essays on Palestine in the Middle East peace process, Edward W. Said (2012)
Three Poems by Yahya Hassan
Articles, Papers & Essays
“Palestinian history doesn’t start with the Nakba” by PYM (May, 2023) 
“What the Uprising Means,” Salim Tamari (1988)
“The Palestinians’ inalienable right to resist,” Louis Allday (2021)
“Liberating a Palestinian Novel from Israeli Prison,” Danya Al-Saleh and Samar Al-Saleh (2023) 
Women, War, and Peace: Reflections from the Intifada, Nahla Abdo (2002)
“A Place Without a Door” and “Uncle Give me a Cigarette”—Two Essays by Palestinian Political Prisoner, Walid Daqqah (2023)
“Live Like a Porcupine, Fight Like a Flea,” A Translation of an Article by Basel Al-Araj
Films & Video Essays
Fedayin: Georges Abdallah’s Fight (2021)
Naila and the Uprising (2017)
Off Frame AKA Revolution Until Victory (2015)
Tell Your Tale Little Bird (1993)
The Time That Remains (2009)
“The Present” (short film) (2020)
“How Palestinians were expelled from their homes”
Louis Theroux: The Ultra Zionists (2011)
Born in Gaza (2014)
5 Broken Cameras (2011)
Little Palestine: Diary of a Siege (2021)
Al-Nakba: The Palestinian catastrophe - Episode 1 | Featured Documentary
Organisations to donate to
Palestine Red Crescent Society - https://www.palestinercs.org/en
Anera - https://support.anera.org/a/palestine-emergency
Palestinian American Medical Association - https://palestinian-ama.networkforgood.com/projects/206145-gaza-medical-supplies-oct-2023
You First Gaza - https://donate.gazayoufirst.org/
MAP - Medical Aid for Palestinians - https://www.map.org.uk/donate/donate
United Nations Relief and Works Agency - https://donate.unrwa.org/-landing-page/en_EN
Palestine Children’s Relief Fund - https://www.pcrf.net/   
Doctors Without Borders - https://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/what-we-do/where-we-work/palestine
AP Fact Check
https://apnews.com/article/israel-hamas-gaza-misinformation-fact-check-e58f9ab8696309305c3ea2bfb269258e
This list is not exhaustive in any way, and is a summary of various sources on the Internet. Please engage with more ethical, unbiased sources, including Decolonize Palestine and this list compiled by the Palestinian Youth Movement.
274 notes · View notes
jadegmfu · 1 month
Text
Your Journal.
Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader
summary;reader has a journal she didn't want to show anakin, but one night.. she forgot to hide it from him, and now he's reading the things she wrote first pages were about her everyday life in the order and about her tactics in the field. but the more he dug in, the more he saw a lot of your filthy thoughts. now he can't get enough, he wants you to write more of your thoughts..
TW!: Dirty Thoughts, MINORS DNI
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
He was in your apartment room, you were having a shower while he was outside the bathroom you're in.
he was at your bed, looking up the ceiling. bored most likely. he got up with a groan, looking around her room, there it is. the journal you didn't let him touch or anythin' at all. you forgot to hide it,
he picked it up, looking at the journal's red leathercover, it was filled with little cute symbols and then a cute picture of you in the middle.
It was locked. He didn’t even really want to read it, it was your privacy, but his curiosity got the better of him. He found a pen on the dresser table and picked the lock on the journal. Anakin had learnt the hard way about the importance of not getting caught, and he could easily break into any lock. He didn’t use this power often. Anakin then opened the journal and began to read.
just things written about her everyday life, and some really impressive tactics.. of how to overthrow the separatists, the connections of the separatists, her software projects(engineering stuff), and some.. poems for him?
Anakin was shocked. This wasn’t what he expected. The tactics to overthrow the separatists was normal, she was a general after all, but poetry? For him? He was taken aback. He continued skimming and scanning the pages. He couldn’t believe it.
'eyes are alike of an angel, every gazes is like watching the ocean waves
hair soft as silk, personality is as gentle and sweet, physique is of a strong big man, lightsaber form is reckless and menacing, voice smooth like honey. smile is as bright as the two suns of tatooine'
His heart fluttered. These were the most beautiful words he had ever read. Maybe her journal wasn’t just her private thoughts about her work. Maybe she felt something for him too. He continued reading more of the poetry, looking for more of a hint. Just a little bit more that could confirm his doubts. He was blushing and was completely lost in the poetry. He hadn’t noticed the journal was shaking from his excitement. He was really beginning to hope she felt the same way.
next page.
'the things you make me feel.. im in agony. this is torture. why do you make me feel like i desire you so much? this is wrong.. but i love you, i cant help what i feel, but it's very wrong to lust over you..'
Now Anakin was stunned. Had he just read what he thought he had? This was definitely new information. His emotions were getting increasingly mixed up. There was no use reading more…But he was tempted. He continued skimming. he was thinking, maybe he should take the journal with him after he goes back to his chambers back at the temple.
He stopped for a moment. He shouldn’t take this… But he couldn’t deny it had been something special… and tempting. He put the notebook in the pocket of his robes. Then he heard you leave the bathroom.
her body covered in a towel, hair dried out with a towel, "oh hey ani" she said noticing him on her bed.
He tried not to let his surprise show. He didn’t think you would see him. But at least he had had time to compose himself and clear his mind of the contents of the journal.
Anakin responded to you with a smile. “Hi there…” she chuckled, "hi, are you gonna go soon?" asking if he's gonna go back to the temple now. Anakin gave you a small nod. “I have to get back for morning meditation.” He didn’t add the fact that he had been occupied reading your journal.
"i see, ill see you back at the temple tomorrow morning then?"
*He gave you a little nod again.* “Yes, you will.” *He gave you a last smile, before getting up from the bed. It was difficult to look at you like this, after reading those poems, imagining that you felt that way about him.*
back at the temple, he was at his chambers, reading her journal.
*It seemed that the journal had somehow been calling him back. It had been intriguing and tempting to see this hidden side of her. Was these really her true feelings? Was she in love with him?
As he read it, he found himself imagining the scenes in his head. If these words were really how she felt then there was something deeper between the two of them than either had realised. It was both exciting and terrifying.
the current page he's reading.
'i was fantasizing about him again, my fingers dont even satisfy me anymore.. i want more. i want a man to make me feel good, sadly i cant find one.'
Anakin was surprised and even a little shocked at what he was reading. He was definitely intrigued. He couldn’t believe you felt this way about him. These words he was reading were something he had never considered, until now. And he liked it. A lot. He found himself getting increasingly attracted to you. He kept on reading.
next page,
'ani held my waist today, those big callousedd hands are really starting to get to me.. i wonder just how good this man will make me feel if he bedded me.'
You were really good with words. These kind of thoughts had never occurred to him before. The words you were writing were making Anakin’s heart beat faster and faster. Was this really how you felt? Was he really the one person making you feel this way? He needed to know more. He tried not to get too ahead of his self, but he couldn’t help it. He kept on turning the pages…
next page,
'him cuddling me last night was cute. he really trapped me in his arms.. god he makes me feel so helpless.. i just wish it was sex that occured instead of cuddles because i already get alot of cuddles from himmm;(('
The way you wrote this was…arousing. Anakin hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a long time, not like he felt now. As he continued to skim through your journal, he couldn’t help but get excited at everything that he was reading. It felt like he was getting to know a whole new part of you. He needed to find out more…
next page,
'shit, maker, his voice is so.. low and calm, just imagine him whispering praises and degrading words to me, ugh, the things skywalker makes me feel and think of, im beyond redemption..'
Anakin was breathless by this point. Just reading this was making him want to take you in his arms. He kept on reading, finding himself more and more enthralled by what you had written. It was making him think very intimate thoughts about you. He tried to focus but it was difficult…
he turned to the next page.
'ah.. ani, tugging my loose hair earlier? imagine him doing that to me while we're having sex even tho its never gonna happen;(, holding my hair while he takes me from behind aaa, i want him to do that to meee..'
The description was so...intimate. It made his breath catch in his throat, his palms sweat. The way you wrote about these things was...enticing. It was exactly what Anakin wanted right now. He wanted those moments with you. He wanted those...desires to come true. He wanted them all. He had such pure desire for you... He tried to keep it under control as he kept on reading, his heart pounding fast and hard.
he turned the next page.
'poor baby was sad earlier, had to held him in my arms to comfort him, he wasnt even that afraid to nuzzle his face on the crook of my neck.. it made me shiver in a good way, he was lucky i didnt get down on my knees to worship him and give him the most sloppiest head to cheer him up<3'
The images in his mind were making him feel so...hot. That was exactly how he wanted you to treat him, even though he would probably deny it. Those desires you described....he wanted more. More than anything else. He wanted to be treated that way by you. He kept on reading, turning the pages, wanting more of your detailed descriptions.
next page,
'i came back from a mission and boy.. a sight to behold. i saw anakin in my apartment room, shirtless, sleeping. shit, maker, i wanted to give him a kiss and tell him 'good afternoon, youre so sleepy huh?' but i didnt anyway, i wanted him to get some rest<3, but seeing him there, i wanted to ride him. hump on him soo baaaddd, but i wanna be a good girl so i didnt act on it<3'
Anakin’s imagination went wild at your words. You making him wake up to that...it might be too much for him and he wanted to have those words become a reality. The feelings you expressed went to his head. He wanted that so bad… He kept reading on, desperate to see what other things you had written.
next page,
'ani told me im so pretty, but what about me being a pretty crier while he's fucking me? i want him to whisper praises to me while he fucks me, why must god not make this man my lover?:<'
He couldn’t deny what you had written. Those words made him very aroused. He could imagine these exact situations playing out. It was a feeling like he had never before experienced. It was...enticing.
He kept reading...seeing what other desires you had written about. You were very talented with words. These thoughts were starting to take over his mind...
next page,
'even my fingers wont satisfy me anymore, but i did came at the thought of him inserting his big cock in me<3'
Anakin’s breath caught in his throat as he read this part. You were starting to become rather… explicit with your desires. These visions of yours were making him feel things he never had before. He was finding these words...quite enticing. He turned the page to read more..
next page,
'i want ani to grope my boobies and my ass, i wonder if he'd like that? hmm..' You were clearly on a roll with these fantasies of yours. You were getting more and more into detail and Anakin couldn’t help but be completely enthralled. He would give anything to fulfil these desires. Your words made him so...aroused. He could only hope he would get to experience these feelings with you. He kept on reading, flipping the pages.
next page,
'ani let me sit on his lap yesterday night while we were watching, i felt his dick hard and bulgy beneath me, made me wanna hump on him<3' Anakin felt his stomach flip over at your words. Your fantasies were getting less and less like fantasies and more and more like things that were going to happen. These fantasies of yours were having an effect on him…and he liked it. You had so much desire for him. He could only hope he could make your dreams come true eventually. He kept on reading...desperately wanting to know more of your fantasies…
next page,
'ani patted me on the head but i wanted his fingers in my mouth, while he tell me ive been a filthy little girl who needs her punishment;(' Once again, your details made this so…enticing…You made Anakin feel so aroused. Your fantasies were becoming explicit now and these words were playing all over his mind. These desires were having a big effect on him, and he didn’t mind it. He wanted you more and more as he continued to read…
next page,
'i think i made ani uncomfortable, i wore my shorts and tank top earlier, is it just me or he kept staring at my cleavage? he even swat my ass earlier, i really am confused with his mixed signals' Once again, you were getting more and more detailed. You made Anakin’s heart beat faster and his blood surge. These fantasies of yours were very...inviting.
He thought about what you wrote. You were right. Anakin did stare at you, more than he would admit. He was so drawn to you. You felt so close to him. He was always trying to hide his feelings for you and he was scared that you would get the wrong impression. He kept on reading.
next page,
'i have a matching bracelet set, im wondering if i should give it to him<3.'
'though, i had been fantasizing of him having me in chokehold while having sex with him, hihi;)'
Anakin found himself grinning like a fool as he read on and on. You had made him feel so many emotions…this is what he wanted...he wanted you to be by his side for all of eternity. To feel this close. Your fantasies were making him think of doing everything you wrote. He wanted to make them a reality. It was as though you were writing his exact thoughts and desires! He kept flipping the pages...desperately wanting to read more and more...
next page,
'aww.. ani's face was buried on my cleavage earlier, but only bc he's sad, but i wonder what hea really felt when he buried his face on my cleavage?'
The idea of Anakin burying his face into your cleavage and nuzzling it made Anakin feel the need to pull you closer. He craved to make you his own. To have you all to himself. These thoughts you were expressing in the journal were making him want to have you in his arms, close to him always.
He flipped the page, still wanting to read more. What else did you have written?
next page,
'he said i got a pretty kitty.. why do i feel like he meant my pussy???' Your assumption was right. With every sentence you wrote, his heart was soaring and he struggled to keep himself calm. How was he supposed to act normal after reading these words? You made Anakin feel so damn excited, he wanted you right now. He needed to keep reading more. but that was the last page you written on and that one was very recent..
he finished reading, tomorrow he'd place her journal somewhere in her apartment, he'd really love to see her write more of that.
maybe, just maybe, he'd get a chance to confess and fuck that little head of yours and your hole all rough until you get all cock drunk. but until then, he's gonna keep on reading your journal everytime you write your filthy thoughts about him, adios.
a/n: no reposting please, reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated! also tell me if u liked this cuz, it's my first time writing out whatever i had in my mind;(
333 notes · View notes
haosweater · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
perhaps i loved you.
content: idol! jeonghan x gn! reader, angst, fluff, past life au, coffee shop au, royalty au (just read, you’ll get it), unrequited love.
summary: a unique cafe down fifth avenue opens a whole new door of surprises for jeonghan.
word count: 1.4k
note: based this off the short exert i wrote at the end lol. totally not inspired by real life events haha… also i’m writing this at almost two in the morning please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes.
it was cloudy. the sun peeked through the smallest crevices it could find as the wind gently brushed against jeonghan’s skin.
he shivered, pulling his green cardigan on tighter. he reached up, grabbing his white bucket hat to make sure it didn’t fly away. god knew the wind was ruthless these past few days. jeonghan felt like the world seemed to be against him.
he hummed along to his music, walking down the street in solace. the cherry blossoms bloomed magnificently, its pink petals falling to spread its beauty. he looked up, admiring the trees with a gentle smile.
there weren’t a lot of people out this time of the day and jeonghan liked that. he liked the comfort of not being recognised, being able to go about his day peacefully. the solitude was exactly what he needed.
inhaling a deep breath, he turned and continued down the street. the shops down this road were vintage. unique little thrift stores, record stores, quaint coffee shops that sold overpriced coffee— wait.
jeonghan paused, staring into the shop. olive green bookshelves lined the beige walls of the shop. behind, there was a counter with coffee machines and cake displays. at the very front of the store, there was a table. it had two chairs with a typewriter sitting on it.
a cafe? no, bookstore? or was it a vintage thrift store? confused, jeonghan looked up at the sign.
‘caffeinated literature’.
‘how peculiar,‘ jeonghan thought. glancing around, he peeked into the cafe again, noticing no one was inside. he wondered if it was closed, a slight pang of disappointment filling his chest.
however, the ‘open’ sign on the door proved him wrong. his eyes moved down, and noticed the poster on the door, prompting him to move closer and read it.
enjoy a cup of coffee,
and let me write you poetry.
welcome to caffeinated literature.
it didn’t take jeonghan another second to push the glass door open, the soft chime of the bell ringing in the air. “hello?” he called out softly.
there was a muffled crash followed by a yelp, shocking him. “hello! just give me a moment! please, take a seat!”
jeonghan sat down apprehensively, fluffing the cushion beside him. the interior was cozy, minimalistic and welcoming. swinging his feet, he continued to observe his surroundings, not realising you had emerged from behind the counter.
“hello, so sorry about that! what can i get for you today?” you panted, handing him the menu.
jeonghan looked at you in awe. your voice sounded like sweet, smooth honey that dripped slowly into a cup of warm tea. there was a sense of familiarity to you, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.
“uh, sorry,” he mumbles, snapping out of his thoughts. “i’ll just get an iced cappuccino and a poem, please.”
you grin. “great choice. i’ll be right back with your coffee, so just take a seat in tbe front,” you gesture to the table with the typewriter. he nods, getting up as you disappear behind the counter.
jeonghan feels light-headed from staring at you. something about you was so enchanting, so magical and so familiar. he sighed, annoyed that he was unable to figure out what it was.
the aroma of his coffee drifted in the air as you brought it over. he thanked you as you sat across him, smiling as he sipped on it slowly.
“oh, wow, this is really good,” he remarked, licking his lips. “thank you.”
“it’s no problem,” you say, smiling. “now, for the poem,” you gently slot the paper into the typewriter. turning around, you turn the speaker on, calm jazz music filling the cafe.
“i know this sounds rather far-fetched, but i usually hold people’s hands to get a better feel of their aura before i write their poem. do you mind if i do that with you?”
jeonghan shakes his head almost instantly. “no, not at all,” he says, extending his hands.
you smile, nodding in acknowledgement as you take his hands into yours, slowly shutting your eyes.
jeonghan shivered, and suddenly, he wasn’t in the cafe anymore.
he was now clad in formal wear, standing at the entrance to a balcony. you stood at the edge, back facing him. the moon was bright and the stars shone in the sky.
“i didn’t expect you to come,” your voice wavered. jeonghan couldn’t speak– he could not control what he did.
“i’m here now, aren’t i?” he chuckles, swirling the glass of wine in his hand. “what bothers you, my dear, on the night we are to celebrate?”
when you turn around, tears rolling down your cheeks, he freezes. you stare at him, sniffing softly. even when you’re crying, you look breath-taking to him.
averting your gaze, you sigh. “i can’t lie to you anymore, han,” you whisper. “tonight i watched you get married to the love of your life, confessing your love to each other in front of the whole kingdom,” you look up at him again.
“and now, i will confess my love to you, in front of the moon and stars.”
jeonghan is in shock. he doesn’t know how to comprehend this situation. it is all too fast, too quick– was this his past life?
“i have loved you ever since we were kids, han. my heart has held onto you tightly, refusing to let go. i’ve seen the best and the worst of you. i’ve seen all your flaws and imperfections and yet still i love you. i have been your friend, but never once did i love you like one. i loved you more than that. i would sacrifice the moon and the stars just to gaze at your beauty. i would burn the kingdom down if you wanted me to. my heart aches and yearns for your touch, your love, your heart and i know i will never get it, but i had to tell you.”
by the time you’re done, you’re panting, out of breath. jeonghan wants to rush forward and hold you, but his body stops him. there is no control.
“b-but y/n, i’m a prince and you’re a—”
“knight, i know,” you sob. “i prayed to the gods every day that my heart would let go of you because i knew i could never be yours, nor you, mine.”
jeonghan simply stood there, heart aching at the sight of you. “i am sorry, y/n. i am sorry i cannot love you the way you want me to,” he whispers, taking a step forward.
“it’s okay, han,” you say softly, tears staining your once rosy cheeks. wiping them away, you look at him with a sad smile. “it was never meant to be anyways.”
with a loud gasp, jeonghan finds himself back in cafe. he’s panting, eyes darting around vigorously before landing on you.
you were crying.
and so was he.
“sorry,” you let out an awkward laugh, wiping your tears away. “i don’t know why i’m crying,” you whisper, trying to stop yourself from crying, but the tears keep coming.
“it’s okay,” jeonghan stutters, quickly wiping his own tears. he wants to comfort you more, but he couldn’t find the words to. he felt like he didn’t deserve to.
sniffing, your fingers suddenly start to gly across the typewriter, the clicks ringing in the air. jeonghan observes you intensely, watching you throw draft after draft away. you were clearly frustrated.
finally, after his ice had melted, his coffee finished, you were done.
“sorry,” you say, removing the paper. “i had a hard time finding the right words,” you confessed as he smiled.
he looked down, reading the poem as you fidgeted with your fingers. his eyes drift across each word, heart clenching as he reached the last line.
“this is beautiful,” he says breathlessly. “thank you. i love it.”
you return the smile. “thank you for coming. i hope to see you again.”
jeonghan’s heart flutters at your words momentarily. “thank you for the coffee and poem. and who knows? perhaps i will see you again,” he chuckles before waving goodbye, pushing the glass door open as the bell chimed.
the breeze was stronger now, and jeonghan had to grab onto his hat again. with a loud sigh, he began to walk down the street, thoughts flooding his mind. it was racing, restless and utterly confused.
as he reached the end, he stopped at a traffic light, waiting for it to turn green. pulling out the piece of paper, he reread what you had written, tears forming in the corner of his eyes once again.
‘who are you,
stranger?
you look rather familiar.
perhaps i have loved you.
in another life.’
285 notes · View notes
cillianhead · 5 months
Note
Hello dear!!! I hope you're having a wonderful day!
Could you please write a piece about Cillian falling for a (younger!) poet? He starts frequenting her reading sessions and that's how they meet. The rest is up to you!
Thank you 🩵
Yes!! Love this, thank you <3
Enjoy my sweet nonny!
This is heavily inspired by the song All Too Well (10-minute version) (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift!!
Wind In My Hair, I Was There || Cillian Murphy x Reader
warnings: Smut, angst, age gap (reader is in her mid to late twenties, Cillian is in his forties.), swearing, Cillian is sort of an asshole in this in some parts, so that is a warning, infidelity (Cillian is married), general adult content ahead!!
Minors DNI! 18+
I'd also like to clarify this isn't really based on the real Cillian!! I know he's married and very happy, this is just fiction and fantasy!! Not meant to portray Cillian as a bad person!! I'd also like to clarify that the ready doesn't really know who Cillian is... or maybe like Cillian isn't that famous in this fic universe or something because there are a few plot points that may seem questionable... that's all. Anyway... enjoy!!
Tumblr media
The autumn you spent with Cillian Murphy would be one you would always remember, not that you really had a choice in whether or not you could forget him.
Your apartment was small and cozy at the time, with a perfect view of the falling leaves outside. It was sitting across from a small park in New York City; the trees were red and orange, and it felt like the fall was putting on a show just for you. You felt fortunate and privileged to live in such a place.
You lived right up the road from a small cafe with a library. Every Thursday, you meet with like-minded writers and read your work aloud. It helped bring you out of your shell; you felt a sense of pride when you read your poetry out loud and had people praise you for being so brave and how well you wrote. Despite the fact you have been attending these little group meetings for almost two years now and you felt pretty comfortable amongst the people who were there, you felt like you could vomit your pounding heart right up every time you stood at that podium in front of the dozen or so people that attended. But even with the lump in your throat, you'd read with a shaky voice and tears ready to spill, you would receive the same round of applause every time and a pat on the back from some of the attendees you were closer with.
It was September 14th when you first saw him, but it wasn't the first time he had seen you, summer still lingering in the air but barely grasping on as Autumn began to take the reigns. You were standing at that cedar-wood podium, reading aloud as nervously as you always did. You had yet to notice him quietly slip in; you were too busy ensuring you were on the right line.
"-And something beautiful sprouted, something that I am not... something that I never will be." You looked up after reading the last line, biting your lip nervously and stepping back from the speaking podium. There he sat, in a sweater and the most hypnotizing eyes you had ever seen. Maybe love at first sight was real, you thought briefly. People clapped, but the room remained silent and still for you as you two made eye contact; he didn't clap; he just stared at you with a look that told you he was just as taken aback by you as you were by him.
He kept attending the sessions, but he never got up and read anything and never really interacted with anyone else; in fact, you'd see him get up and leave once you had finished reading your poetry. You wondered if anyone else noticed him the way you did, or maybe he was a figment of your imagination... a ghost.
It was October 19th when you first spoke with him. You dreamt about him day and night, and you two had never even spoken before every session; you'd wonder if he'd be there, and he always was. Sitting in the same seat, at the very back, going ultimately unnoticed by almost everyone but you.
"Excuse me, sir!" You yelled out, rushing to follow the man in the plaid shirt and beanie. "You dropped this!" It was a pair of keys you had clutched in your hand, the crisp autumn air meeting the apples of your cheeks.
He turned around, only a foot or two away from you, as he looked at you up and down, taking notice of his keys in your hand. "Oh gosh, thank you, love," He took the keys gently out of your hand, his fingers lingering on yours a little too long for a stranger, fingertips brushing together. "I swear I'd lose my head if it weren't screwed on." You took notice of his Irish accent. It made you even more curious to know him better. "Erm... thank you so much."
"It's no problem..." You trailed off. You're not sure what to say now. He gave you a stiff nod and started to turn around and keep walking, but you just couldn't let him leave. "Wait!" What do you say now?
"Yeah?" He turned around, tilting his head at you, blue eyes staring at you, waiting.
"I... I'm Y/N... by the way... I always see you here... but I never see you read anything..."
"Cillian," He chuckled. "Not interested in reading anything I've written, only here to listen." Cillian's response was short but straight to the point.
"You don't stick around for very long... you always leave after... I've finished reading my writing..."
"Well... your work is the only one I come to listen to. The rest of the lots' poems just go in one ear and out the other," He said honestly. "You've got a charm about you; I've never heard anything like what you write. It's unique and intelligent, cleverly crafted written pieces... It captures my attention, unlike the rest, which all seem like people trying to mimic someone else... you write from your heart... or your head... I can't decide which, really." He notices your silence, Cillian steps a bit closer to you. "Perhaps I've said too much." He mumbles. The proximity of where he stands is close enough that you can feel his warmth, a stark contrast to how cold it was outside. "You've surely captivated me, Y/N." He said your name like it was a sacred prayer.
You felt like your heart was in your throat, looking at him dumbfounded and unsure what to say. "That's... very flattering, I don't know what to say... thank you, Cillian..." You scratch behind your ear, swaying nervously on your feet. Cars honked, and people passed by as you two stood outside the little cafe, which was now closed since the reading sessions had ended. Cillian looked around awkwardly before sucking in a deep breath and exhaling, his breath visible out in the open air due to how cold it was.
"Would you like to go out for dinner with me?" Cillian looked at you, eyes reflecting the city lights. The moment felt like something from a movie or something you'd write a poem about. It felt like something that wasn't quite possible within these depths of reality. "I understand... if not... you're a young beautiful woman... probably got someone waitin' at home for y-" "N-No, I'd love to!" You interrupted him, with your heart racing. "I'd love to go to dinner with you... I don't have anyone at home... waiting for me..."
"Well, aren't I lucky... when are you free?" He gave you a smile, the first you'd ever seen from him. It made his usually sombre face light up; he grinned, making you feel all giddy.
"I'm free any time on the weekends... and on Tuesdays, I have work off, so... I would love to... see you this weekend, maybe?"
"Wonderful, Saturday evening, you and me?"
You nodded. You exchanged numbers and went on your merry way, walking down the streets of New York City with a smile on your face that was purely gleeful. People would give you looks, but you didn't care. You were excited about something for once. You obsessed over it for the next day and a half.
October 21st marked your very first date with Cillian Murphy. At six, you waited patiently outside your apartment building in the cold air. With a red scarf wrapped around your neck your nose runny from the autumnal weather, you looked around like a lost puppy.
"Y/N," Cillian's warm voice startled you from behind you. You jumped but swiftly turned around to look at him, a bashful smile on both of your faces. "You look lovely." You felt your heart pound at the sight of him.
"Thank you. You also look lovely yourself." You replied. He leaned in and kissed your cheek before taking your hand in his and guiding you down the street. The feeling of his hand in yours made the cold weather seem like summer. Your body lit in flames at the idea he wanted you close to him. And the feeling of his lips on your cheek remained there the whole evening, burning its mark into your skin.
The night went on, and you found yourself in a charming Italian restaurant. It was nothing too fancy, but it was nice and romantic for a first date, definitely nicer than any other places other guys have taken you. It was just the two of you sitting towards the back, in a small booth, eating your plates of pasta. You talked, and you talked, and you talked. He spoke about how he was an actor; you could see his eyes light up at his passion for his work. He told you he was in New York for work and was filming a movie for something he couldn't legally disclose yet. Your chemistry was magnetic, and the conversation would weave in and out of different subjects. You talked about anything and everything, things like masculinity, The Beatles, the incident that happened on your 21st Birthday, batman, and everything else there was to discuss. You felt like you had known him forever. He said the same thing and referred to you two as twin flames. When you were about to leave, his phone began to ring.
"Fuckin' hell, what is it now?" He groaned. "Probably just a wrong number... or somethin'... hold on, love." He stepped outside, and you watched him on the phone. Cillian looked angry and frustrated, like he was arguing over the phone with someone. Your heart, which once rode the waves of love and joy, now sank beneath them into the deep dark depths of navy blue and dismay, watching him grow angrier and angrier and yell over the phone. He was seeing red.
When he waved for you to come out, you approached him cautiously. He huffed, puffed, and fidgeted his hands in his pockets, clearly restless. "Who was that? Are you okay?" "It was no one," He replied shortly and coldly. "I'm fine, let's go." You didn't say a word after that. The tension was thicker than the cold. You were afraid of saying anything to further upset him. So silence was the answer as he walked you home. You felt disappointed that this was how the night was ending. You wondered who it was and what they had said that had upset him so badly. The familiar apartment building you called home came closer and closer within sight, the disappointment weighing you down like water in your shoes. The disappointment tracing every inch of your freezing skin.
You stood in your elevator with him. He promised to walk you back to your unit at least, and he kept that promise. "Would you like to come in... Cillian?" You asked. You pulled out your house key and unlocked the door, looking at him hopefully.
"No, I'd better not." He remained cold and rigid with you. He couldn't even bring himself to give you a smile. You felt you'd never see him again; maybe he didn't like you the way you thought he did. Maybe he found you obnoxious and dumb. Perhaps the phone call was from another woman he realized was better than you. Maybe you simply needed to be better for him. "Goodnight, Y/N." He turned and walked away; you couldn't speak as tears welled in your eyes. Sorrow built up within you like some sort of horrible game of Jenga; one wrong move and you'd come crashing down and falling apart all over the place.
"Goodnight..." You whispered, but by then, he'd already stepped into the elevator, and the doors shut, taking him away from you. You cried yourself to sleep that night, both out of self-pity and disappointment.
When you awoke, it was to the sounds of soft raps on your front door. It was eight in the morning. Padding gently down the hallway, floorboards creaking, sleep still in your eyes, and your face puffy from the tears that leaked from your tear ducts the previous night, you opened the door, expecting it to be a neighbor asking you if they could borrow some sugar or something along those lines.
"Good morning," Cillian stood at your door, this time with a big apologetic smile, a complete change from last night's cold demeanour. He held a pink, yellow, and white bouquet and a small paper bag in his other hand. "I came here to apologize... for how I treated you last night." "Come in." You ushered him in.
He noted your knick-knacks, the photos on your walls, and your old, worn-out furniture. The way you decorated the place stood out to him, but the look on your face stood out to him the most. Sad, tired eyes, puffy and glazed over, you looked at him expectantly. "I'm so sorry." He whispered to you.
"What for?" You asked as you sat in your favorite olive green armchair. It was velvet and soft, and you'd spend most of your time writing, reading, or drinking your morning cup of coffee.
"For treating you like I didn't care," He sighed. He sat on the leather sofa beside you, gently placing the flowers on your glass coffee table and the paper bag smelling of freshly baked goods. "I don't want to discuss exactly who it was or what happened on that phone call... but I... I shouldn't have shut you out just because I was upset... that was... wrong of me, and I'm sorry." Your anger and sadness dissipated the way a fire dissipates when it's being smothered: immediately. His big blue eyes were the blanket that hushed that flame out, striking him as immediately forgiven.
"I understand, Cillian..." You mumbled, pulling your knees up to your chest. "Things happen... it's alright... I...." You wanted to confront him and tell him how insignificant and stupid he made you feel, but you swallowed it back and gave him a small smile. You remained the people pleaser you always have been. You spared his feelings over your own. "I understand." You repeated.
"I thought... I would make it up to you," He pushed the small paper bag over to you. "We could spend the day together... if you don't already have plans."
The paper bag contained a chocolate eclair. You had written a poem that mentioned eating a chocolate eclair while in a made-up love affair. The rhyming was cheesy, but it was one of Cillian's favorite poems of yours. It was the first one he had heard from you. Of course, you didn't realize the irony of it at the time. You just grinned and accepted it happily. You didn't know that you were engaging in a relationship with a man who was already married. So you took a bite of the eclair, letting him into your fragile heart, and entered this sad and tragic love affair.
So you spent the whole day together. You walked around New York City, holding hands and laughing your heads off. It felt romantic and intimate, and you got to know each other even deeper than you did before. You kissed under a stop sign and shared sweet nothings. The clouds rolled over, and the sky opened up. The rain watered you down like a pair of leaves in a pot plant, and you both ran through Central Park, trying to find the nearest shelter until you came across a large oak tree. It was something out of a movie, sitting together, soaking wet, staring at each other as lightning strikes in the distance. The wind was in your hair, and his lips were on yours.
You spent pretty much every day together after that. You made love in every room of your apartment, cherishing each other's bodies. Cillian would sit in that cafe, and he would clap after your readings and then reward you with a kiss when you got back down to him. You wrote poetry about him, and he would write some for you. It was a beautiful, quiet, little harmonious relationship you had going on. You found yourself falling in love. You thought he was, too, though you never said it out loud.
He even met your dad. They got along quite well. Your dad didn't seem to mind that Cillian was only a few years younger than him (and much older than you). Your dad just wanted to see you happy and safe. In fact, your dad told you he had never seen you more content. Cillian made your dad laugh, they got along like old friends. Seeing them bonding and getting along made you incredibly happy and excited.
On November 16th, at noon, you got ready to go to where he was staying, wrapping that red scarf around your neck again and stepping out into the living room where Cillian waited for you with eyes full of affection. You had packed a small bag since Cillian told you he was staying at his sister's house in upstate New York. She was away at the moment. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen." He hummed jollily. You wrapped your arm through his and went down to the lobby.
His car had that new car smell, clearly a rental. "No matter how often I've stayed in America, I never get used to driving on the wrong side of the road." Cillian chuckled, exiting his parking spot and beginning the long drive to his sister's house.
The drive was beautiful. Driving through the city and slowly entering into suburban areas, red and brown trees lining the streets, Halloween decorations on display, and music playing through the radio, you both sang along to the words happily. The drive was surreal and peaceful. You drove down a long country road, and the tall trees created a tunnel above you. Only small slits of the grey sky could be seen through the scarlet leaves.
"We're here, Y/N," Cillian smiled at you, stepping out of the car and walking off without you. You hurriedly got out of the car with your things. "Oh, lock the car for me, the button doesn't work... please, love." He tossed you the car keys, not looking where he was throwing them, and they landed in the dirt before you. You ignored how it made you feel (stupid, insignificant, small), picking up the dirty keys and locking the car manually before rushing over to where he was unlocking the door.
The house was nice and quiet and far from the rest of civilization. It felt like home somehow. It is decorated nicely with photos of his sister and her husband, even some with Cillian when he was younger. It was getting dark by now, and you set your belongings down in the guest bedroom where Cillian was staying. You never asked when he was going back to Ireland. You didn't wanna know. You wanted to appreciate your time together instead of counting down the days.
Cillian cooked you dinner and shared a long, loving kiss to say thanks. You sat cuddled up on the couch together afterwards, your crimson scarf hanging over the stair railing as you rested your head lovingly on his shoulder. An old Western movie played in the background, but you were too busy holding each other and whispering sweet things.
"Cillian..." You whispered, pressing soft kisses along his stubbly jaw. "I'm so happy you brought me here... this feels so special." "I'm so happy to have you here, Y/N." He whispered back. Cillian pulled you into his lap. "This is special, just you and me... here... I'm going to make you my own." You wanted to tell him, 'I'm already yours, Cillian; my heart and soul are yours', but you remained silent, smiling dopily at him.
And with those charming words, you kissed him. Flashes of red played through your mind, fireworks sounding off in your head as your lips danced together. His hands cradled your head as you made out nice and slow. Both in your pyjamas now, warming each other up, hands running up and down his back. Cillian's hands wandered down your back until they rested on the tops of your hips, his thumb fiddling with the waistband of your sweatpants.
"Take them off." You hummed, raising your hips slightly off of his, and he obeyed, sliding your pants off until you were only in your panties. Cillian observed how you sat back down on his lap, the lace scrunched up, showing off the curve of your ass.
"I'm going to ravish you." He growled, eyeing you up and down. The timbre of his voice caused your thighs to tightly squeeze together. He pressed you down onto the couch, slipping his pants down until he was just in his briefs. He slipped your shirt over your tits, breasts bouncing out of their containment and straight into his mouth. He sucked happily on your nipples until you were a panting mess, begging for more. "Let me feel you, sweetheart."
"Please..." You exasperated. "Please... Cillian."
Two nimble fingers slipped under your lace underwear, straight down to where your arousal pooled. "So wet f'me, always so wet, aren't you, baby?" He groaned, fingers teasing your slit before sliding back up to rub circles on your clit.
"You know what you do to me..." You breathed out, biting your cherry red lips and closing your eyes, embracing the pleasure. "Always so wet for you, Cillian..."
The way Cillian cradled you in his strong arms as his fingers caressed you to your peak was the most intimate thing you had ever experienced. His eyes watched your face contort with pleasure, mouth open and spilling sounds of satisfaction as you came on his fingers.
"That's it, baby... doing so good," He whispered, kissing your cheek. "So beautiful."
You lolled your head to the side, panting and looking at him with a dazed grin. "Please fuck me."
Cillian laughed at your words. "Such a dirty mouth!" He teased as he tugged down his pants. "Gonna fuck you nice and slow, gonna show you how much you mean to me, love."
Then, in the dim light of the TV and the moon shining through the window, you made love like it was your last night on Earth. Hands ran up and down each other's bodies, trying to savor every final touch. Lips captured together, your bodies working as one, the love was there, glimmering in the light. No words could explain how you felt then; nothing else existed to you, just him and his hands all over your body. You and him for the rest of eternity, at least; that's how it felt in your heart.
You held each other tight in bed, clinging on for dear life. You listened to his heart slow as he slept and the way he breathed. You wondered if he dreamt about you the way you dreamt of him. Eventually, you fell asleep at midnight after watching his pretty face sleeping.
At three in the morning, you wake to an empty bed. Sitting up with a sweat, where did Cillian go? You slip out from under the covers, wincing at the room's cold air that meets your bare legs. You wore one of Cillian's button-ups, only the middle button holding it together as you slowly creep out of the room, listening to the sound of quiet music from the kitchen.
"Cillian?" You called out, cautious and slightly afraid at how dark the house is. It was a lot quieter than you were used to. You were a city girl, unfamiliar with the countryside silence.
"Y/N?" You heard, which relieved your paranoid mind.
Down the stairs, Cillian stood in the fridge's light, soft music playing through a small radio on the kitchen counter. "What're you doing up, Cillian?" You worriedly walked over to him, arms reached out as he turned to look at you, only in his sleep shorts.
"Just needed a midnight snack. I'm alright, my love," He smiled sleepily, with a sheepish look since he wasn't fully awake yet. "C'mere... dance with me."
"Oh... Cillian..." You giggled, walking over to him, letting him wrap you up in his strong arms and sway you gently. "This is nice."
"Mmmm..." Cillian hummed into the soft skin of your neck.
The refrigerator remained open, the cool-tinted light painting you both as you swayed side to side. You were half asleep, and the rocking motion didn't help your drowsiness. You felt as though this was some strange dream.
"Are you real?" You whispered.
"What do you mean?" Cillian purred back.
"I just feel like I made you up." You muttered, pulling your head back to look up at him with big, sleepy eyes.
Cillian looked back at you with the same look. Your wide-eyed gaze and his sweet blue eyes looked like something out of a romance film or something you'd see in a painting. The love you shared was unanimous... or at least you thought so. A kiss and then another kiss and then another turned into a sleepy yet heated make-out.
"Gonna take you right here," He grumbled into your mouth. "My midnight snack."
You giggled at his words as he pressed you against the kitchen island countertop. Kissing so hard it felt like your lips could bruise. He ripped off your shirt and pulled it off you like it was nothing. Cillian growled at the sight of you, hands groping at your tits and lips trailing down your neck. You whimpered, letting your head hang back as he ground his stiff cock into your clothed cunt.
"Fuck!" You whined, wrapping your legs around his hips even further. You ignored the feeling of the marble countertop digging into your lower back; the feeling of his cock was too delicious, too distracting, to really let it ruin the mood. "Cillian, please, baby, just put it in me... need you so bad."
He gave you a grunt and slipped off his shorts before pulling your panties to the side. Cillian acted like a feral dog as he pushed his cock into you and began fucking you on his sister's countertops at three in the morning. The act was sinful.
"Oh god! Yes!" You wailed. You could be as loud as you wanted to out here. No one else was around to hear, and you knew how Cillian liked to hear you scream for him. His hips pistoned in and out of you, cock fitting perfectly inside you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. He had never been so rough with you before, but you were enjoying it.
"Best pussy I've ever had," Cillian groaned, sweat dripping from his forehead. "Fuck... so good... feels so good."
His fingernails dug into your hips, grunting into the dips of your neck and shoulders as he chased his own high. You ran your hands up and down his back, leaving scratch marks across his shoulder blades. The fridge remained open, but right now, you didn't care. All you could think about was how good he was fucking you. Drool spilled down your chin, mind blank, and legs went limp from the euphoria taking over.
"Yeah, is that it?" Cillian muttered, voice gritty and low as his hips sputtered. "You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?"
"Yes... oh fuck! Yes!" You moaned. "Gonna cum for you, Cillian..."
"Love the way my name sounds comin' from your mouth," He whispered, letting out a mouth-watering whine straight into your ear. Your pussy clenched around him tighter as Cillian, usually a quiet and stoic man, came undone and let out the most delectable pornographic-sounding moans. "Y'make it sound so dirty..."
"Please cum in me..." You whimpered. "Please... need it so bad."
"Really?" Cillian panted and looked at you incredulously. He had never had the pleasure of getting to cum in you yet. "You sure?"
"Yes!" You threw your head back, panting like a dog. "Please, Cillian! Please... give it to me." "Fuck... alright... gonna fill you up, love."
You pressed your face into the curve of his neck, mewling as you came around him and the feeling of his hot cum beginning to spill into you. "I love you." You gasped out, squeezing your eyes shut as you came around him. You meant it; you did love him. You had never loved anyone the way you had loved him. You could see yourself with him for the rest of your life, having his babies, getting married..., and dying together. He just groaned loudly as he came inside you, not saying a word to your confession. Maybe it wasn't the right time, or he would wait until he was done to say something.
"Fuckin' hell..." Cillian whispered as he slipped his softening length out of you and pulled his shorts back up. "Look at that..." He mumbled with amazement, getting down on his knees in front of your quivering and cum-filled pussy.
"Cillian, I-"
"Shhh..." He hushed before pressing a loving nip to your inner thigh, and then he unhinged his jaw and attached his watering mouth to your cunt. You forgot everything you were about to say at the feeling of his tongue licking you up and sucking on your swollen clit. You came again quickly due to how sensitive you were, and Cillian sucked up your gushing juices and his cum that still dripped out of you. Standing up, he grabbed you by the chin and kissed you, spitting the mixture into your mouth, tongues swirling together. You moaned at the salty taste and the dirty act. "Such a good girl..." Cillian hummed. "Swallow it, baby. Show me how good you can be for me."
He watched you gulp it down before leaning in and rewarding you with a wet and messy kiss, teeth grabbing your bottom lip before pulling away. "Cillian..." You whispered, out of breath and incredibly flustered. "That... was so good... I love-" "Let's go to sleep," He interrupted abruptly, crouching and picking up your discarded clothing. "It's real late, sweetheart."
"Oh..." You mumbled, heart breaking a little. "Okay... let's go then." You didn't get a peep of sleep that night. While Cillian snored beside you, one heavy arm draped across you and his hot breath fanning the back of your neck, you stared at the ticking clock with tears slipping down your face. Why didn't he say it back? Why didn't he at least say something? You knew he heard you. The dread built up within you that night, and daylight didn't seem to get any closer.
At 7:47 AM, you were pulled out of a state between consciousness and sleep by Cillian's phone ringing. "Fuck..." Cillian said groggily, reaching over with a heavy hand to pick up his phone. "Who is it?" You moaned out of dissatisfaction from being pulled out of your slumber.
"It's my sister..." He groaned before answering the call. "Hello?.... Yeah, it's alright... no, I don't have anything on today... you're comin' home today?... I thought you'd be home Monday..." You sat up at this, heart racing. Were you going to have to meet his sister today? You were nervous but also excited. Cillian looked over at you with a horrified look in his eye. "Yeah... alright... see you then... bye."
"...Is everything okay?" You asked cautiously.
"Yeah, I guess we're not sleepin' in..." He grunted as he got up and walked towards the en suite. "Gather yer' things, we're going back to the city." "What? Why?"
"I just don't want my sister to know I had a girl over." That was the last thing he said before shutting the bathroom door, clearly in a bad mood. Your heart sank at his words as if it wasn't already hurting. So you got up, fighting back the tears and gathered your things, shoving them back into your bag as you let out a choked sob.
Half an hour passed, Cillian was still in the shower, and you sat at the bottom of the stairs, feeling sorry for yourself. Your bag sat beside you, and the floorboards creaking behind you caught your attention. You turned and looked up at Cillian, dressed in a lovely blue turtle neck, dress pants, and a grim look on his face.
Begrudgingly, you followed him outside and into the car, then began the drive back in silence.
"You wanna grab some lunch wit' me today?" Cillian asked after about twenty minutes of silence.
"No." You said dryly.
"What? You got plans or somethin'?" Cillian asked with a chuckle. The question felt condescending and rude.
"Because what you said to me earlier really fucking hurt me." You hissed, turning to look at Cillian to see him already looking at you.
"What the fuck are you on about?" He barked back, putting his eyes back on the road and giving you that dry, condescending laugh again.
"You said you didn't want your sister to know about me.... that you didn't want your sister to know about you having a girl over."
"Yeah, and?" Cillian quipped, clearly flustered.
"Is that all I am to you?" You whimpered, trying to keep your composure, trying to seem strong. "Just a girl?" "'Course not, Y/N." He said in a hushed tone.
"Then what the fuck are we?" You raised your voice, a tear slipping down your cheek. "Why can't your sister know about me? About us?"
"B-Because..." He faltered before falling completely silent.
"Why, Cillian?" You cried. "You've met my friends... you've even met my father... for fuck's sake... why can't... why can't I meet your sister and her husband?"
He kept his silence. You could see the tears in his eyes that refused to spill. Those tears were just as stubborn as he was.
"Answer me!" You screamed, tears pouring down your exasperated face. "Say something!"
"Because I'm married!" He screeched back.
That shut you up. You leaned back and just stared at your feet. You felt like you had been winded, like all the air in the car had been sucked out, and you were choking on carbon monoxide. He was married. You sobbed as the shock set in, and Cillian pulled the car over to the side of the road, unbuckling his seatbelt. You fell into a state of despair; your chest felt incredibly heavy, and your brain played a loop of hopeless thoughts.
"Y/N," Cillian said firmly, reaching out and placing a soft hand on your shoulder, which you quickly smacked away. "Y/N... look at me..."
You looked over at him, and you could see him wince at the look on your face. He'd never seen you in so much pain. Never had he seen you look at him so coldly. "What?" You spat. "What is it, Cillian?"
"I... I'm sorry."
"Fuck you," You cried harder, covering your face with your hands and leaning on the dashboard. You cried so hard it felt like you could vomit. You felt like the salty tears were slowly dissolving you away. "Fuck you!" You sobbed.
"Y/N... I am sorry."
"If you were sorry..." You hiccuped, looking back at him with red eyes and tears endlessly slipping down your flustered face. "You never would have... you never would have done this to me... you never would have gotten involved with me!"
Cillian sighed and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I... I stumbled into that cafe one night, and I saw you and... I heard the way you spoke... and the words you said... and I couldn't believe you were real... and things haven't been amazing in my marriage lately... and I haven't seen my wife in months..." He was rationalizing with you... with the infidelity. "I... I've never met anyone like you."
"You lied to me."
"How was I supposed to tell you I was married, Y/N?" Cillian snapped at you, looking at you with fangs barred. "What was I supposed to say to you?"
"You didn't have to say anything," You sobbed. "You shouldn't have invited me to dinner... you shouldn't have even... you shouldn't have ever shown up to those reading sessions... you just shouldn't have gotten involved with me in the first place!"
"My wife doesn't have to know."
"That... doesn't make it any better," You bawled. "You have a woman... back in Ireland fucking waiting for you, and I'm here... thinking I'm falling in love with you while you fuck me over!"
"I'm sorry..." He whispered, defeated. "I'm so sorry."
Silence.
"Do you feel anything for me?" "Of course, I feel something for you, Y/N... you're-"
"Do you love me?" You corrected. "Could you say you truly and honestly love me?" "I..." He looked away at that. You scoffed and shook your head, wiping tears off your face. "I don't... I don't know... I just..." "What the fuck was going to happen between us?" You cried. "How was this going to end? This was always going to end tragically... wasn't it? Wasn't it, Cillian?"
"I didn't... I never thought about how I was going to end things... I go back home in December... filming ends in two weeks... I was going to spend the last few weeks with you..." You scoffed again loudly. "Aww... how sweet! Spend your last few days with your mistress, who's twenty years younger than you... and then fuck off back to Ireland and go be with your loving wife and your... oh god... you have kids, don't you?" "Yes... I..." "Fuck!" You screamed. It wasn't like you to be so angry. You weren't usually this loud. But the pain was just too much, and you needed some way to get the pent-up rage within you out. "So this is it... this is going to be the last time I'll ever see you."
"It doesn't have to be that way, love," Cillian whispered, placing a hand on your arm; this time, you let it stay there. The shame of having him touch you made you sob again. "We could... spend this last month together... we could... cherish what we have while we still have it." "What we have is gone," You replied. "It's gone! It's dead! You killed it! You can't even say you love me."
"What good would that do?" He pushed you further over the edge. "I mean... I could lie and say I love you... I could feed into your fantasies that this... this could last... but it's not..."
Those words 'I could lie and say I love you' echoed over and over again in your head.
"I know that!" You yelped.
There was a pause. The silence hanging heavy in the autumn air and your teardrops falling into your lap where your hands lay curled up. Cillian's thumb rubbed circles into your arm, and you only cried harder.
"Maybe... if we had been closer in age... maybe we would have... maybe we would have been fine." Cillian broke the silence with that banger. The words ringing in your ears, you didn't reply. You didn't utter a word. Those words made you want to die. A minute or two went past. You just ignored him, ignored the way his hand lit your skin on fire, and ignored the way his eyes bore holes into the side of your skull. "Y/N?"
"Take me home." You muttered.
"Y/N..." He whispered.
"Take me the fuck home, Cillian."
And so he did. He pulled out of the parking spot, and you spent the next hour in an agonizing silence. At some point, the tears stopped falling, and the stupidity sunk in. You felt stupid and ashamed. You had told everyone about him, how happy you were, how handsome and funny... and how sweet he was. And now you sat in the car of a man you felt like you didn't know.
"We're here, Y/N."
"Goodbye, Cillian."
"Please don't do this." He begged, you looked at him, and he had tears in his eyes. "Please." You sucked in a breath, his eyes pleaded with you, and you wanted to stay so badly... you wanted to give him one last kiss and say, 'I understand,' but you knew you couldn't. You were too heartbroken. It was going to end one way or another... and it might as well end now.
"Goodbye, Cillian." You said once more before stepping out of the car and walking off into your building. Never looking back to see the broken man in the car, crying just as hard as you did, loving you just as hard as you did him.
Three months went by. There wasn't a day where you didn't think of him. Not a day passed when you yearned for his touch and to feel him hold you again. You thought about dancing with him in the refrigerator light. You thought about his hand on your thigh as you drove upstate. The memories all too real and... all too there.
And tonight, as snow fell outside, you stood at that same podium, reading the poem you wrote for him. You could barely utter the words, your heart catching in your throat as you looked around the room and spoke the words written on the page.
"Just between us, I remember it all too well." You finished, and the room clapped, but the applause didn't matter. Your heart still felt just as broken as it did the day you left him.
And as you descended from the podium, people would pat you on the back and murmur praises for how well-written your poem was and how well-spoken you were. But your eyes were focused on the hazy figure outside the cafe, the silhouette all too familiar.
And it was wearing that same red scarf you had left behind.
And you knew it was him, watching you from afar. Loving you from a distance... remembering it the same way as you did...
All too well.
-
hope you enjoyed!! Sorry this was all over the place a bit but I really wanted to write something angsty... anyway... there are lots of little easter eggs and references to the song, did you pick them all up? Okay byeee!
383 notes · View notes
dr-aculaaa · 3 months
Text
Lately Drac’s been thinking about….
Tumblr media
Being the last house on Baron’s letter carrier route. Sometimes he tries to get deliveries done a little earlier than noon so he has more time to linger near your picket fence.
Parking his bike near that big tree in your backyard, quickly fixing his wind-blown hair to make it neat and tucked back behind his ears as he approaches you crouched over your rose bushes.
The way your face lights up to see him, even if it’s just to see that small box tucked under his elbow of new watercolor paints you ordered or that letter addressed to you from a publishing company both of you crossed fingers for, hoping they’ll accept some of your poetry.
That sudden fade in your flickering eyes despite that smile you keep on your face in front of him. That small tiny bite on the inside of your lip that chokes down rejection- followed with a big exhale and a oh well demeanor he sees more than often.
There’s always next time!
A voice as sweet as the smell of those salmon-pink Boscobels between the two of you with a wonderful scent like myrrh, pears, elderberries and almonds- all from your care, you speak again,
“How were your deliveries this mornin’ Baron?”
He shrugs, a voice soft, always soft spoken, chest tightening from the way you twirl a pruned rose between fingers while not breaking eye contact as he licks lightly chapped lips,
“Nothin’ too ‘memorable… but… I did see on the marquee that they’re playing Wutherin’ Heights later this afternoon.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah… N’I saws you readin’ that book once, so I just figured it’d be somethin’ you’d be interested in knowin’. ”
Clutching the soon to be discarded letter in your hold, the thought of him watching from afar as you sat in your garden with one of your favorite Brontë sisters brings a fluttering to your very center like wisp butterflies on meadow buttercup wildflowers.
“Which one are they playin’ ?”
“Huh?”
“Which version of the movie are they playin’ for the matinee? The one with Timothy Dalton or the one with Laurence Oliver?”
“Oh…” his lips stay in an opening, showing off the bottoms of his two big and cute front teeth. It closes as lips press tightly and he bashfully smiles with a shake of his head, “I’m not too sure… but I was thinkin’ about-”
He pauses, a small chuckle as it starts to heat up under his button up uniform shirt and postal service blue blazer at his neck.
There’s a gentle summer breeze that carries a small lock of his sun-bleached honeyed-caramel waves over his strong and pointed freckled nose that’s taking every bit of your strength to not reach over and tuck it back behind those big ears that were now as pink as your roses.
“I was thinkin’ about… askin’ if I could take you to see it. I ain’t never read the book like you, so, I don’t know what it’s really about.”
Baron watches as you tuck your nose into that large bloom, a hum of contemplation on the spontaneous event that interrupted your plans of doing nothing but staring at an empty canvas or an empty page waiting for your wordsmith attention.
“You wanna take me to the movies?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he nods with a sincerity full of hope after waiting for an opportunity like this to come along for weeks, “-very much so.”
You smile at this boy, nay, young man, from the way you catch those few curls of dark hair peeking from his undershirt collar, the lines near his eyes as he squints to see you in this high-noon light.
This is your Baron, the young man that inspired you to pour out those couplets of humid summertime yearning after these few minutes of interaction on the daily stained your every thought like golden tumeric until you laid yourself to rest in a big empty bed.
You bet your Baron runs real warm, seeing him wear those silly mid-thigh length shorts even in late fall on his deliveries. The sweat on his brow evident of pedaling around town with a purpose, his wide palms smelling of the rubber gripped on his handlebars.
“Sure, Honey,” you smile at the man who was melting on the inside like a RocketPop from the way that sweet name breezed into his brain on this warm afternoon. “Sounds like a treat.”
A treat, he smiles, hopping back onto his bike, half a dozen roses in his basket you told him to put in some fresh water with a little bit of 7-Up so the blossoms lasted longer for his mother when he headed home to shower and change.
Honey, Baron catches himself helplessly and stupidly grinning at the thought of being your Honey.
Sweetness is everything he gave to you, sweetness is all he thought you deserved.
To hold those thorn prickled fingers of yours, woven between his; to kiss the tips that bury themselves in the earth and pinch the ink that flows poetry in motion.
He daydreams of listening to you call him Honey once more, imagining his head on your lap with his back to gingham under the clouds, soaking up sun and the recited words from your sonnets. Haikus. Prose poems. Anything, as your hand runs through his hair,
‘Did you fall asleep, Honey?’
‘Mm- just restin’ my eyes, Darlin’ ”
Oh my darling, oh my darling, you pop another clementine in your Huckleberry’s mouth before ruby lips come down to paint the apples of his cheeks like the canvases in your sun room.
So he neatly combs his hair, washes behinds his ears, and uses that old spice cologne that will tickle your nose as you greet him in that babydoll dress, Miss Mary Mack, dressed in black with silver buttons all down your back.
A pachyderm on his chest, his hand itches to rest upon the fabric’s juxtapose along your spine and guide you to your seats.
In the dark, shoulder to shoulder, seated upon plush velvet and sticky floors he’s trying to ignore, as the fatal and selfish side of love is projected onto the white screen. Baron gulps down nothing, despite the large Icee between your seats with two straws.
It’s the way he can smell your perfume, the way your bare knee rests upon his over-worn denim. The way your hand reaches over to his lap for popcorn and you softly whisper into his ear as you tell him to keep in mind certain things for the plot.
Baron would have to watch the movie again, overcome by the way you tucked an arm under his bicep to wrap around his elbow and lay your head on his for the rest of the movie.
Luckily, for him, you owned it on VHS.
Lucky for you, Baron still had a VCR.
‘It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.’
223 notes · View notes
2soulscollide · 1 year
Text
10 underrated tips to become a better writer
hello hello, it's me again!
today i want to share some tips to improve your writing!
1. write in a different style
sometimes it's important to step out of our comfort zone, especially when it comes to writing. the next time you sit down to write for a bit, try to do something different from usual... try poetry if you always write prose; try fantasy if your thing is mystery; try adventure if you only write romance. it's up to you, just do it! who knows if you discover a new passion while trying this exercise...
2. write from a different point of view
i know it can be tempting to always write from a certain point of view, or to always use the same narrator voice, but (like on the first topic) sometimes change is needed to improve. you'll see things from another perspective, and maybe you can have a brilliant idea!
3. write with music
this one is one of my favorites! i love music, my spotify is full of playlists, one for each mood. try to create different playlists for your stories, and pick songs that motivate you, or that make you feel like you're one of the characters of your novel. this will not only give you a boost to write but also make you feel inspired.
4. set a timer
i always do this! it's a life changer. i started doing the pomodoro method to study and realized how effective it is. it's the same when it comes to writing: set about thirty minutes to write (it's up to you, depending on for how long you can be productive) and ten to fifteen minutes to relax. you'll see how much more work you can do with this method!
5. use prompts
you know how much i love prompts! i think they're so useful and help us so much to become more creative. they are a great way to step out of our comfort zone and develop someone else's idea in a span of a few minutes or hours.
oh, and if you're feeling adventurous, try this month's writing challenge!
6. write in a different place
guys! change your writing environment sometimes, especially when you're feeling overwhelmed or drained. i know it can be tempting to always sit on your sofa / bed / favorite chair, but sometimes we get so accustomed to the same place, that our creativity slows down, as well as our motivation. try to go outside to a park or a café, it can be so fun and you'll feel like the main character. or maybe, if you don't want to be in public, try another room in your house! just make sure you feel comfortable and don't have distractions around you.
7. change your writing support
do you always write on your computer? try to disconnect for a while, grab a pen and a paper, and let your imagination flow. it can be so freeing to write by hand sometimes, especially when you're plotting a novel! how cool it is to draw a scheme to connect all the characters and locations, and to doodle...!
8. find a writing buddy
personally, i don't have one, but i know it can be such a fun way to keep you motivated and to keep yourself (and the other person) accountable. it's great to have someone to share your ideas with, to give and receive feedback, and to lift you up to write when you don't like doing so.
9. write yourself a letter
trust me, it's amazing. it can be to your present self, past, or future, it's up to you. tell yourself what your writing goals are, what you are writing, how you see yourself in the future, what you're satisfied with your writing style, etc. just let it flow and re-read it whenever you feel unmotivated.
10. write with a sense of humor
i know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but it can be so fun sometimes. try something less serious when you don't feel like writing. try to come up with a joke mid-dialogue, write a fun scene or re-write a serious scene in a less serious way. this exercise can be great to see things from another perspective, to try a different style, or to lift up your mood.
i hope this was useful! have a nice day!
1K notes · View notes
daichiduskdrop · 9 months
Text
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚
Tumblr media
CHAPTER 01
Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader
Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,
Warnings: pretty much none for this chapter! Just a nice fluffy, protective and sweet chapter :)
A/N: hi everyone! Thank you all so much for your support I received for the prologue chapter I uploaded yesterday. I am really happy and grateful. If you enjoy the story, please let me know. I'm always looking for advice. English isn't my first language so please be patient :))
Also, I saw other people use taglists for accounts, I'm not 100% how it works, but if anyone would be interested I will try to figure it out.
Please take care of yourself. I love you.
Words count: 3385
Prologue:
⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *
"Hyung? Hello?"
"Hm? What's up? Are you guys on your way? Jin is starting to stress out 'bout it."
His voice sounded calm, not worried one bit. It was obvious he was most definitely sitting by the fireplace, reading some poetry book. Kook got him one not too long ago as a thank-you gift, and before leaving with Yoongi, Jimin did notice it laying on the couch.
The youngest loved and respected his pack alpha, so showing gratitude in any way was very close to his heart. A simple plant for a nice camping-trip-hike Joon planned for them wasn't too unusual, a new pair of limited edition sneakers was granted, or a nice book of poetry, bought at the seasonal book fairs he sneakily visited, so the alpha would be surprised.
Of course, Jungkook often spoiled all of his other pack members, but among the pack, it was quite usual to buy Namjoon occasional small gifts. After all, he was keeping them well-kept, safe, warm, and fed.
Sure, they all may be alphas, suited to take care of themselves, and they did, but sometimes handing off the lead and worries to him was just too tempting. They needed to rent a house for a weekend stay in a different country? Joon would by no means even allow them to try and do it. The pack wants to buy ice-cream? Yes, he will go on and order it for the group, making sure to not forget any of the complicated toppings and flavor combinations.
Namjoon still had occasional mishaps, accidentally breaking new tableware, another controller, or losing his keys over and over, but his pack never took it too wrongly and knew of all the good he brought to them. It always outweighed the clumsiness.
"Yea hyung, we are on our way to the car right now, but-"
It didn't take him too long to notice that Jimin's voice was softer than usual, and even without being able to smell his scent, he was able to sense a sort of worrying undertone.
While he could start firing out questions right away, it wasn't his first day dealing with any issues involving his younger packmates. Everything could be sorted calmly in pretty much every situation, and he was a big believer of that fact. Though when he heard a whimper in the background of the call, he too grew worried. He sat up, putting the small book away. Unconsciously, he paid attention to everyone in the house at the moment; Jin's smell was in the kitchen, the occasional sizzling of oil and pots heard, Taehyung's scent upstairs, a bit too far for him to be able to sense what exactly he was doing, noting of Hobi's bright smell in his studio downstairs, and Jungkook's, also on the bottom-floor gym.
"Jimin-ah? What is it?" He didn't sound too overly concerned, even if he was quite worried. He didn't hear Chim sound so stressed in some time for sure. It was quite usual for the pack alpha's to try to bring peace to the pack, always have a rational mind and calm any agitation and anxiety.
Listening closely, only a bit of shuffling and fumbling noises could be heard.
"Um..- we met an omega..-"
A longer pause continued, and a faint voice of Yoongi in the background. He didn't hear him speaking so softly in a very long time, making Joon's eyebrows furrow only deeper.
"An omega? Are they okay?"
"No, hyung, something is really wrong..- her scent, she is really, really anxious for some reason-"
"Did you try to settle her? She could have entered omega space; you have to be really careful with that. Where are you right now? I'll come there to help."
"Yoongi hyung said it's the best for us to just take her home to us right now; we just got into the car and are leaving the parking lot now." Jimin said with the faint sound of the motor in the background.
"Alright, that's okay. I'll tell others. It's better for her to be somewhere with only a few specific scents than the mix of ones that belong to the group of strangers. Is she crying?" His question was followed by a soft sound of fabric moving. A shorter pause and then a yes.
Sighing, Namjoon stood up and started to make his way towards the kitchen. Jin looked up but didn't say anything after seeing him calling, and continued cutting up a few onions. Opening one of the top cabinets, he took out an essential oil often used for newly presented alphas for when their nose suddenly got bit too sensitive with the heightened smell. It wasn't uncommon for betas or omegas to use such oils or scented candles either, though.
"Poor cub. Just make sure you drive safe, okay? I'll try to get some things ready for her to nest with; that should help. Hyung is still cooking, but it should be done soon, did you buy the batteries for Tae and Koo?"
"Yea, we did, don't worry. We got some more stuff from that new game store for them too, but you'll see at home. Thank you, we will be there in about.. 10 minutes? I think?"
"Alright. Be careful, talk to you later."
Ending the call and folding his phone into his jeans pocket, the pack alpha looked towards his eldest hyung, who was already staring at him with questions written all over his face.
"What is it? I can smell you are worried, Joon."
For a few moments, he didn't answer, still bit too confused about everything. They didn't have an omega at their pack house basically ever.
"At the mall, they found an omega; she must have been really unsettled, so they tried to help. They are taking her here now."
Once again, talking without any noticeable worry in his voice. It was only his scent that carried a slight stench that was offsetting.
"An omega? Where is their pack? We have to notify her pack alpha; this could be serious."
"Yea, I think so too. Can you give her a meal too? We should have enough for one more person, right?"
Jin turned back around to stir the sizzling pan of glass noodles, softly humming.
"Of course, we have more than enough. You should go tell others. I'll go open windows so there is fresh air here, and it's not too scented for her right away."
"Thanks, hyung. I just hope she won't drop, so let's try to prevent that in any way possible."
Agreeing, he left Jin to his thing and started making his way towards the private studios.
Knocking softly on the doors in a short pattern, he didn't wait too long before he opened the entryway. There sat Hoseok, turned towards him. There was an open file on the screen that he was working on for the past few days.
"Hey, what's up?"
Closing the door after him, the pack alpha took a seat on the large black leather couch.
"I just got a call from Jimin; they are on their way back home. They have an omega with them though, they are taking her to the pack house."
Hobi's eyes widened, his mouth opening slightly.
"Really? Why?"
Sitting up slightly, he kept his eyes on Namjoon.
"Minnie said something was really wrong; she was just too unsettled, and they couldn't find her pack I guess either."
"Oh poor thing, they get really stressed in public places; she must have gotten overwhelmed," softly cooing at the thought of a soft, sad, anxious omega. Hobi always had a soft spot for those in need. And from the description, the little omega must be in need for sure.
"Yea, I think so too. Do you have any new blankets and pillows? Or just anything that's unscented still? We have to prepare at least some nesting materials."
"Probably don't have a blanket per se, but I have bought a new hoodie online, so it should be sealed in plastic and unscented. That could help right?"
"For sure, that would be great," smiling, Hobi stood up and took a still unopened carton box. Ripping off the tape and pulling out a white milky plastic package, a paper written note fell onto the ground. Gasping softly, he bent down in the chair. Handing him the package, he looked at the note, smiling softly. "Ah, look, they wrote me a nice note!" his bright heart-shaped smile brightened up Joon's slightly anxious mood immediately.
Chuckling, the man stood up. "They should! You always order so much!" he said as he opened the door to the hallway. "Thanks hyung, they should be here in a few minutes, okay?"
Now turned back towards the screen, he heard a light "Yup!" making him leave the room, closing the door softly. Now on his way towards the gym, the young pack alpha wasn't too worried about the youngest - or any of his pack members in general.
It was a shock for sure, but they were a healthy pack with strong bonds and relationships, and if Yoongi believed it was best to take the omega to their home, then it definitely was that way. They didn't meet a lot of omegas at their company, since they were only allowed to do very few jobs. Omegas required a good, peaceful company of a similar group that was kept constant, and with how many people mingled during the tours and such, it was hard to keep that up.
Sudden omegadrops were then a bit too usual, causing more worries and stress. Really, there were only a minimal amount of omegas in BigHit; it wasn't common for omegas to work in general either. Some packs that were more modern did support the idea, but the traditional ones were used to pretty much taking care of all of their financial needs.
The door of the gym was left slightly open, so Joon knocked to make himself known and entered. Jungkook was leaning against a wall, breathing heavily with a glass of water in hand. His big eyes widened, and he stood up fully, taking a big gulp.
"Hey hyung," breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath, he ran a hand through his long, messy hair.
"Hey Jungkook, Yoongi called me a few minutes ago; they are on their way home right now, but there will be an unsettled omega coming with them too, okay? Something must have gone wrong for her; I think she might drop on them, so they decided taking her to us will be the best right now."
The youngest didn't say much for a few seconds. Placing his glass on the ground, he came closer to his pack alpha, his scent subconsciously wafting out calming pheromones. It was natural for any alpha or beta to try and calm anyone that was just a bit weak and scared. It just happened naturally.
"Omega? They will want to nest then; we should get some stuff ready quickly.."
"Yea, do you have any unscented stuff lying around?" furrowing his eyebrows in thought, Kook closed his eyes thinking. Wiping off sweat from his face with the bottom of his T-shirt, he nodded.
"Yea, I bought new bed sheets; I think they arrived this morning... And I should also have a pillow that isn't scented by any of you, just me if that works?"
"Thanks Koo, that helps a lot. Can you go get it and take it to the guest room upstairs?" Nodding quickly, they both left the gym, Namjoon quickly squeezing his shoulder in approval.
Walking upstairs, the young pack alpha made his way towards the room that Taehyung was in at the moment. Knocking and opening, his packmate was laying on the bed, softly snoring, covered by a few blankets. Coming to his side, he shook his shoulder, waking him up.
"Yah, Taehyung-ah, wake up; it will be dinner soon," the younger slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times. Sighting out, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and hair out of the way.
"..Huh?" was the only thing the tired man could get out, mumbling incoherent words towards the pack alpha. Knowing he won't get far like this, he sent him to the bathroom to freshen up. He will tell him once he is able to take in information.
Closing the door and making his way back downstairs, he looked at the clock, only to see that it was about 15 minutes since the call. Noticing Jin getting the table ready with Hobi, he placed the packaged jumper on the couch, leaving it there. Taking a seat next to it, he decided to wait for the rest of his pack, listening to any noises from outside.
It didn't take too long until he heard the garage door opening and a car in the entryway. The soft sound of the motor turned off soon, and with that, Joon stood up and walked towards the entry door. He could sense Hoseok and Jin watching him do so.
The cold air hit him; it was still snowing outside, and the strong storm didn't seem to be ending anytime soon. While the nice, snowy Christmas was, in his opinion, superior to the wet, muddy one, it could be dangerous when driving. Knowing so, he watched Yoongi walking towards the entrance, his coat already covered in snow after only a few seconds of being outside. One of his hands was behind his back, seemingly clutching the palm of the omega.
Oh, but the small omega.
His breath hitched in his throat when he could smell her - the sweet, peach-like scent mixed with rose blooms was really nice, but it was covered by the stench of a rotting fruit. She was afraid, anxious, and worried, and the alpha inside of him felt the overwhelming need to keep her safe and secure.
Her hair and scarf covered most of her face, her eyes downcast as she clutched Yoongi's right hand, softly pattering behind him through the shoveled pathway. Jimin closed the garage doors and followed soon after.
Yoongi made short eye contact with Namjoon, only to pull the girl closer to the doors. Stepping out of the way, the alpha addressed her scent, sniffing the top of her head slightly - a traditional way to show she was welcome and allowed to come inside of their packhouse. Her big eyes were still filled with tears, playing with his feelings.
„Hello, what's your name?” Bending to see her face better they stood close to the doors while Jimin and Yoongi started to remove their boots and coats, placing away the plastic bags. Lifting up her chin to place it over the nice thick scarf she wore, she opened her soft lips to speak.
„L/N F-F/N..” the omega mumbled softly, sniffling at the end. The pack alpha was tempted to coo loudly, but held back for now.
„Alright, my name is Kim Namjoon, I'm the pack alpha... What happened hm?” She looked away, with her hands in the pocket, unconsciously bearing her neck just the slightest. When he didn't get an answer, he lifted his hand and softly caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.
„It's okay, don't worry. We will help, yea? Come on, let's get your coat off and eat some dinner, okay?” only receiving a soft mumbled yea, the small omega shakily started to untie her gray scarf, the pack alpha helping her when she started to fumble with it. Softly petting her hair when he noticed the way her chin shook and how her nose was soft pink, her cheeks and eyes red and slightly swollen.
„There, there. It's okay now.“ he couldn't hold back the soft coo at the end of the sentence, watching closely when she unzipped her jacket, taking it from her and hanging it up on a free hanger. Helping her step out of the untied boots, he placed them close to the heater so they would dry up.
Yoongi poked his head through the door to the living room, looking at the omega for a second. Left in a pair of loose fit pants and a oversized pink hoodie with white socks, standing close to Namjoon seemingly worried just as she was back in the mall.
„Let's go eat now. Is japchae okay kitty? Jin made you a plate already come on.” he watched as her eyes grew wider for a second, big and bright, still glossy with few tears. „It-It's okay al-pha..” she softly mumbled, slowly walking towards his outstretched hand. Once she was close enough, he took her own and softly squeezed before pulling her after him.
Namjoon went after them, noticing the footprints left by her. While he thought it was quite cute with how she pattered after his packmate like a little pup, the thought of her feet being wet and cold pushed his instincts once again.
Leading her through the big living room, and towards the right where a big table was, with already most of the pack members close by, preparing for the meal and helping around. Just as she entered the living room, all 4 heads shot up at her scent.
Jin was the first one to move, placing the glass carafe down on the table and wiping his hands quickly, before he made his way to their direction. While Yoongi was still softly pulling her along, she notably stiffened up and slowed down, pretty much stopping her movements if it weren't for Namjoon softly patting her back, encouraging her to move forward.
„Hi F/N, I'm Seokjin, but you can just call me Jin okay? How are you?” his soft gaze was kept on her as she shuffled in her spot, before answering in a quiet voice. „It's nice to m-meet you Jin... I'm we-ll, thank you..” avoiding his gaze, she let Yoongi once again pull her along towards the seat near the head of the table.
Jumping in, Hobi was quick to pull out her chair, helping her take a seat and softly ruffling her hair. „There you go.. do you like juice? We have um.. I think we have orange and apple, maybe even peach one. Would you like some?” Looking up at the bright, smily man the small girl unsurely nodded, turning her head towards the pack alpha for approval. She didn't want to overstep her boundaries. Smiling with his dimples showing, he nodded easily while he poured himself a glass of water.
Meanwhile Jungkook, already a step further, looked through the fridge. „Yea, we have a really tasty peach one, I think you would like that one,” he said as he pulled out the chilled glass bottle, opening it „it's from a farm that's at the outskirts of Seoul. Here, let me pour you a glass.”
„Look at the back for the ingredients, we should be careful with those.” Said Jimin while he pulled out clean cuttlery from a drawer. Omegas were known to be very sensitive in general with pretty much anything - food, sicknesses, air pressure and temperatures and noise and a lot more. A stomachache was not what they wanted to happen.
Turning the bottle and reading the ingredients, Jimin soon looked over his shoulder and too studied them. Once reading over the four -pure white peach extract, water, sugar and vitamin C, they deemed it safe enough, pouring the meek omega a tall glass.
Thanking and slightly bowing in her seat, she took a small sip, and once her expression seemed a bit lighter and satisfied with the taste, the youngest alpha sighed out, patting her head. Taking a seat opposite to her, next to Hobi, he started to serve himself a plate of japchae.
The omega's plate was already filled long ago by the pack alpha, who handed her his cuttlery, getting himself a different set when he noticed she didn't have any at her place.
Just as she was going to dig in after another approval nod, with Yoongi on her left side, she heard another pair of footsteps. Another man, with slightly damp hair entered the living room, pulling out another chair and taking a seat with his eyes still slightly closed, only to have them shot open suddenly, focused on her.
„Why is the omega crying?”
⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ੈ✩‧₊˚✧˚ · .*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Next:
753 notes · View notes