#AND THE WORST PART WAS THAT IT WAS IN THE WOODS AND SO IM JUST SITTING THINKING | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thelov3lybookworm · 5 months

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Journals

Summary: everyone is happy

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Tw: heavyyyy angst, sad lil fic (literally what i named this before i came up with a title), mental health issues, depression, feeling unworthy of love, panic attack, self harm, self hate. thats all i can think of right now, but let me know if i need to add anything

A/n: based on this and this poetry by @gardenofrunar 🤭 you couldnt tell it was me could you pookie?

also, there is not really a bat boy our reader is supposed to be with, so im tagging this as all three of them. there will most probably not be a second part to this, but still, lemme know hat you all think

AND, im not trying to glorify what reader is going through in this fic. if you are going through something, please talk to someone. you are not alone, my loves ❣️

anyways, enjoyyyy!!

It was happening again.

The breathlessness was starting to creep up again on her.

And the worst part wasn't the fact that she felt like she was dying.

It was that she was alone. Again.

No one was coming. No one cared. No one would even realise she was gone until it was too late, and maybe that was a miracle.

Click.

The haze cleared slightly, and gasping for breath, Y/n stood, somehow making it to the stairs leading to her bedroom before her lungs constricted again.

She had no other option as she crumbled on the stairs, the hard wood digging into her sides and thighs.

She could not breathe.

She could not think.

She could not move.

She could not breathe.

A cruel laugh broke through her consciousness, the sound so familiar yet so foreign, Y/n could not help but sob.

You deserve this.

Azriel. It was him, no doubt. But the longer she sat there, other voices started joining in.

First Cassian. Then Mor, Rhysand. Amren.

Feyre, Nesta. Elain.

"Stop." She whispered, her hands shaking as she rose them to her ears, pressing as hard as she could. But no matter how much she tried to ignore it, the clearer the words became.

You deserve this.

You don't deserve us.

It's your own fault.

In an attempt to get away, to get some peace and quiet, she reached out, clutching the stair. The wood grains whispered against her palm, their sound lost to ears filled with taunts and laughter.

Still, she dug in her fingers, her nails screaming in protest, her heart yelling back in a horrific screech, beating loud enough to almost drown out her family.

Almost.

Pulling herself up, she reached out her hand, ignoring the pain as she did her best to haul her dysfunctional body up the hard terrain, trying to make it to her bed before she lost herself fully to the dark depths of her mind, losing all sense of her being.

Somehow, having no recollection of the climb, Y/n collapsed at the landing, her breathing erratic as she stared at the blurry paintings on the wall, gifted to her by Rhysand's mate.

Had they always been this blurry?

In the back of her mind, she realised that they were never blurry. There were just tears in her eyes, but she didn't think too much about that as she crawled forward, miraculously crossing the threshold to her room, the familiar smell of flowers Elain had gifted her last week pulling her out of her misery for a moment, enough to let her get up and stumble into the plush material of her bed before tears again erupted in her eyes.

They then came back, screaming in her ears about how much of a disappointment she was, how she deserved no happiness.

And she agreed with them.

But still, it hurt her heart to hear the people she cared for voice thoughts she only limited to the darkness of night, under the gentle presence of the moonlight.

You don't deserve happiness.

She knew the inevitable onslaught of her self hatred was about to break over her head, knew it was unavoidable and would probably have her moping for days.

Her mind started wandering, which in itself was alarming because as much as she wanted to stop thinking about her miserable life, she knew that any and all thoughts she had at these times would only work against her.

Rhys's tear stained cheeks, his bloodshot eyes and his quiet sobs as he clutched Y/n's hands between both of his, Y/n's soft cooing as she tried her best to soothe his wounds after his mother and sister's death.

As she held him after his return from under the mountain.

This was going to be a long night, she was sure.

Cassian's grumpy self refusing to eat after one of the Illyrians had again bullied him for not being good enough. Y/n's cheeks aching from how hard she was trying not to smile as she tried to convince the overgrown illyrian to eat something.

Azriel's shaky hands as she held onto him after a particularly bad nightmare that usually started keeping him up around the time his hands were burned, the anniversary o the time where an innocent little boy realised that the world was filled with cruelty.

Y/n being the first one to find out about Mor's liking in women and helping her sneak out to meet her lovers.

Y/n dragging gallons of fresh blood to Amren's apartment under the cover of the night when she knew the ancient being hadn't had the time to feast.

Her hands scrambled to find something to tether herself to, to remind her that this was not real and that it would pass. That her family did love her, and that they would never hurt her or want her to think this way of herself.

They would never hurt her the way she hurt herself.

They just wouldn't... would they?

Rhys's wide smile as he admired his mate while she spoke to a grinning Cassian, who in turn turned to Azriel to tease the blushing Illyrian. Mor, giggling over her glass of wine as she mumbled something to Elain, Nesta and Amren conversing in hushed tones next to the window, happiness shining on both their faces.

And Y/n watched on, huddled in her own little corner as she gulped down another glass of champagne, trying to focus on the burn in her throat as the liquor travelled down. Trying not to think of the way her breathing started coming in shorter pants, her lungs constricting in the too small rib cage that were set on killing her.

Trying to ignore the tang of copper in her mouth as she bit her own tongue, not wanting to speak and draw attention to herself, to ask for help because she was too unused to suffering in silence. Her family had always been there, and she had never had to go even a day without their constant nagging. She always had at least one of them guiding her through the worst of her days.

Trying not to think of how no one even glanced up as she exited the room, tears prickling her eyes, feeling like she was nothing but an intruder, watching from outside the warmth of the house, standing knee deep in the cold snow as she tried her best to keep warm by looking at the happy faces of her family, no matter how much she was freezing on the inside.

Her fingers curled around the lumpy material of her comforter, and she pushed forward, trying to ignore the tears that rolled down her warm cheeks and buried her head in the soft fabric.

And then let out the ear piercing scream she had been holding in, uncaring that she had let down the sound shield around her room.

She knew no one was around to hear.

She knew no one would come.

They were all too happy to worry.

Her stomach was grumbling, and she was glad it was because otherwise it would've been the cause for concern, considering she hadn't eaten in almost a day.

She was still so tired and wanted to do nothing but lay in bed all day and cry, but she needed to eat too.

And so here she was, chopping up some vegetables in a daze, not really paying attention despite wanting to focus on something that took her mind off of her thoughts.

It was not easy to stop thinking, so when suddenly the fog in her mind cleared, she glanced down.

The red of her blood was bright, and the longer she stared, the quicker the pain came, but it was only a tiny sting, nothing more than the bite of an ant in the shape of a knife.

She stared, and stared.

And then, she lifted her eyes, her gaze settling on her dagger, unprompted.

She smiled.

Writing was one of the parts of Y/n's responsibilities. Writing a letter to help the relations between the courts. A report for the high lord.

It was one of the things that broke her out of her own mind's torture, one of the things that made her feel like she wasn't entirely useless.

So here she was, just scribbling away senseless words in her journal, knowing she would hide it away before anyone saw it. Saw the blood stains.

For the first time in weeks, she was smiling, no tears to be found in her eyes as she lay on her stomach on the bed, her legs in the air behind her as she began doodling little flowers in the corner of the page, her inkpot next to her and her dagger in her other hand.

She went to dip in her feather pen in the ink, frowning a little as it created spots of ink on the crumpled paper, mixing with the dark red liquid that still dripped slowly from her fingers, little rivulets running down from her wrist.

As she continued, a tap on her mental walls had her pausing, and after a brief conversation with Rhys, she got up, closing her journal and beginning to clean the cuts on her wrist and around the journal and then donning a flowy, simple white gown.

It wasn't long before a knock sounded at her door, and she hurried to open it to find Cassian standing on her front porch, smiling.

"Hey Y/n, Rhys asked me to pick you up-"

Y/n nodded. "Yes I know, let me just grab my things and then we can go."

He shrugged, leaning against the doorframe.

She ran up the stairs and to her bedroom, grabbing the little bag she had put all her pens and previous reports into, deciding to carry them with her just in case.

She hurried back out within a few moments, but she saw that Cassian had moved, standing near the gates. Which was suspicious, but not too alarming as she stepped onto the porch.

"Let's go."

Before she shut the door Y/n turned and glanced around the house for the last time. Why, she didn't know. But she couldn't shake the feeling in her gut that something was wrong.

And she had known to always trust her gut.

But she turned around, locking the door before leaving.

Not realising her journal was missing from the table.

"I really don't want to pressure you too much Y/n, so if you don't want to be a part of this research, I understand-"

"Rhys, this is no burden. I'm actually honoured you even considered me for this project."

His brows furrowed, his smile turning confused. "What are you talking about Y/n? You're one of the smartest people I know. Of course you are included-" he trailed off, his eyes filling with understanding. "How have you been Y/n?"

Y/n blinked, pretending not to understand what he meant by that. Of course Rhys knew she struggled with feeling worthy of her family, and of course he made that connection.

"I've been good, Rhys." Y/n mumbled, an easy grin on her face as if Rhys's concern was ridiculous.

"Have you had any recent episodes-"

"Guess what I found!"

He paused, both their heads turning to where Cassian's booming voice floated through the cracked door.

Y/n's whole body ran cold, and before she could even question the reaction of her body to something that wouldn't have concerned her before, she was stumbling out the door, following Cassian's voice to the sitting room, where everyone else was gathered.

Cassian was grinning as he explained to them how he had gone to pick Y/n's up from her house, and how he found-

Her secret diary.

Y/n's eyes widened, her legs refusing to move as her gaze locked on the book Cassian held in his hand.

"Oh, look, she's here too!" He turned to her, his expression carefree and inviting. "Never knew you had a diary Y/n. What will I find if I read through it? Your secret lover's name? His-"

"Cass." Y/n warned, finally getting herself to move forward as he danced back, his hands beginning to crack open the book.

"Will I find your secret fantasies-"

He stopped dead in his tracks, all the emotions gone from his face as he stared at the page he had opened, his features hard. Y/n waited with bated breath, her head turning to gauge everyone's reaction.

Mor sat with Nyx in her lap, bouncing him as she glanced between Y/n and Cassian. Feyre and Azriel exchanged confused glances before Azriel stood, stalking towards Cass.

Panicked, Y/n jumped forward, but before her hand could wrap around her journal, he pulled away, face pale.

"What is this?"

"None of your business."

Azriel had stopped, his eyes wide as he stared at Y/n.

That's when Y/n realised he had smelled the blood she left on the pages.

Damn it.

Y/n stepped back towards the exit as she felt all the eyes on her, panic starting to dig its claws in her gut and begin its ascent up her throat as the shadows curled around Azriel's ear and his eyes went to her wrist, covered by the long sleeves of her dress.

Y/n turned to find Rhys standing in the doorway, his eyes filled with tears.

"Why?"

She glanced once at everyone, tears starting to fill her own eyes, her face flushing in embarrassment, mad that she had started crying over nothing, and pushed past Rhys, running towards the front door.

"Y/n!"

They will be mad.

You deserve it.

Y/n fled the river house, ignoring the concerned looks thrown her way by the people on the streets as she ran straight to her house.

They hate you.

The door slammed shut behind her as she leaned against it, gasping for breath as her lungs started contracting painfully, refusing to let her breathe.

The breathlessness was starting to creep up again on her.

It was happening again.

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1

@hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21

@mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria

@girlswithimagination @gardenofrunar @girlswithimagination @sunnyspycat

@artists-ally @riddlesb1tch @milswrites @berryzxx

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend

@stqrgirlies-blog @tele86 @bakananya @xyzmeh

@st4r-girl-official @caraaaaugh @nacho-nat @allllium

@fandomarchiveilyd @nickishadow139

Cassian Taglist: @moonlwghts @samslittlespoon @nickishadow139

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azulpitlane · 10 months

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got love stuck part 3 please i’m begging it’s so good i need it

out of the woods I ln4

pairing: lando norris x reader, exbf! mason mount x reader summary: in which lando has to communicate his insecurities but is he too late? notes: ask and you shall receive, this one took a while cause I had it all written out then I hated it and started over😇but this is the last part!! i loved making this thank u for being so supportive considering part one was my first ever post!! now send some requests hehe part one, part two, masterlist

lando i fucked up, its too late

danny ric what do you mean its too late?

lando i texted her and no response she went to dinner with mason tonight they're probably still together right now

danny ric okay so you're jumping into conclusions AGAIN you have to have some faith in her mate and stop assuming the worst

lando she was with her ex after our breakup what am I suppose to do?

danny ric communicate, you muppet you can't just give up after one try

lando okay okay you're right, i was overthinking im booking the next flight to london

danny ric um i was thinking maybe a phone call?

lando too late, already booked it

dailymail

102,339 likes

dailymail Trouble in paradise? Singer Y/n Y/l/n and F1 driver Lando Norris reunited in London today. Onlookers claim the two were having a heated conversation about their relationship and it is unclear whether the two are currently together or not. Was this argument result of Y/l/n's infidelity? The singer was spotted twice within this month with ex boyfriend, Mason Mount. Read more on the singer's relationship timeline with Mount and Norris in our article linked in the bio.

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user yes lets just make assumptions that y/n is a cheater based on nothing🙄

user if lando took her back ill be so mad. shes so toxic

user you have no idea what shes like in real life? you're just basing your opinion on some stupid tabloid that constantly spreads misinformation on her

user WAR IS OVER (THEYRE STILL TOGETHER IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS).

user YUP Y/N AND LANDO DEFENDER TIL I DIE user SAME IM CONVINCED SHE NEVER CHEATED IDC IDC

user this doesn't even look like a heated argument to me?? y'all be doing too much

user please let this be just a friendly conversation and her and mason got back together☹️

user its been a year, I think its time to move on from that relationship user yup!! shes clearly moved on y'all need to do it too user her relationship with lando has been messy from the start, she never had to deal with this drama with mason that's all im sayin

user this page is obsessed with y/n!! leave my girl aloneeee

yourusername

liked by landonorris, masonmount and 5,283,239 others

yourusername out of the woods out now.

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selenagomez on repeat already💙 liked by yourusername

user WAIT WHOS THE GUY IN THE LAST SLIDE

user HAS TO BE LANDO user praying its mase but I have a feeling its lando☹️

user the way these lyrics can apply to both mason or lando so we have no clue who its about🧍‍♀️

user and they both liked aghhhh!!!!

danielricciardo amazing song, so so proud liked by yourusername

francisca.cgomes can't stop listening im obsessed😍 liked by yourusername

user okay danny and the wags are all commenting this is a good sign for us lando and y/n defenders

alexandrasaintmleux you're so talented I love it!! liked by yourusername

user y/n dropping this after being seen with lando again, I think its time for us mason defenders to retire :(

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 920,482 others

landonorris want you for worse or for better, would wait forever and ever tagged yourusername

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user YES WE CAN FINALLY SAY WAR IS OVER

user I KNEW IT YES

yourusername and that's how it works💙

user these are definitely song lyrics AHHHH user landos listened to the new album omfsgnks user new album is gonna be mix of love and breakup songs with the drama methinks

user MOM AND DAD ARE DONE FIGHTING

maxfewtrell sap

user careful lando, once a cheater always a cheater

user where is the proof of her cheating?? there literally is none user they literally broke up after she was seen with mason user give up this narrative already!! her and lando are clearly happy together so who cares

yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 7,284,234 others

yourusername these past few weeks have felt like a crazy, emotional train wreck but there's nobody else I would've rather done it with than my best friend and lover💙 i usually never address anything like this but there are somethings that aren't easy to shake off especially when it comes to my relationship and my loyalty being questioned. there has never been somebody who has been so perfect for me and i would never trade this love for anybody elses. i could go on and on about it but i find it easier to communicate through music.

my new album is out tonight at midnight, it is a collection of songs written from last year to now. interpret the songs as you like but just know there is only one person im in love with right now.

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user OMFG WEVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

user she just nicely told all mason x y/n supporters to stfu

user not only that but she beat the cheater allegations🙏

user THIS IS SO CUTE WHAT

user "would never trade this love for anybody elses" IMCRYIN

landonorris love you so so much, dont know what I would do without you

yourusername lan love u more🥹 user AWWW user nobody can be a mason x y/n fan after this cause they are too cute

landonorris this album is amazing, im so incredibly proud of you and everything you've been through liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 very excited for this one liked by yourusername

masonmount this was very well said, congrats on the new album!! liked by yourusername

user OMG? user in their besties era omdfsnkln user I knew they were just friends through all this!!!

user okay officially retiring the mason x y/n agenda..it was a good run

user def the end of an era but our girl is happy🫶

user now that the drama is over can we focus on how good this album is gonna be

user fr the drought is officially over

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbff and 3,232,325 others

yourusername the love for my new album has been insane, thank you guys so much!! so many records broken just on the first day of the release and i couldn't have done it without you guys💙

now it is time to hibernate for a little bit and spend some much needed time off with my loved ones so this is a lil goodbye... for now!

see ya later

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user NO COME BACK

user gave us some lando content before dipping, thank u mother

user she took 'I know places we won't be found' to a whole different level because nobody can find out where theyre vacationing

user good!! they need some privacy after this messy drama

landonorris got you all to myself now

maxfewtrell gross yourusername perv

kellypiquet ❤️‍🩹 liked by yourusername

user but will we see you at the paddock next season🥹

yourusername ofc!! catch me rooting for my babyyy

user what a crazy era. hopefully well get some performances and lando supporting after this break

landonorris will be front row at every show user wag and rockstar's bf. try not to say parents challenge omg user can't wait for the content of them supporting each other at races and concerts ahhh

yourbff pls dont make me an auntie soon im too young

yourusername okay im officially logging off.

tags: @jayrami3 @whoselly @roseseraj @saturnbloom77@landowecanbewc

#lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #ln4 #f1 fanfic

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coffeeshades · 2 months

Text

credits to the gif maker!

GUILTY AS SIN...? - PART II

summary: one summer with the man you can't have, but can't stop thinking about.

pairing: cillian murphy x popstar!reader

word count: 9.1k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). explicit sex. angst. cussing, slight age gap, mentions of alcohol and divorce. no use of y/n, heavily inspired by ts and ttpd. if i missed something please let me know. (also this is a work of fiction, none of it reflects how i feel about the people mentioned in this, most importantly cillian's wife, who im sure is a sweetheart irl. it's fiction, just relax and enjoy it, and if not, move along, friends.)

a/n: hi everyone! here's the second part, finally. i had lots of fun writing this one, happy reading <3

part one

After staying at Cillian's for awhile, you decided to go to the place you had rented. The truth is, you didn't want to leave, but you had already extended your stay longer than planned, and you wanted to give him space with his kids. And you also wanted to give him time to process the event that took place four nights ago in his bathroom. Or you wanted to give yourself time to process it.

At this point, you weren't sure who needed the space more.

It was all very confusing because, yes, you've had feelings for him for God knows how long, but you've squashed them down like a stubborn bug for the sake of your friendship and, most importantly, his family. Those two things were always at the forefront of your mind, guiding every action and decision. But now that his family is no longer a factor and the two of you almost crossed a line, it's hard to ignore those feelings.

Those feelings that crawl up your spine every time he smiles at you or brushes against your hand accidentally. Those feelings also make you feel like the worst person in the world, as if you're betraying his ex-wife and their children by even entertaining the idea of something more with him.

It's all so delicate.

The cottage is nestled between rolling green hills and the glimmering blue of a distant sea. The place is like a warm embrace. The floors are laid with wide, honey-colored wooden planks, their surface worn smooth by generations of footsteps. Exposed wooden beams crisscross the ceiling, their rich, dark wood adding a sense of history and sturdiness to the space. The walls are painted in a soft, creamy white. The master bedroom is a haven of tranquility, with white linen curtains billowing softly in the breeze from the open window. The bed, with its wrought iron frame, is piled high with quilts and pillows in soft shades of blue and green. It's the best sleep you've had in months.

It rained earlier today. You've stayed inside all day, not wanting to venture out into the wet weather. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the window was a soothing backdrop to your day, but it stopped around mid-afternoon, leaving behind a fresh, clean scent in the air.

Now you’re sitting at the rustic wooden table beneath the pergola, one leg tucked under you, grapevines overhead casting dappled shadows on the weathered wood. The garden around you is alive with color—wildflowers in every shade imaginable sway gently in the soft breeze, and the lavender and rosemary release their fragrant scent into the air.

Bon Iver’s voice drifts softly from your phone, which lies next to your notepad on the table. The music is haunting, its melancholy tones matching the weight in your chest. You’ve been here for hours, or maybe it’s only been minutes—time seems to blur together lately.

The notepad lies open beside you, filled with half-written lyrics, fragments of thoughts and emotions that you can’t quite bring yourself to finish. The pages are messy, scribbled lines crossed out, some words barely legible, as if your hand couldn’t keep up with the rush of thoughts.

You’ve been chasing this dream for so long—touring, recording, performing in front of thousands of people—but somewhere along the way, you’ve lost sight of why you started. The music that once brought you so much joy now feels like a burden; the words that once flowed effortlessly are now tangled up in doubt and frustration. The applause, the fame, the success—it’s all there, but it feels hollow. It feels lonely.

The sun is beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the water, but you’re too tired to move. You prop one leg up the chair and rest your chin on your hand. You focus on the water, trying to find some solace in its steady flow. But all you can feel is a deep, gnawing sense of unfulfillment, a yearning for something you can’t even name.

How pathetic.

You’re tired, so tired, and the dream that once seemed so bright now feels like a chore.

The door creaks open behind you, and you catch the faint sound of footsteps on the stone path. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. Cillian moves with a certain quietness, a soft presence that you’ve come to recognize. The footsteps grow closer until they stop just to your left.

"You should lock your door," he says, his voice low, carrying a hint of amusement but also concern.

You let out a small, tired laugh, not bothering to look up. "Didn’t think anyone would come by," you reply, your gaze still fixed on the stream; its gentle flow is the only thing that seems to make sense right now.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stands there, his shadow blending with yours. Then he pulls out the chair next to you, the wood scraping softly against the stone, and sits down. You can feel his eyes on you, but he doesn’t press, just lets the silence settle around you both.

You hear him shift beside you, and from the corner of your eye, you see him glance down at the notepad on the table. His gaze lingers on the unfinished words, but he doesn’t say anything about them. Instead, he just leans back in his chair, looking out at the water with you.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks, his voice softer, almost reflective. "I know that look. The one that says you’re miles away, stuck in your own head."

You don't respond, knowing that he understands you more than most people. The music on your phone shifts to another Bon Iver song, this time Beach Baby.

He continues. "You know, sometimes I think about all of it—this life, the fame, the roles I play. It’s bizarre, isn’t it? I spend so much time being someone else, living in someone else’s skin, that it’s easy to forget who I am when the cameras stop rolling."

His words hang in the air, and you turn your head slightly to look at him. His expression is thoughtful, his blue eyes distant, like he’s lost in his own memories. "It’s like… sometimes, I feel more like myself when I’m acting, when I’m being someone else. That's what made me fall in love with it in the first place. I just loved being somebody else. It’s easier, somehow. But then there are those moments, when the lights go out, and I’m just… me. And that’s when the loneliness creeps in."

You nod, understanding more than you’d like to admit. "It’s the same with music, I guess," you say quietly. "There’s this rush, this high, when you’re on stage, when everyone’s looking at you and you’re giving them everything you’ve got. But then it’s over, and you’re left with the silence, the emptiness. It’s like… who am I when it stops?"

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and you can see the shared understanding in his eyes. It’s a strange comfort knowing that someone else gets it, that you’re not alone in this feeling of being lost.

You take a deep breath, the weight of the words you’ve been holding back suddenly becomes too heavy to keep inside. "I guess that's why I'm here. To escape. To escape the pressure, the expectations and…just be," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Everything is a performance. Everything. When we're out in the world, we're expected to act a certain way, to fit into a mold. We have to edit ourselves. As honest as we try to be, there's always a part of us that remains hidden. And it's exhausting."

Cillian nods, his gaze never leaving yours. "And when you’re alone, you can let go of that and let your mind just be still," he says, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s thought about this a lot. "It’s quite peaceful, isn’t it? But it’s also… terrifying. Being alone with your thoughts, with no distractions, no one to perform for. It’s like staring into a void sometimes."

You swallow hard, the truth of his words hitting you square in the chest. "Yeah, it is. But it’s also when I feel the most myself. When it’s just me, and I don’t have to be anything for anyone. Just… here, in the quiet, letting my mind rest."

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The garden around you is alive with the soft sounds of nature—the rustling of leaves, the gentle murmur of the stream, the distant call of a bird. Bon Iver’s music still plays from your phone—Holocene.

You break the silence. "Sometimes I think about it. I think about letting go of it." It's a terrifying thought but also strangely liberating. You don't know what it means completely yet, but just saying it out loud brings relief. Cillian just looks at you, his eyes reflecting understanding and empathy.

It was so easy, existing with him.

In this moment, you feel a little less lost, a little more understood. And as the sun dips lower in the sky, a mix of orange and pink hues, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re not as alone as you thought.

The next day dawns softer, brighter. You wake up with a sense of calm that had been missing for a while. There’s a lingering warmth from yesterday, the conversation with Cillian still playing in the back of your mind. As you sat at the same wooden table this morning, you found yourself scribbling lyrics that flowed easier, more naturally. They’re different—slower, more deliberate. There’s a depth to them that feels right, as if you’re finally tapping into something real, something honest.

Last night had ended quietly. After that heavy talk in the garden, Cillian stayed for dinner. The two of you kept the conversation light, avoiding the unspoken tension. It was there, hovering between you, but neither of you brought it up. Instead, you talked about mundane things and watched Punch-Drunk Love in the quaint living room. He pointed out every little detail he liked in it, and you listened, soaking in the emotion in his voice.

When the movie ended, he promised to see you the next day, and you reassured him it was fine, that you understood his absence. You meant it, even though a part of you always ached for more of his presence.

Today, with that newfound energy, you decided to venture out. An early morning walk turned into a drive to the nearby town. You pulled on a cap and sunglasses—a funny and somewhat ineffective disguise, but it was something. The town was charming, with narrow cobblestone streets, quaint shops, and a relaxed pace. Most people didn’t give you a second glance, and for that you were grateful. It was nice to blend in, to be just another person out enjoying the day.

You wandered through the market, admired the local crafts, and even picked up a few things—a handmade bracelet, a small painting of the Irish countryside. Lunch was at a cozy little café, tucked away from the main street. You ordered a hearty bowl of seafood chowder, rich and warming, with fresh bread on the side. As you sat there savoring the meal, your phone buzzed. It was Cillian, asking if you wanted to grab drinks tonight. You hesitated, your mind running through a dozen reasons to say no, but in the end, you agreed. You wanted to see him again, even if you couldn’t quite admit how much.

Back at the cottage, you took your time getting ready. You set the atmosphere, lighting a few candles, playing some soft music in the background. It felt good to take care of yourself and put a little effort into how you looked. You chose a pair of jeans that fit just right, a black top, and your favorite leather jacket. Casual but confident. A swipe of red lipstick added a touch of boldness.

You didn’t know where the night would take you, but you felt ready.

Cillian arrived right on time, his car rolling up the gravel drive just as you slipped on your jacket. When you stepped outside, he was already out of the car, leaning casually against the door. He smiled when he saw you—a warm, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Ready?” he asked, his eyes flicking over your outfit with an appreciative glance.

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied, a hint of nerves bubbling up but quickly pushed aside.

The drive to the pub was easy, the conversation flowing effortlessly. You talked about your day, the town, the little things you’d picked up. He told you about his new movie coming out later this year, based on a novella set in the mid-1980s in a small Irish village. There was a comfort in the exchange, in the way your words mingled with the sound of the tires on the road.

When he pulled up outside the pub, you couldn’t help but grin at the sight. It was a small, unassuming place, the kind of spot that felt like a well-kept secret. The sign above the door was weathered, the windows glowing warmly from the inside. It looked cozy, inviting.

“Do I need to bring out my disguise?” you asked, amused, as you glanced at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, you’re safe here. No one’s going to bother us. I’ve been coming here for years. They don't give a shit about me.”

He was right. The pub was perfect—dimly lit, with a mix of old and new music playing in the background. The crowd was relaxed, more interested in their conversations than in who might be sitting at the next table. You found two empty stools at the bar and settled in.

Close to the drinks. Perfect.

You ordered beers—the kind that tasted awful but somehow fit the atmosphere. Cillian took a sip of his beer, and the reaction was immediate. He groaned, his head falling back as if in defeat, eyes closed as he savored—or perhaps endured—the taste. The dim light from the pub’s old-fashioned fixtures cast a warm glow on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline and the shadow of stubble that had begun to form. His lips, still wet from the beer, parted in a wry smile that spoke volumes of his disdain for the drink. His brow furrowed slightly as he kept his eyes closed, letting out a deep, exaggerated sigh as if the beer was the worst thing he’d ever tasted.

It was a dramatic performance, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how absurdly handsome he looked even in that moment. There was something endearing about it—the way he could make something so ordinary seem so intense. His dark hair, slightly tousled, fell over his forehead, and you found yourself staring longer than you meant to.

“Bloody hell, that’s awful,” he muttered, finally opening his eyes and giving you a side glance. His blue eyes sparkled with trouble, the corners crinkling as he caught the expression on your face. “You should’ve seen yourself, though. Looked like you were trying to swallow glass.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, please. You looked like you were about to keel over from one sip,” you shot back, sarcasm lacing your voice.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and the amusement in his eyes deepened. “Can’t argue with that,” he admitted, taking another sip with a grimace. “Piss beer, this is. I’d almost prefer water.”

“Almost,” you teased, lifting your glass to take another drink. The foam clung to the rim as you sipped, and you made a point to keep your expression neutral, though you could feel the bitterness spreading across your tongue.

Cillian leaned in a bit closer, his Irish accent growing thicker with each drink. “But then, what would we have to complain about, eh? I think the shite beer is half the charm of this place.” His voice was smoother, more relaxed, and you noticed the way his words seemed to roll off his tongue, rich with the lilting cadence of his heritage. It was endearing, undeniably so, and you found it increasingly hard to focus on anything else.

“Is that what they call charm here? I must’ve missed the memo,” you quipped, smirking as you met his gaze. The clever back-and-forth felt natural, easy, and it warmed you more than the alcohol ever could.

“You’re lucky I’m here to explain it to ya,” he said, leaning in just a bit more, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “Otherwise, you might’ve gone your whole life without knowing the joys of terrible Irish beer.”

“Oh, I’m so grateful,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your words, but your smile gave you away. “I’ll add it to the list of things you’ve taught me.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying the banter, and you noticed how close he had gotten. His arm was now resting casually on the back of your seat, and every so often, your knees would brush, those accidental touches sending a small, electric thrill through you. The pub’s atmosphere, once filled with distant conversations and the clinking of glasses, now seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. The world outside the booth blurred away, and all that was left was Cillian’s presence, the sound of his voice, and the faint, intoxicating scent of him that mixed with the pub’s woody, earthy aroma.

The more you drank, the closer you both seemed to get, each sip loosening the barriers that had been in place. His laughter grew louder, more infectious, and his accent, more pronounced with every word, sent a shiver down your spine. It was more than just the alcohol—there was an ease between you that you hadn’t felt before, a sense of connection that went beyond the usual playful exchanges.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned in even closer. “I think I’m starting to like this beer.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk, feeling a little more brave. “Is that so? Or is it just the company?”

He chuckled, his breath warm against your ear as he replied, “Maybe a bit of both.”

A familiar flutter stirred in your chest—the undeniable pull that you’d been trying to ignore for days. But tonight, in this pub, with its terrible beer and terrible lighting, you decided you didn’t want to fight it anymore. Not here, not with him.

You moved on to something stronger, whiskey that burned going down but left a warmth spreading through your chest that felt as intoxicating as the alcohol itself. With each sip, the edges of your nerves smoothed out, and you felt looser, braver, and a little sexier. You sat on the bar stool with your body angled slightly toward Cillian. The leather of your jacket creaked as you shifted, the red of your lipstick standing out against the dim light. You felt his gaze on you, not just looking, but really seeing you, his eyes tracing the curve of your neck down to where your top dipped, lingering just a moment longer than usual.

His look was hungry, but it wasn’t just that—it was curious, intrigued. He rested his elbow on the bar, leaning closer, his knee brushing against yours as he picked up his glass, watching you over the rim as he took a sip. The whiskey seemed to bring out the blue in his eyes, making them sharp and piercing, but there was softness there too, an openness that had grown.

“You know,” you began, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. “I was just thinking about the first time we met.”

His eyebrow arched in curiosity, and he leaned in a little closer, his interest piqued. “Oh yeah? That was… what, 7 years ago? At the Globes, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, taking another sip of your drink, the liquid courage giving you the confidence to broach the subject. “Yeah, that’s right. And you… well, let’s just say you weren’t exactly my biggest fan.”

Cillian looked taken aback, a surprised smile curving his lips. “What? I don’t remember it like that.”

“Oh, come on, Cill,” you said, playfully nudging his shoulder. “You kind of hated me."

He laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t hate you. I just… I guess I had some preconceived notions about you."

“Preconceived notions?” you asked, a teasing glint in your eyes.

He hesitated, looking almost sheepish as he ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I thought you were this… I don’t know, shallow, self-absorbed person. Just someone who was there for the attention, you know?”

You let out a mock gasp, placing a hand over your heart in faux offense. “I’m wounded! I can’t believe you thought that about me, really.”

He chuckled, but there was a hint of regret in his voice as he added, “But I was wrong. I figured that out pretty quickly.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, leaning in a little closer, your voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “When exactly did you figure that out?”

“The first time we really talked,” he said, his voice equally soft, the words carrying a weight they hadn’t before. “After I saw you in the hall, crying. I don't know. You were so real, and I realized you weren’t what I thought. Not even close.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Wow, so I had to have a full-on breakdown just to convince you I wasn’t a shallow, self-absorbed diva? Good to know, Cill. I’ll make sure to cry more often around you.”

He laughed, bringing his fingertips to his lips, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Not quite what I meant, but I guess it did the trick, didn’t it?”

You remembered that night vividly, how everything had seemed to spiral downward so quickly. “I was having the worst night,” you said laughing, a slight bitterness creeping into your tone as the memories resurfaced. “I’d just been dumped by the world’s biggest asshole that morning, and then there you were, tearing down everything I said with some esoteric joke.”

Cillian winced slightly, the regret more pronounced now. “Yeah… I wasn’t exactly charming, was I?”

“You were a bit of a jerk,” you admitted, but there was no malice in your words. “But you made up for it with that burger offer.”

A grin spread across his face as he remembered. “I wasn’t sure you’d say yes.”

“Well, I figured a burger with you was better than sulking alone,” you replied, smiling at the memory. “And it was. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was exactly what I needed.”

His expression softened. “I’m glad I asked, then.”

The bartender interrupted your conversation to ask if you wanted another round, and without a second thought, you both nodded in agreement. It seemed neither of you were ready to call it a night. The place was warmer now. As you waited for your drinks, your eyes drifted to the ceiling. Neil Young's "Harvest Moon" played softly in the background, the gentle melody weaving through the low murmur of conversation.

You glanced over your shoulder and noticed that a few couples had begun to dance, swaying gently to the music. There was something so natural, so easy about it, that you couldn’t resist the urge that bubbled up inside you. Turning back to Cillian, who was taking a sip of his drink, you couldn’t help but smile. “Come on,” you said, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Dance with me.”

Cillian raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a mix of amusement and skepticism. He muttered something in reply but you couldn’t quite make it out. It only made you more determined.

“I didn’t catch that,” you teased, leaning in closer as if trying to decipher his words. “But I know what you’re going to say.”

“Oh, do you, piano woman?” he shot back, his tone light but with a challenging edge.

“Yes,” you said, grinning. “You’re going to say that you don’t dance.”

Cillian chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “You’re right about that. I don’t.”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a low, persuasive tone. “I know, but you’ll indulge me anyway.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if weighing his options. Then, with a small, resigned sigh, he downed the rest of his drink in one go and set the glass back on the bar with a decisive thud. Before you could react, he grabbed your hand and stood up, pulling you along with him.

It caught you by surprise, the suddenness of it, especially considering he had just insisted he wasn’t the dancing type. As he led you toward the makeshift dance floor, he leaned in and said with a grin, “You’re lucky I like you.”

You laughed, a loud, genuine sound that felt as freeing as the night itself. “Oh, am I now?”

He smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, because otherwise, there’s no way I’d be making a fool of myself like this.”

You shot back with a playful, “Well, let’s see just how much of a fool you really are, then.”

As you reached the space where others were already swaying to the music, Cillian took your hand and pulled you in close. You could feel the warmth of his body, the solidity of his frame as he moved with you, the two of you finding a rhythm that was surprisingly in sync. It wasn’t anything fancy—just simple, slow movements to match the easy tempo of the song—but it felt intimate, like you were the only two people in the room.

Cillian leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Did you know I'm a failed musician?”

You couldn’t help but smirk, the alcohol loosening your tongue.

“Failed, huh? So, what happened? Couldn’t hack it with the rest of us rockstars?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. "Something like that. I was in a band, actually."

You leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “You? In a band? Color me shocked.”

It was kind of hot, imagining him on stage with a guitar in hand.

"We even had a record deal and everything."

"What happened?"

Cillian’s expression softened as he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of nostalgia. “My brother was still in school at the time, and my parents basically told me I could fuck up my life if I wanted, but I couldn’t take him down with me. So, it fell through.”

As you continued to sway together, the story of his past unraveled between you, each word carrying a hint of regret mixed with fond memories. “Those were great times, though,” he continued, his eyes distant as if he were seeing it all again. “I’d be out late, drinking, playing music in small pubs, thinking we were going to make it big. It was a bit of a rush, you know?”

You could imagine him there, young and reckless, with that same intensity in his eyes that he carried now, but wilder, untamed by the years. “So music was your first love, then?” you asked, your voice soft, genuinely curious.

He nodded, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, I suppose it was. I had been playing instruments since I was little. There’s something about it that just… gets into your blood. But then, acting came along."

“When exactly did you know that's what you wanted?” you asked, wanting to peel back more layers of him.

His smile turned almost bashful, as if recalling a secret he hadn’t shared in a while. “There was this guy who ran the Cork theater company—had a huge man crush on him. He was brilliant, and I ended up doing a workshop with him. After that, I just pestered him for an audition until he gave in.”

You chuckled softly at the thought of a young Cillian, determined and probably a bit of a nuisance, chasing after something he wanted so badly. “And that was it?”

“Well, there was a drama module in school when I was about 16, 17—during the transition year. That’s when I first got the bug. Ended up starring in A Clockwork Orange. It was sexy, dangerous, unlike anything I’d ever seen. I loved playing someone else, losing myself in the character.”

He paused, then flashed a self-deprecating grin. “There’s not much to look at, but if you give me a minute…"

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his modesty. “You’re selling yourself short,” you teased, leaning in closer, your bodies moving in sync to the music. "Cill, you literally have an Oscar."

“Ah, the Oscar... just a glorified doorstop, really,” he quipped, his tone light but with that familiar undercurrent of humility.

"It's the work that matters, blah blah blah," you joked, rolling your eyes playfully. His eyes were crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. "Exactly," he agreed, before pulling you into a twirl.

"Do you miss it? you ask, hands circling his neck as you sway. "Music, I mean."

Cillian blew out a slow breath, his eyes growing thoughtful as he considered your question. “Sometimes,” he admitted. "But life has a way of taking you where you need to be, not where you want to be.”

His words settled over you like a blanket, warm and heavy, as you mulled them over. Is this where I need to be? The question echoed in your mind, reverberating through the deeper corners of your thoughts. You weren’t sure you had an answer. You were a successful artist, living the dream so many could only imagine, but there was always that lingering sense of something missing, a quiet ache that you couldn’t quite place.

Where do I need to be?

The thought spiraled, unfurling like an endless thread, pulling at the edges of your consciousness. You started questioning everything—your choices, your path, the very essence of who you were. Those words seemed to tap into something deep inside, a reservoir of doubts and desires that you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, almost like you were talking to yourself more than to him.

You rested your head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around you, swaying slowly. See, this is the thing about Cillian, he had a way of making you feel seen and understood, even when you didn't fully understand yourself, even without saying a single word.

The warmth of Cillian's arm around you, the subtle way he moved—it all felt so natural, like this was where you were supposed to be. But then, the memory of four nights ago crept in—the way his breath had hitched as you said you weren't going to stop him from going further, the tension that crackled between you both like a live wire.

The room suddenly felt too small, too warm. Heat flushed through your body, a dizzying sensation that made it hard to focus on anything other than the way he was looking at you. A knot formed in your throat, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing pulse.

The memory was like a current running through you, making you hyper-aware of every point of contact with him. The room suddenly felt too small, too warm. Your mind was swirling with thoughts, the alcohol making you bolder, more aware of the things left unsaid.

"I can't stop thinking about what almost happened the other day."

“What almost happened?”

He let out a low, almost inaudible chuckle, his lips dangerously nuzzled in your hair. “Don’t play coy with me, love. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach, the way your body reacted to his nearness. “I’ve tried to stop thinking about it,” he continued, his voice a hushed murmur that only you could hear, “but I can’t.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken desire. You wanted to let go of the restraint you’d been holding onto all night, but you were still aware of where you were, of the people around you—even if they weren’t paying you any attention. The thought of crossing that line, right here in the middle of the pub, was both thrilling and terrifying.

But Cillian, sensing your hesitation, didn’t push.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression serious but laced with that familiar smirk. “Wanna head out of here?” he asked, his voice low but with a note of urgency.

You didn’t need to think twice. “Yes,” you breathed, the word escaping your lips before you could stop it.

The night air hit you like a shock to the system as you stepped outside, the cool breeze carrying with it the faint scent of rain. The streets were quieter now, the lively noise of the pub fading into the background. You were drunk, the world tilting slightly with each step, and neither of you could drive.

Cillian pulled out his phone, his fingers deftly dialing the number for a cab. You watched him as he made the call, the way his jaw tensed slightly as he spoke, his voice low and calm despite the alcohol humming through his veins. There was something undeniably attractive about the way he carried himself, even in this moment of mundane practicality.

“What about your car?” you asked, your words slightly slurred but still coherent.

He glanced over at you, a small, reassuring smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll pick it up in the morning,” he replied smoothly, his accent curling around the words in that familiar, endearing way. “Don’t worry, love.”

The cab arrived not long after, the headlights cutting through the night as it pulled up to the curb. Cillian opened the door for you, and the two of you slid into the backseat, sitting close together but not touching. Not yet. The space between you crackled with unspoken tension, the thrill of anticipation hanging heavy in the air.

You found yourself playing with your ring-clad fingers, the cool metal a small distraction as the silence stretched out between you. The driver turned up the music a bit, and the opening chords of Inhaler’s "Dublin in Ecstasy" filled the car. The song was somehow fitting, its pulsing beat and haunting lyrics adding to the electric atmosphere.

It started to rain, the droplets tapping against the windows and turning them foggy, adding a sense of intimacy to the small, enclosed space. The outside world became a blur of lights and shadows, the city fading away as the cab sped through the streets. You could feel Cillian’s gaze on you, the weight of it almost tangible as you sat there, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

You turned to look at him, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The music became more intoxicating, the beat syncing with the rapid thudding of your heart. He noticed you bopping your head slightly to the rhythm, and a small, surprised smile crossed his face.

“You know this?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

You smirked, leaning back against the seat as you replied with playful confidence, “I know every song ever made, actually.”

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Is that so? A human jukebox, then?”

“Something like that,” you teased, the conversation light but charged with something more, something neither of you could ignore any longer.

The cab’s interior felt smaller, more suffocating as you neared your destination. When you finally arrived at his place, Cillian paid the driver, and the two of you got out, raising your jackets over your heads to shield from the rain, which had grown heavier. You both ran to the entrance, your footsteps echoing in the quiet night as you giggled like teenagers, the spontaneity of it all making you feel light, carefree.

He fumbled with his keys for a moment, the sound of metal clinking against metal filling the air before he managed to unlock the door. You stepped inside, the warmth of the house a stark contrast to the chill of the rain outside. The living room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the faint glow of the night sky through the large windows. The shadows played across the walls, casting everything in a soft, almost ethereal light.

You tossed off your jacket, letting it fall to the floor, your clothes clinging to your skin from the rain. You could feel the fabric sticking to your body, the dampness making you shiver slightly, but the heat in the room—and the heat between the two of you—kept you from feeling cold. Cillian wandered off somewhere for a moment, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited, the anticipation almost unbearable.

When he returned, his eyes locked onto yours, a predatory glint in his gaze that made your breath hitch. He took a step closer, the distance between you shrinking to almost nothing as he asked, his voice low and laced with a hint of something dangerous, “What should we do now?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with suggestion, and you felt a rush of heat flood through you, your pulse quickening. You moved toward him, your steps slow and deliberate, closing the gap until you were inches away. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly despite the bravado in your words.

His hand reached up, fingers brushing against your cheek before trailing down to remove a stray piece of hair stuck to your face. His touch was light, almost reverent, but it sent sparks of electricity through your skin, making you feel like you were on fire. His hand continued its path down your arm, and you followed it with your eyes, watching as his fingers traced the outline of your veins, the simple action making your breath catch in your throat.

He moved his hand up to your shoulder, his fingers ghosting over the strap of your top before slowly sliding it down, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your skin burned under his touch, a mix of desire and something else—something that felt like shame, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It felt too good, too right.

His hand slid up to your neck, his grip firm but not painful as he held you there, your breathing coming in short, ragged gasps. You clung to his black t-shirt, your fingers digging into the fabric as you tried to steady yourself, but the room seemed to spin around you, the intensity of the moment making you dizzy.

Cillian’s eyes bore into yours, his expression dark and filled with an unspoken promise as he whispered, his voice rough and filled with desire, “Tell me what you want.”

You wanted him—every part of him. You wanted to forget everything else, to lose yourself in this moment, to give in to the desire that had been simmering between you for days. And as his grip tightened slightly on your neck, pulling you closer until your lips were just a breath away from his, you knew there was no turning back.

"Kiss me," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

So he did. He kissed you, long and slow. His lips were soft yet urgent, and you melted into his touch. Your hands found their way to his damp hair, tangling in the strands as you deepened the kiss, savoring every moment. His breath mingled with yours, warm and laced with the faint taste of whiskey, his hands still cradling your face as if you were something fragile, something to be cherished.

But then the kiss deepened, the restraint unraveling as the need between you grew too powerful to contain. His hands slid from your face down to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The kiss became more urgent, more demanding, as if he was trying to consume you, to lose himself in you. You responded in kind, your own hands gripping his t-shirt, pulling him closer, wanting more—needing more. The heat between you intensified, the tenderness giving way to something hotter, something that felt like it had been a long time coming.

The rain continued to patter softly against the windows, a distant sound that seemed to fade into the background as your focus narrowed to just him—to the way his hands gripped your waist, to the way his breath hitched when you bit down softly on his lower lip.

You started moving backward, the need to feel him against you overwhelming any thought of where this might be going. Your feet stumbled slightly as you both moved toward the couch, the dim light from the windows casting your entwined shadows across the floor. He guided you, his hands firm and sure, but there was a tenderness in the way he led you, as if he was still holding back, still trying to keep a grasp on the control that was slipping away.

You reached the edge of the couch, and he paused for a moment, his gaze intense as he looked at you, his chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath. “You're in control here,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, thick with the weight of the question, with the possibility of what was about to happen. "We stop whenever you want to, okay?"

Ever so polite, you thought. You answered him by pulling him down with you, your lips finding his again with a renewed urgency. The cushions gave way beneath you, the soft fabric enveloping you both as you sank into it. His body pressed against yours, the weight of him grounding you.

As the kiss deepened, became more frantic, more desperate, you could feel the tension in him—the barely restrained control he was struggling to maintain. His hands roamed over your body, landing on your jeans and slowly playing with the button, a silent request for permission.

"Don't stop now," you teased, your voice barely audible against his lips. He responded by deepening the kiss even further, his hands moving with purpose as he unbuttoned your jeans. He stopped for a moment, lowering himself to his knees in front of you, his hands taking off your shoes before sliding your jeans down your legs. He positioned himself between your legs once again, kissing you rough this time.

The couch was vast and soft underneath you as one of his hands traveled up your thigh—still not as high as you wanted it. You let out a needy moan, encouraging him. When his fingers brushed against the edge of your already wet panties, you couldn't help but arch your back in anticipation. He pushed them aside, his eyes never leaving yours. When his fingertips made contact with the wetness of your folds, he groaned too, in a way you found very satisfying.

"I've thought about this…a lot," he murmured, slipping a finger inside you, making you gasp with pleasure. "What you might sound like. What you might taste like. What you might feel like."

He pulled away from you swiftly, and you moaned at the loss. He kneeled down in front of you, his gaze intense as he leaned in to kiss your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine. He pulled down your panties. You went stiff, suddenly aware of how exposed you were. He opened your thighs a little more, as if he wanted to see more. "I want to make you feel good," he whispered. "Let me taste you."

"Yes," you breathed out.

You couldn't stop looking at him as he pleasured you, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. Each flick of his tongue and gentle bite made you arch your back in ecstasy, completely lost in the moment. His hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. He groaned in pleasure, and you opened your thighs wider. His tongue was thorough and deliberate, exploring every inch of you with precision. Your hands grabbed the couch cushions, trying to ground yourself as you felt yourself spiraling into pure bliss. And just when you started to roll your hips, he slid two fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made you gasp and moan uncontrollably.

It was too much. Pleasure consumed you as you arched your back violently against his touch and you moaned his name over and over again, letting go. You were drunk on him— his touch, his mouth, his scent—lost in the euphoria of the moment.

"Fuckin' incredible."

Well, yes, fucking incredible indeed. But not as incredible as it would feel to have him inside you completely, filling every inch of you. To reduce him to the whimpering mess he had just turned you into.

Before Cillian could do anything, you sat up and pushed him flat to the floor. You were both drunk and too eager to make it to the bedroom, so you might as well just do it right there on the living room rug.

He grunted in surprise, but his hands quickly found their way to your hips as you straddled him, pulling you closer. You removed your top, your breasts spilling out as you leaned down to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. His fingers gently tangle in your hair as you pull away from his mouth, pulling his black t-shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

He stopped breathing as you worked your way down his chest, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles until you reached the waistband of his jeans. Your hands made quick work of the button and zipper, and you eagerly slid them down his legs, revealing his growing arousal.

When your fingers wrapped around it—fuck—his skin felt hot and smooth against your touch, his breath hitching. You positioned yourself to take him in your mouth, savoring the taste of his desire as you licked a slow, teasing path along his cock. Cillian let out a ragged moan, his hands tangling in your hair.

You lifted your eyes. He had propped himself up on his elbows, watching you with his lips parted, pupils blown.

You had him.

You took him deeper, relishing the way he arched into your mouth, his groans spurring you on. With each flick of your tongue, you could feel him losing control, surrendering to the pleasure you were giving him. "Fuck, stop," he gasped, his voice strained with need. "I need to be inside you."

“Condom?” you asked, the question hanging in the thick air between you.

“Upstairs,” he said, his voice rough, almost pleading.

You hesitated for just a second. “I don’t mind… if you don’t.”

For a moment, he froze, his blue eyes darkening as they searched yours, as if to make sure he’d heard you right. Then, with a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, he nodded.

You released him with a smirk and sat up, swung over him. You positioned yourself so that his hands were on your hips, guiding you down onto him. The anticipation was electric, every nerve in your body alive with the need to be closer to him, to feel him, completely and without anything between you.

As you sank onto him, his eyes rolled back in ecstasy, a low moan escaping from both of you. The feeling of being filled by him sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire between you that burned hotter with each thrust. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you matched his rhythm, lost in the intensity of the moment.

This was going to end you.

His movements became more urgent, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered your name. The room was filled with the sound of your mingled gasps and moans, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to echo off the walls. He felt so good, so right. His thrusts became more deep and harsh—you wanted even more. As if he read your mind, he sat up against the couch and kissed you deeply, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Bloody hell," he murmured against your lips, both his hands grabbed your face as he looked deeply into your eyes, and you circled your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and circling your hips in rhythm with his. Your breasts pressed against his chest, the heat between you both rising as your bodies moved in perfect synchronization. He was close—you were close. His hands roamed your back, your ass, and your breasts, and you threw your head back when his mouth found its way to your nipples.

"Oh fuck," you gasped, "Yes, oh—" you screamed as white-hot pleasure shot through your body, causing you both to reach the peak of ecstasy together. You felt his cock swell, filling you completely as he released with a guttural groan.

The intensity of the moment left you both breathless, bodies entwined in a tangled mess of limbs and sweat. He had leaned back to the floor, and you had gone with him. He was rubbing your back, and your face was pressed to his chest.

"You okay, love?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin. You hummed, feeling content and safe in his arms, basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

You stayed like that for a moment, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you, the quiet rhythm of his breathing syncing with yours. His fingers kept tracing those gentle patterns on your back, grounding you, reminding you that you were still here, still connected. The afterglow wrapped around you both, a warmth that made you feel safe, cherished. You could still feel him inside you.

“How bad would it be if we just stayed here?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the moment. There was a part of you that didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break the spell.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest, and you could feel the rumble against your cheek. “Well, love,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, “I’m not sure how comfortable the floor will be in about twenty minutes, but I’d say it’s worth a try if you are.”

You laughed, the sound light and free. “Fair point,” you conceded, shifting slightly to look up at him. His eyes were warm, a little teasing, but there was an underlying tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

“Come on,” he said gently, his hands sliding down your sides as he carefully helped you up. “Let’s get cleaned up. I promise the bed is much more inviting.”

He rose to his feet, extending a hand to help you up. You accepted, your legs feeling a little shaky as you stood, still a bit lightheaded from everything that had just happened. His hands lingered on your hips, steadying you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the care in his touch.

Together, you made your way upstairs, his arm draped around your shoulders as he guided you toward his bedroom. The space was warm, cozy, with a lived-in feel that made it undeniably his. The bed was unmade, sheets rumpled, as if he’d just gotten out of it before coming to find you.

He led you to the bathroom, where the soft glow of a single light illuminated the space. He turned on the shower, testing the water temperature before gesturing for you to step inside. You did, letting the hot water cascade over you, washing away the remnants of the night, though the memory of it clung to your skin. He joined you a moment later, his hands gentle as he helped you rinse off, his touch tender, almost reverent. You stood under the water together, letting the steam envelope you both.

When you were both clean, he handed you a towel, wrapping another around his waist. He left the bathroom for a moment and returned with a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, offering them to you.

“Here,” he said with a soft smile. “This will do.”

You took the clothes, slipping them on. The fabric was soft, worn in, and it smelled like him—woodsy, with a hint of something earthy and warm. You found yourself breathing it in, the scent comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.

When you were both dressed, he led you to the bed, pulling back the covers and slipping in beside you. He held the blanket up for you, and you slid in next to him, the cool sheets a welcome contrast to the warmth of his body. He immediately pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your waist as you nestled into his side, your head resting on his chest once more.

The room was dark, but the faint light from outside filtered in through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the walls. You could hear the rain still pattering against the window, a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy between you. His hand found yours under the covers, fingers intertwining as he held you close, his breath warm against your forehead. You could feel his heartbeat under your palm, steady and reassuring, and it lulled you into a state of deep relaxation.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard you. You don't know for what exactly you were thanking him, but it felt like the right thing to say in that moment.

He responded with a gentle squeeze of your hand, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your hair.

You didn’t need to say anything more. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. You both knew that tonight had changed something between you, something profound and unnameable, but for now, it was enough to just be here, together.

a/n: there you have it, i hope you guys liked it!! please like, reblog and comment. i wanna hear your thoughts! and as always, thank you for the support <3

#cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #cillian fic #cillian murphy fluff #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #my writing

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eggyeop · 3 months

Text

hot summers

small drabbles/hcs of summer toji

cws: idek probably fluff, maybe slightly suggestive

summers with toji were the worst. (they werent that bad.) it was simply that the heat in his home, had intensified the antagonizing from toji sometimes. it didn’t help that he preferred using cheap white fans and half broken acs that leaked water to cool the house, because most of the time, he didn’t care enough to make his house a home. before you, it was a place to sleep and store his belongings.

but sometimes just being able to wake up every day in his home was worthwhile. he lived in a home where it made you feel like it was in the countryside, secluded and good enough to allow you to build a small garden on the side of his small home.

your favorite part of the home was the area designated for people to remove their shoes. you would wait for toji at the same time everyday when he would come back, watch him sometimes stumble on one foot as he peeled his shoes off, or rubbing his shoulders as he carefully took his shoes off because he knew you would scold him.

you loved these times, because of the small chatter you would exchange, it was your reminder of how much he loved you everyday.

he would always turn around and walk straight up to you or into your arms, some days you’d undo his tie and loosen his shirt, other days you could tell that he wanted to indulge in your embrace.

he didn’t mind whatever you had in plan. just made him feel safer that he had a home to come back to.

there would be days where you are tending to your garden, the summer fruits vibrant and instantly causing a shine in your eyes. he’d slide the sliding door open swiftly, shooting you with the insanely small water gun that he found out of megumi’s room.

there was one day he didn’t plan that out well; he got shot with the hose. he wasn’t very happy after that, smirking after he had soaked your clothes through—you smacked him upside the head after that.

you loved watching after megumi, feeding him watermelon on the hottest days, or fanning him softly and humming while he was napping, at those times, toji would become jealous and sit at the couch with a pout displayed on his face.

you gave him attention too, of course.

or those days where you would agree to bathe together, you’d prepare the bath cold to battle the heat and he would screech like a cat once he hit the water. you’ve never giggled so hard until that day, you believed.

there were some days where it would get unbelievably hot, nobody in that home could stand it. he knew not to get on your nerves, or you would end him. you and megumi would lay on the cool wood floors sprawled out, giggling together about each others recent shared interest.

summers usually feel like the worst in toji’s home, but they were worthwhile.

an: im crying so hard i lug toji

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji fluff

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yandere-sins · 1 year

Note

Im loving this naga stuff sm omg and it’s got me thinking.

What if they were to leave reader for a few minutes, only for someone to find them and maybe try and take them back? Or them just talking to the reader in general

Had an idea for a scenario with Ghost! Thanks for requesting ^-^

Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Attempted Non-Con), Violence (Death of minor character, Brutal Death), Monsters

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"Thank-- Thanks!"

You barely had the breath to utter a word, but neither did your savior, coughing and panting in front of you. If it hadn't been for the fact that you two were racing through the forest mindlessly, "escaping" being the drive to keep you running, you might have expressed your thankfulness a little more. This had to do for now. Even though you two still weren't in the comfort of a town with big, sturdy walls and guards with weapons, you had gotten quite far in your mad dash through the thicket, every inch away from the hell that was the lair you had been kidnapped to, feeling like you were finally free.

"Thank you so much!" you croaked, your voice hoarse and your mouth dry despite sweating profusely. "You can't imagine," you added, swallowing hard as your throat stung. "That monster in the woods... that... snake... it captured me and held me there for some reason. I wouldn't have been able to escape without you!"

The man—a hunter or soldier, you reckoned, considering he knew the forest so well—waved his hand dismissively, stretching out his back and taking deep breaths, collecting himself.

"Please, anyone would help when they found someone in such a dire situation as you were," he comforted you. You tried to smile through the pain aching through your whole body, the impromptu workout rattling every bone after weeks of being carried around and doing nothing.

Steadily, the man was regaining his composure, so you tried your best to keep up, not wanting to look lousy in front of your savior. He looked around, scanning the area, before pointing his finger somewhere further south and turning towards you. "There's a hut just a few minutes from here. It's getting dark, and we should stay out of sight in case we're being followed. What do you say?"

Gulping, you wished his suggestion had been more like, "The city is just a few more steps from here. Let's take shelter behind a safe stone wall full of guards and trained soldiers to protect you." Then again, you wouldn't be as ungrateful to his efforts as to suggest you two kept going until you could truly settle into the safety and protection of civilization. You didn't want to stay one more night out in the forest, but a hut sounded better than to be found wandering out and about in his habitat.

There was a lot to unpack, and you weren't sure if you'd ever get over what happened to you. Still, when your savior closed the wooden door, drew the curtains over the windows, and handed you a blanket to bundle up, you felt like the first step towards healing had been made. A fire might have given away your presence, so you wrapped the blanket tightly around you. However, it was barely enough to cover everything, your legs sticking out if you didn't pull them against your chest.

It wasn't comfy or warm, but it was the first time you truly realized you made it out. Things had been rough living with that thing. People would call your stories crazy if you talked about a strong half-man, half-snake, feeding you raw meat and occasionally fruits while keeping you coiled in his tail. They'd think you'd gone mad if you told them about the white, skull-like marks on his body and face or how he'd bury his face in the crook of your neck, jittering happily. The worst part was that he couldn't speak to you, even though you thought he tried a few times, but there were no words spoken between you two ever. You couldn't explain his intentions or thoughts to anyone, not even yourself.

For a while, you two sat in silence, breaths calming down. The man handed you some dried meat and his water flask, sharing what little he had, and you gobbled it up with your gratitude, thanking him again and again. You could feel him watching you, even through the darkness inside the hut, but you thought nothing of it. He must have been concerned for this stranger he found in a ditch, hidden away, crying and begging for help when he passed by accidentally and took them on a run through the thicket. All while they kept whining about some monster kidnapping them. It sounded crazed and suspicious even to you, but you were glad he listened to his heart and helped you despite the wild story behind your misery.

"Thank you so much," you mumbled again, unable to stop thanking him. Tears welled up in your eyes as the realization of your escape settled further, something you had started to fear wouldn't ever be possible after so many days spent with the monster. You sobbed quietly as the relief washed over you in big waves, wishing you could stop and not look so pathetic in front of a stranger. However, he put his arm around your shoulder, drawing you into his chest, and you could no longer hold back your ugly crying.

It felt good to be held again in a warm embrace, hands patting your head, your back. It was different from the claws and scales, the sensations only ever bringing you terror. Instead, you were comforted by the humanness of the kind stranger, so much better than what you had come to know from the monster. Palms rubbed soothing circles between your shoulder blades, and arms that were strong but not as firm as your captors hugged you tenderly. His touch warmed all of your back, fingers slowly dipping lower, massaging the soreness in your muscles until they ended up above your ass, making you jolt.

"Sorry," you apologized, wiping your eyes as you tried to slide away, thinking it was a mistake where his hand landed. However, the arm around your shoulder didn't budge as you tried to slip out, his other hand creeping up your leg instead, brushing aside the blanket.

"I don't mind," the stranger muttered, leaning forward. His nose brushed against your hair, and you heard him taking a deep breath, inhaling your scent that you didn't even want to know what it smelled like. Immediately, goosebumps erupted all over you, your body tensing under his touch as you turned stiff as a board.

"How about you thank me some other way since we'll be stuck here together all night? Let's take some of that tension off you, shall we?"

You could hear the disgusting grin on the man's lips and knew exactly what he was suggesting. Your eyes darted to the door, knowing where it was even in the darkness. Only a small bolt locked it from the inside, and as the stranger's hand crept higher on your thigh, fingers pressing and massaging the flesh, you were planning your way out frantically. The sound of him letting out a long, satisfied sigh was enough to finally put your plans into action while you were filled with disgust.

"Please stop!" you pleaded, pressing your hands to his chest. Still hoping to find reason within him. You cursed the monster for actively encouraging you to do as good as nothing while it had captured you, all your muscles seemingly evaporated as you couldn't even push him an inch away from you.

"Come on, don't I deserve a reward?"

"No! Not like this, please! I don't want that!"

"Don't be like that now! I helped you, didn't I?"

Panic made your blood pound in your mind, pumping you full of adrenaline that you thought had all been emptied out while you ran from your captor. You hadn't realized the man's thoughts, disgusting, vile, and opportunistic, no different from the monster you were with before. But if you had to choose, you chose neither.

Luck was in your favor, and as the man tried to topple you over, the barely helpful blanket gave you a chance to slide out from under him, your nails scratching over the floor as you got to your feet, dashing towards the door. He tried to get up after you, though he wasn't as quick and found less hold on the ground, so you had time to find and unbolt the lock with shaky hands; your breath uneven as you tore open the door and ran into the dark night.

The small clearing before the hut was eerily quiet, but with your blood rushing in your ears, you didn't notice the absence of sounds. Unfortunately, that was also where you ran out of luck, your foot getting stuck on a root, tripping you over badly.

"Come back here, you idiot!" the stranger whisper-yelled after you. On one hand, he had a point: neither of you should be out at this hour, causing a ruckus. But you were way past reason as you knew that going back there would mean he'd do something to you, one way or another. You had escaped one monster, but your fellow human was no better than one. Different, yet just as harmful.

"It was just a joke! Come back here right now! You're getting us--"

His voice was cut off, and you didn't hear his steps behind you anymore, confusion forcing you to look back over your shoulder as you stumbled to your feet. Clouds seemed to break open at the exact moment that you looked at him, letting the moonlight through as you found your footing in a daze, furrowing your brows as you noticed the stranger not staring at you.

His mouth hung open, head tilted back, his eyes wide and filled with unimaginable terror. You were appalled yet intrigued by what he saw when your body crashed into a wall, the unmistakable feeling of scales rubbing over your skin. There was nowhere to run as the elongated body you knew too well started to wrap and tighten around you, a large hand sinking to your back, its palm covering it protectively, keeping you pressed against the monster you initially ran from, his black scales enveloping you in darkness.

"It's- It's real," the man mumbled, his voice turning into yelling as he continued in a ramble, "It's real! It's actually real!"

All you could do was shiver as you heard the man laugh manically behind you. As if he hadn't believed you until he saw the monster you had described. You didn't know what was better: running away alone, staying with the beast, or being with the stranger. Every one of these options made your gut churn. How did he even find you? How could he catch up so quickly despite you two running all day? When you ran out of the hut, you hadn't even seen a shadow, much less a body, so where had the monster come from?

The creature leaned down, his humanoid upper body hovering over you, palm pressing you against him a little more. And in what you could only describe as monstrous comfort, you felt a rumble go through him, soft and even, his thumb brushing over your back. It was different from the comforting touch of the stranger, but no less ill-willed and a lure into more danger. Even when the monster tried to seem less like the bad guy, you knew it was far from the truth. The trust he attempted to pull out from your subconscious as he protected you, was misplaced and unwarranted. His hands were cold, his body abnormally. Like a ghost, sending shivers down your spine and spooking you to your very core.

Behind its purr and comfort, he was still a monster.

You gasped and flinched—hard—when you heard his tail slam into the ground, the maniacal laughter dying instantly and being replaced by the cracking of bones and splashing of flesh. You didn't dare to look back, couldn't stomach a glance at the dead body smashed into pulp behind you.

Even when the monster picked you up, your arms wrapping around his thick neck instinctively as you had so many times before, your mind ordered you to be compliant, but you couldn't stop shivering. You didn't want to submit to the monster, nor did you want to end up smashed and dead as well. Just like before, you cried into the shoulder of your savior pitifully as he carried you back into the dark forest, clawing onto you and not giving you the same lucky chance to slide out of his grasp.

He carried you for a long time at a leisure place, ducking under branches and brushing away thorny bushes, and only then did you realize how far you had come—how close you were to escaping the creature. The despair tore your sanity into pieces. He had no hurry while carrying you back, but when he sunk underground, the moonlight fading from your sight, you knew it was hopeless.

The monster laid you down into soft furs, the darkness surrounding you a familiar threat, forcing you to experience every touch and every sound much more intense than before. It had never spoken to you in all the time you two were together, but it didn't let you forget it was there. His face rubbed against yours, tongue lapping at the pulse in your throat, and he purred and hummed, his tail coiling around your leg, scales scrapping over your skin.

He rested his face against your throat, taking a deep, audible breath, and you thought back to the man who had tried to save you, doing the same. Monsters, you thought. Monsters, all of them.

"M-- Mhm--" you suddenly heard, feeling the vibration in the creature's chest, and you held your breath, the sound almost familiar, like a voice.

"Mat-- Ma-tsss--" Slowly, the pronunciation got clearer, strained and uncanny as it was, followed by a hissing sound. You couldn't help the goosebumps on your skin, the scales tightening around you as they felt the change, imprisoning your limbs while the monster kept trying to speak in an unfamiliar tongue.

You saw the glint of his eyes hovering above you, something dripping down onto your cheek. You had no way of knowing what it was, but by the sounds of straining, you guessed it was drool as the monster tensed and flexed his jaw for more mobility. You could only stare in wonder and fear alike.

"Wha-- What?" you uttered, confused and agitated by the whole situation, frightened and unsure what to make of it.

"Mi-- Mine," it finally stammered out, and time seemed to halt as you stared, bewildered. It had never said a coherent word to you, much less did you think it understood your talking. But as the darkness and silence carried one, he repeated it, and you felt like, finally, everything was beginning to make sense.

"Mate. Mine."

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michibap · 2 months

Note

Lake fic wjth sclatt I beg

Lake Fic p.1

guys i still don't know how to make my posts pretty shits PISSING ME OFF

also im dividing this into diff parts bc i had so much to say

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-one thing about jschlatt is

-if there's a gathering?

-he's dreading it

-it doesn't matter who is in attendance

-it could be beloved family, close friends, or casual coworkers

-just knowing that there's a function that he's expected to be present at weighs on his spirit during the days, or sometimes even weeks leading up to it

-preemptively exhausted by the expectation to be social

-he steels himself as he loads the last of your bags into your car, bracing for the weekend ahead of him

-soon, the two of you were to be off to your family's annual weekend on the lake

-and he's shitting his pants over it

-it's been haunting his dreams for WEEKS, waking up in a cold sweat after being tormented with nightmares of worst case scenarios

-realistically, he knows he'll probably be fine

-this is far from his first encounter with your family

-having been invited to multiple barbecues, holiday celebrations, birthdays, etc.

-it's not like they don't like him

-if anything, it seems like the opposite (or so he thinks) (or hopes)

-nearly every time he's seen your family in the past years he's known you, they've eagerly asked when he plans on pulling up to the notorious lake house that he’s heard about so many times

-having been shown countless pictures taken there during your childhood, and told even more stories about the shenanigans that take place there every year

-you've just,, never invited him

-well aware that he was easily drained by social situations, you didn't want to burden him with a long weekend in an un-air-conditioned house, packed in like sardines with your family

-so every year, up until now, he'd hang at home by himself while you fuck off into the woods for the weekend, completely cut off from the rest of the world due to the house's remote location

-so,

-when you asked him to tag along with you this year, he was a little taken aback

-what changed?

-why invite him now, after so long of being content to go your separate ways for this one weekend?

-of course he accepted, despite his confusion

-but he did spend the time leading up to today conjuring up nightmare scenarios

-what if this is secretly an intervention, and your family is planning on separating the two of you?

-what if it was actually an annual cult gathering, and you're in charge of bringing the sacrifice this time around?

-what if he gets so anxious while he's talking to your dad and he just keels over on the spot and throws up on his shoes?

-his anxieties fall to the back of his mind for a moment when he hears the front door slam close

-looking up to watch as you make sure it's locked one final time before turning to him with a smile,

"You ready to rock and roll?"

-he bites back a smile and rolls his eyes, digging through his pocket for your keys so he can toss them to you

"Don't father me."

-you only laugh and settle into the driver's seat

-and he climbs into the passenger seat, a little hesitant

-unused to being the Passenger Princess ™️

-however, after being told that after a certain point the gps stops working and most of the roads are unpaved, he agreed to taking the old beater that you refuse to part with instead of one of his expensive sports cars.

-once you're sat and buckled in, you turn in your seat to face schlatt, looking a little unsure

"You're positive you wanna come?"

-you watch as he pauses and can see the way his brain kicks into overdrive, eyes darting around your face, trying to guess what the right answer is

"I just don't want you to feel like I'm dragging you along. Like, if you don't wanna come-"

-oh!

-he relaxes when he realizes it's a you thing, and not a him thing

-he stops you from rambling, reaching across the center console to place a reassuring hand on your knee

"Baby," he interrupts, a sincere look on his face

"There is nothing I want more than to come."

-a moment of silent passes, both of you staring at one another

-it's broken by Schlatt,

-who could no longer keep himself from snorting at his own play on words

-you roll your eyes and swat his hand off of your knee,

"You're the worst." you grumble as you turn to start the car

-and off you go!

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

-on the third hour of the car ride, the reality of the situation really begins to set in

-he hasn't had service for the past hour, and the radio had stopped picking up any signals shortly after

-and he was lowkey struggling to come to terms with just how disconnected from the rest of the world he was

-most of his LIFE revolved around the internet, it being how he made a living, kept in contact with friends and family, entertained himself

-after stewing for another minute or two, he let out a groan,

“God, can we put on some fucking music? I'm sick of sitting here listening to you breathe."

You laugh,

"Looks like you've got a long weekend ahead of you, sweets."

-you turn to him with a smile, "Hold this?"

-and he's left to scramble to reach over to grab the wheel, shouting at you as you stretch into the back seat to grab something that was seemingly jammed under one of the seats

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

-you scoff as you return to your intended position, tossing a small box into his lap as you settle back in,

"Don't be a puss, there's no one else on the road."

-he looks at you, bewildered, eyes still frantic and wide

"WE COULD HAVE DIED??"

-you shrug

"All you do is complain, first you want music, then you don't want me to get the music, then you yell at me."

-he stares at you for a minute, mouth agape as he waits for you to break, laugh, something

-he shakes his head when you don't,

"You're fucked in the head."

-proceeds to turn his attention to opening the box you had tossed at him, finding that the box was filled with a variety of cds

-some classic oldies, some obscure recession pop albums, rock, jazz

-he picks out an boy band album and holds it up to you, raising his brows with a cheesy smile

-you roll your eyes and knock it out of his hand

-deeper in the box, he finds some personalized cds with handwritten covers, eagerly looking through them, taking in the doodles and personalized little notes written on them

"Jesus, you've just been hiding this in here?"

"You never let me drive." you answer plainly

"Fair enough." he nods

-he plucks out one that's titled "Dad's Mix", reading the back and finding a listing of songs that he approves of before popping it into the radio

-both of you smile when the sound of fleetwood mac fills the car, loudly singing along to the first few songs

-schlatt grabbing your hand and pretending it's a microphone as he (very badly) freestyles a rift

-and all of a sudden, his lack of access to the rest of the world becomes less anxiety-inducing and more freeing

-no emails to answer

-no twitter beef to avoid

-no business calls to make

-no responsibilities aside from remembering the lyrics to the chorus and keeping you company

-eventually he drifts off to sleep, lulled by the wind in his hair and the sound of you humming and gently drumming your hand on the side of the car along to the beat

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

-he wakes back up to the sound of the tires rumbling over gravel and dirt, sitting up again and looking out the window, out at the unpaved road ahead of him

-and he notes, absentmindedly, that he can't remember the last time he saw another car on the road

-he shifts in his seat, a little anxious

-and the thoughts of everything that could go wrong start to creep in again

-your car could break down

-somebody could get hurt at the house

-your family might spontaneously decide that they hate him

-you guys could get into a fight and break up and be trapped out there together

-he pauses and takes a deep breath before he turns to look at you to ground himself

-your hair blowing in the wind, one hand on the wheel and the other stuck outside the window, beating against the side of the car, matching the beat of the song, sunglasses on

-and not a care in the world as you sing along to the song on the radio

-you must feel his eyes on you, because you glance over at him before breaking into an excited, toothy grin

-and pull your hand back into the car, placing it on the wheel so you can use the other to grab his knee and excitedly shake it

“We’re so close!”

-and who is he to deny you a smile in return??

-he sits up a little straighter, more alert now that he knows you’ll be arriving soon

-surveying the area

-AS A MAN SHOULD

-but he's thrown sideways, yelping as you suddenly take a sharp turn onto an even bumpier road, trampling through the over grown branches that were blocking the view of the long driveway from the road

"Oops!" you giggle

-he doesn't respond, too busy reading the array of signs that the two of you drive past

'PRIVATE PROPERTY: DO NOT ENTER'

'NO TRESSPASSING: Violators will be shot, Survivors will be shot again'

'BEWARE OF DOG"

-you either fail to notice his growing anxiety of choose not to acknowledge it, driving further down the road until you finally reach the end of it, where the house is

-well, it's more of a cabin

-schlatt recalls having been told that your grandfather had built it himself

-and you could tell just by looking at it

(no offense)

-a little worn down and wonky looking, but obviously lived in and well loved

-you pull up as close as you can manage, with there being at least 14 other cars packed into the driveway

-you unbuckle your seatbelt and he follows your lead, looking over to see when you opened your door to get out

-but you don't

-instead, you spend a moment fondly smiling at the house before honking your car horn

-on the porch, he sees a rather large rottweiler stand up from where he was laying, alert

-jay pales a little, wondering if that BEAST was the "dog" the sign was warning trespassers of

-he's too anxious about watching the dog hurl itself towards the car, jumping up on his side of the car and snarling at him through the now slobber covered window to watch as a handful of people file out onto the porch

-his head whips over when you finally open your door, completely disregarding the fact that there was an animal actually trying to eat him outside

-his eyes go impossibly wide and his mouth drops open when you're tackled full force by a GROWN MAN the minute you get out of the car

-which is suddenly surrounded by people???

-oh god oh fuck

-this is it

-he thinks he's having a heart attack

-THERES SO MUCH HAPPENNG AT ONCE

-before he has the chance to process anything, somebody is nudging the dog away from the window, and he's being pulled out of the car by a strong hand on his shoulder

-he relaxes a bit upon seeing it was your older brother, whose laughing at his frazzled expression as he pulls jay into a bro-hug

-and it must breathe the life back into him or something, breaking him out of his panicked daze, allowing him to take everything in

-he's surrounded by a small crowd of people who all look vaguely similar to you

-some are greeting him, others are glancing at him as they whisper back and forth to one another

-but most attention is turned to where your uncle is dragging you and the cousin who tackled you off of the ground, before shoving a can into your hand

-jay watches in awe as you crack open the can, before using a manicured nail to puncture a hole into the bottom and shotgunning it as your cousins cheer

-he turns when he feels another strong hand clapping him on the shoulder, finding another one of your cousins smiling at him as they push a can into his hand as well

-And so the weekend begins 😼

-after choking down whatever the fuck your cousin handed him, the crowd moves to file back into the house

-it's a mess of too many people trying to squeeze into the door at once, paired with the squabble of eight different conversations happening all at the same time

-he steps foot into the house, taking a moment to admire the interior

-well loved furniture, vintage signs, taxidermy (eugh), knitted quilts, and countless framed photos hanging on the wall

-his admiring is interrupted when you slip your hand into his, leading him to follow where four of your cousins are leading you up the stairs, the others having parted with promises to "See you in the back"

-he follows you into a small room right by the stairway, blanching when he sees one mattress pushed into the corner of the room

-to make room for the air mattress and two sleeping bags that were cramped in there as well

-the tallest of the group that had tackled you (Schlatt vaguely remembers his name being Alex) throws himself onto the bed, bouncing a few times before sitting up to look at the two of you

"Looks like you guys're roomin with us!" he chirps

-it's followed by a small chorus of "Hell yeah's"

-but schlatt is still awkwardly looming in the doorway when all heads turn to him,

"Is that alright with you, princess?" your other cousin, who he could remember was named Harper, teased

"Dude-" hissed Benji, Harper's twin, slapping her shoulder

-he shakes his head with a laugh,

"Yeah, nah I'm good." he reassures, before breaking into a sarcastic grin, "Cozy."

-part of him settles when his small tribe of roommates laugh, before moving to stand up

"Well, we're gonna head out back while you two settle. We'll see you guys out there!"

-the moment the two of you are alone, schlatt is face planting into the air mattress (that he had assumed was for the two of you)

-deflating as he released the breath he didn’t know he was holding

-he sighs when he feels the mattress dip beside him, humming as you smooth a hand over his back

“You alright, baby?” you murmur

-he brings his head up to give you a lazy smile as he moves to drag himself so he can plant his head in your lap,

“‘m all good, doll. Just needed a minute.” he clarified, muffled from where his head is nestled into your thigh

-you laugh, moving your hand from rubbing over his back to carding through his hair, and he lets out a relieved groan

“That’s fair,” you muse, “I know it can be… kind of a lot, at first.”

-he briefly lifts his head to level you with an unimpressed look.

“Understatement of the goddamn century.”

-you narrow your eyes and use your other hand to pinch his cheek, shaking it a little,

"Watch your tone with me, boy."

-after a few more minutes of decompressing, the two of you change into your swim suits and meet the rest of your family out back

-you open the back door and it's an assault on the senses

-Schlatt's nose is flooded with the smell of campfire and grilling meat, there's classic rock playing from a shitty old speaker, and your family is scattered throughout the yard

-some are busy playing cards at a picnic table, some men are gathered around the grill, others are sat around a campfire or in a circle playing hacky sack, and there are more lounging by or splashing about in the lake

-before he has the chance to get too overwhelmed, you're slipping your hand into his and leading him to where your father called you over by the grill

-you stand by as they make awkward small talk, chatting about sports and work and whatever the fuck

-he tenses when the large dog from earlier lumbers over, pleasantly surprised when it plants it's ass on his feet, happily panting as it looks up at him, waiting to be pet,

"Aww, she likes you!" you cooed, reaching out to scratch behind her ear, ignoring how your hands stink a little when you pull back

(old dogs always have a certain stench to 'em)

-"Oh, good!" he says, before reaching down to awkwardly pat the dog's hulking head, "What's her name..." he pauses to read the faded name tag on the dog's collar,

"Sweaty?" he reads aloud, glancing up to you, confused

"It's Sweetie." your father interjects, "Pappaw didn't finish elementary school."

-schlatt blanches, feeling like he breached an uncomfortable subject

-before the crowd breaks into a fit of chuckles,

"He's fucking with you," Pappaw himself corrects from the adirondack chair he was lounging in, "I just thought it was funny callin 'er sweaty. And she stinks like a motherfucker."

-Schlatt laughs himself, and easily slips into conversation with the jaded old man

-it flowed naturally, with you occasionally popping in to supplement where schlatt faltered

-his chest puffing up a bit when you brag about his job and the recent trip to Japan he had treated you to

-however, you're not by his side long

-because in a flurry of chaos, a small herd of children emerges from the lake, little legs pumping as they sprint towards you full speed, little face connecting with your lower stomach at full force

-you groan, but are given no chance to recover

-little hands are grabbing at you from all directions, using their collective efforts to drag you to the shore

-you can only send an apologetic smile over your shoulder as you're ushered off, leaving schlatt to his own devices with the men of the family

-luckily he has man-talk down to a science, only having to answer a few questions about work and such before it was acceptable for his input on the conversation to be a correctly timed grunt

-he passes time by petting the dog, who hadn't moved from it's seat on his feet and watching you down by the water

-you're about shin deep, fighting for your life

-you're holding off one kid who was trying to swing on you with a hand to his forehead, your other hand occupied with another child that you're dangling over the water by his ankle

-you must feel his eyes on you, because somehow when you look up, you almost immediately meet his gaze

-and shove the hitting child's head away just enough to send him tumbling back into the water before using your newly freed hand to wave him over

-schlatt politely excusing himself from the conversation he wasn't really participating in to go to you

-walking diligently enough to not get caught in another conversation on his way

-finally making it down to the shoreline, excited to finally be back by your side

-he watches you make an attempt to meet him half way, struggling to trudge through shallow water with a child clinging to each leg, laughing

-but suddenly it's not funny any more when all of the children who were previously pestering you turn their attention to him

-and suddenly there are little hands rubbing over his facial hair like this was some kind of petting zoo, and he's being barraged with questions

"You're her boyfriend?"

"Why?"

"Do you guys kiss?"

"What's a zucchini?"

"That's Mr. Beast?"

"Have you ever held hands?

"My mommy asked when you guys are having a baby"

-he yelps when a little hand pulls at his leg hair

"Why are you so hairy?"

-wants to tell them to scram, but they're all objectively adorable children

-each of them looking a little bit like you, whether it be the hair, eyes, nose, or troublesome giggle

-and maybe this is a glimpse into his future, but he can't say no to those little faces

-he ends up being forced to launch multiple children through the air and into deeper water

-goes to pick up one of the younger children, stopping in his tracks with wide eyes when he bursts into tears,

"You're not Mr. Beast!" the child wailed

-he turns back to you with a bewildered look, which you return with an embarrassed smile,

"Alex told all of the littles I was dating dollar store Mr. Beast." you explain, a little exasperated

-eventually, another adult comes down to the lake and is bombarded by the kids, giving you and jay a chance to escape

-he follows your lead, swimming after you to the floating dock your grandfather had built a while back

-laughing as you drag his ass out of the water and onto the dock

-the two out you laying out there for a while, basking in the sun like turtles on a log

-enjoying the sun and the ambience of the lake, listening to the combined sounds of nature and the distant chaos of the lake house

-he wants you to have a tanline in the shape of his hand on your ass SO BAD

-but you're like "stop i'm tanning"

-so ofc he takes it as a challenge

-turns into him just trying to get his hands on you while you try to get away, laughing

-and it's cute, until you end up accidentally rolling off of the platform into the water

-and he's laughing too hard to keep a proper center of gravity as he tries to haul you back onto the dock, and ends up falling right back in beside u

-when he comes back up to the surface, you're still laughing so hard you're struggling to tread water

-so he swims over and allows you to latch onto him, floating as the two of you catch your breath, eventually relaxing into one another as you float in the refreshing (kind of brown) water

-he shifts a little when he feels you pull away

-tries to play off the way his breath hitches when he sees you looking down at him with a fond smile, bringing a hand up to push the hair out of his face

-watching intently as your lips part like you're about to say something

-before you're interrupted by raucous shouting from a few yards away

"OI!"

"SAVE ROOM FOR JESUS! You two should be ashamed!"

"DON'T GET THE PARTY STARTED WITHOUT ME!"

-both of you turn to see your three cousins, all precariously balanced on a single paddle board, along with a large cooler

-you grin, and use your hand that was still tenderly cupping your boyfriend's cheek to dunk him under the water

-and swimming towards the board, intentions clear with your troublesome grin

"Back away, wench!" Alex yelled, trying to bonk you with the paddle, but missing when you ducked under again

-Schlatt laughed, watching as the board began to aggressively wobble

-Alex and Harper grappled onto one another, screaming, and Benji clutched the cooler,

"HAVE MERCY!" Benji cried, "THINK ABOUT THE TWEAS"

-at that, the wobbling stopped

-and your head pops back up from the water,

"Did you say tweas?"

-skip to the five of you getting hammered out on the dock

-all dehydrated, all sunburnt, and all having a great goddamn time

-wresting each other into the water, drunkenly attempting to do a variety of tricks when you jump off

-however, the vibe changes a bit once the sun drops below the horizon

-the sky is beautiful, the five of you laying face up to admire it

-however, when you sit up, something is a little.... strange...

-maybe you're still a little (really) buzzed, but it kind of looks like you guys are a lot farther from the shore than you remembered being this morning....

-benji sits up beside you, but before you can ask for his opinion, he's clambering to the edge of the dock to yak over the side

-perfect.

-alex is up next, blinking hard as he adjusts to being upright

"... What the fuck?"

"That's what I'm saying."

"Guys?"

-you and alex turn to look at where Benji sits near the edge, looking at the two of you with wide eyes before holding up a thick mooring rope, covered in algae

-schlatt is abruptly woken up by a panicked shout of

"FUCK!"

"Wha' happened? Wuh?" Harper grumbles, and you would laugh at her hair wildly sticking in a thousand different directions if it weren't for the situation at hand

"It's lookin' like we were unmoored." Schlatt fills her in.

Harper hums, not really listening. "Oh, cool." she supplies helpfully, before flopping back on the dock.

-schlatt remains seated as you and Alex stand on the edge, both of you trying to put your single combined brain cell to use

"Wait, so where are we?"

"No fucking clue."

"Right, right. Perfect."

-a beat of silence passes

-"So what do we do?"

-you sigh, looking to the paddle board, which was luckily dragged up onto the dock at some point,

"What else can we do?"

-have you ever tried to fit five fully grown adults onto a single paddle board?

-it doesn't work very well.

-with the weight of five adults, the poor thing is hardly keeping all of you afloat

-and along with the fact that the water has grown dark and cold without the warmth of the sun

-and that all of you were struggling with the combination of a lingering buzz and a day-drinking induced hangover

-the three mile paddle back was NOT fun

"SOMETHING TOUCHED MY FOOT!"

"STOP FUCKING MOVING!!"

"It's over, it's so over."

-Alex's panic about the creatures in the water leads to the board flipping over, sending all of you back into the water

-and all five of you trying to get back on at the same time didn't go as well as one would think

-it end up taking an hour and a half and some change to make it back to the shore by the house

-the five of you needing to spend a solid ten minutes laying in the sand to recoup before walking back up to the house, where the rest of the family was surrounding a bonfire

-there was a chorus of laughter when they watched the five of you emerge,

"You guys made it!"

"We were wondering when you were gonna notice how far you guys got."

"How was it?"

"I need a goddamn cigarette." you grumbled as you stalked past

"DON'T YOU DARE!" your mother calls after you

-the five of you struggle to climb the stairs, flopping on your beds, bathing suits and all

-taking turns using the one shower in the house

-you and jay are the last two left, so of course you can't say no when he convinces you to hop in with him, under the guise of "saving water"

-and it would have been hot and sexy

-if those FUCKERS had left either of you any hot water

-you and schlatt yelp when the water hits you, both rushing to soap yourselves up and rinse off, just to get it over with

-the two of you return to the room where your roommates are settled into their respective sleeping spots

-all mockingly wolf whistling when you two walk in together,

"How was your shower?" Harper asked, wiggling her eyebrows

"Probably not great," Benji answered for the two of you, "We were already out of hot water by the time I got in."

"Yeah, I'd be surprised if they were able to get anything done with how cold that fuckin water is." Alex laughed

-you roll your eyes and throw yourself on the air mattress, schlatt following suit

-you yelp as he does so, the force of him hitting the air mattress sending you popping off onto the floor

-it goes silent for a moment before you let out a weak groan

-and the rest of the room breaks out into laughter

-you grumble and pull yourself back into bed, allowing schlatt to drag you towards him to press a few apologetic kisses to the crown of your head

-and as exhausting as today has been,

-he's more than happy to sit up until the wee hours of the morning, deliriously giggling and gossiping with your cousins as you all fill him in on all of the ongoing family drama

-he's eventually lulled off to sleep by the low hum of your voice

-body heavy with fatigue, reaching a point where he was no longer able to keep his eyes open

-a little later on, the conversation dies out, and you tuck yourself to his chest

- falling asleep to the sound of the crickets and the peepers outside, and the quiet snoring of your boyfriend, eager for what the rest of the weekend will bring

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #jschlatt x you #schlatt x reader #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #jschlatt fanfic #schlatt fanfic

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headspace-hotel · 2 years

Note

so, in regards to your recent posts on kane-tucky and usa food industry, do you / how do you keep active hope and not slip in into apathy and "looking out for my own" get out of dodge mentality? im having a hard time articulating this, but what makes you not curl up into a shaking mess in anger resentment and a deep desire for change that likely, if ever, wont happen in our lifetime.... any advice is appreciated

The short answer is "getting out and doing stuff in the real world, educating, volunteering, whatever is within your ability"

I will add that "looking out for your own" is not...bad. Like I don't know precisely what you mean by this phrase, but it's actually very important to come to terms with the fact that your impact is strongest where your feet touch the ground, and you have a responsibility and relationship to the people immediately around you, the place immediately around you.

This has not been a popular opinion of mine in the past, but...you can't and shouldn't care about literally everything on the planet. There is of course huge global disparity with access to resources and aid networks, and the largest communities we belong to are: all of Earth and the whole human species.

However: your level of agency is so low with issues that are happening on the other side of the world from you, compared with issues that are happening in your home town. And we're seeing people just get completely burned out from compassion fatigue without ever doing shit because the global responsibility is pushed on us and the local responsibility is not.

I hated my hometown for a decade. In high school I wanted so badly to leave. It's one of those desolate-feeling towns that's developed enough for a shopping center and big chain retailers but not enough to have a sense of community or a single bookstore. I've never been able to place myself precisely along the urban-rural spectrum because I feel isolated from even isolation: there's nowhere to go that doesn't feel razed by human development, where you can't hear the noise of traffic on roads, but it's all cattle pastures, sprawling storage facilities, auto parts stores, big, empty churches. One wrong turn will put you in a dark valley where there are rotting, derelict trailers on cinder blocks hidden back in the woods, and this place has that same feeling of "nowhere to go."

And I felt paralyzed by everything bad happening around the world and the fact that I was just one person, and I had gotten the horrible impression that the only thing I could do about anything was vote and donate money to links I saw online. The worst lie the internet taught me was that in saving the world, nothing matters except Power, Money, and an unclear third category that involves throwing bricks at cops.

But I touched grass. And the weeds taught me something. Do you see the parking lots, the harsh pavement and gravel and brick? I saw. I was surrounded by this landscape of brutal, totalitarian surfaces, impermeable concrete locking the soil away. But in the cracks in the surfaces, dandelions, purslane, and spurge were thriving.

I observed that the spurge stretched out like a shaggy rug and padded the concrete surfaces. The old leaves of the dandelions, as they withered, caught bits of dirt as it flowed into drainage ditches after rains. Soil was forming, and the sprawling structure of the early weeds seemed specially adapted for the task. In older cracks, more plants moved in; I found a wild ruellia blooming in a paved road, an evening primrose. And in some places, seedling trees.

Have you seen what happens when a sidewalk is left unmaintained for years? It disappears. The roots slowly buckle and break it into pieces, and it vanishes beneath lush leaves and moss. A tree growing in a crack in concrete will slowly pry the slab apart.

This is how my IRL rewilding project got started—just pulling plants from the pavement cracks, raising them in pots. I was surprised and awed at the resilience of the plants. I found little trees in concrete with at least two years' growth on them, that had survived being mowed down multiple times.

The weeds changed my viewpoint on the world forever. Up until that point, certain facts about power and politics and money had seemed like law, but I'd suddenly seen that there was a deeper magic.

The dandelions' survival made it possible for others to survive, which in turn made even more life flourish. They could not demolish and remove the concrete and pavement, but they could overcome it by refusing to be destroyed, because the power to take care of each other is in their nature.

People have made fun of me for telling others to go plant a tree. I think culturally we have this ingrained dismissal of things like that due to the twee, cutesy associations of "tree hugging" environmentalists, except in this instance it's because planting a tree is pointless in light of something something systemic issues, not because climate change isn't real, or...whatever reason people have for finding environmentalists cringe. (That is kinda sus now that I think about it.)

And I'm not saying planting a tree will fix climate change. I'm saying that something in my brain had broken and planting a tree unbroke it.

Go outside. Touch grass. Do the work in the immediate community you belong to, in the place you are in, where you have the best and most impact. We have the power to take care of each other, and that power grows stronger the more we are cared for.

The internet is a good place to share information, but that's fucking it. The real stuff, the stuff you can touch with your hands, the stuff that will heal despair, is out there in the real, touchable world. You need to see and feel what you are doing. Don't just give help—accept it. The power to take care of each other is in our nature, and by nature we can give more when we thrive as a result of others' care.

I hope this helps.

#plants #gardening #dandelions #rewilding #plantarchy

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edenalieth · 10 months

Text

Tricked pt.2

Pairing: pixy!hyunjin x afab! reader — read part.1

Genre: faery!au, based on « the cruel prince » universe, smut, slight angst

Warnings: he’s still short tempered his dad is too, unprotected sex (they're fairies, they struggle to have kids and are immortals, you're not), oral m!receiving, fingering f!receiving, orgasm denial, bit rough/jealousy, y'all are a bit tipsy

Summary: At first, he thought he was hallucinating but he could recognize your delicate gestures, the plump of your lips, your hand engulfed by the stranger’s one and the way his free hand was sneakily brushing over your butt. Who was this asshole ? Rage setting his blood on fire, he couldn’t stop staring at you, making him stumble over his partner's feet. He apologized to the lady he was dancing with and headed towards you. Little did he know that you were waiting for this reaction.

Words: 4.7K

A.N: hi, it's cami! im back with the second part of this faery au. it's actually a first for me to write a sequel, i recently read the stolen heir so it helped going back into this universe haha. sorry for the eventual mistakes, i hope you will like it ♡ — 231206

His shirt was barely buttoned up, his hair untied and soaked after swimming with you on the lake and he unconsciously hummed a song on his way back to the manor. He felt delighted by the time you had spent together. Of course, he wasn’t forgiving you for the way you had played with his feelings, the way you made a fool out of him but he would let you go with it, for now. And, after all, it was your secret. Just like the place where you had sealed your passion to. He shivered thinking about how your hands touched him, how your soft lips crashed on his. He let his fingers brush against his lips, his steps guiding him towards the white rocky structure he called his dwelling.

When the heavy wooden door opened at his arrival he heard his name being announced by the guards and some servants rushing towards him.

« My lord, what happened to your clothes ? Please, you should wear some shoes and get dressed properly. » urged an old woman called Mona. She used to be his nanny and was always making sure things were perfect for him. Since he grew up, he was seeing her less and less as she was busy directing other attendants. However, she always showed up during important times. Today was no exception.

Hyunjin raised a brow looking at the fae. He checked his white shirt. There was some green stains here and there because of your little fight. His feet were dirty after walking in the woods. Fine but what now ? Were the guests still here ? Even so, he didn’t care. The high society had seen him in a far worst shape than just being underdressed. And, after all, even a cruel and perverted man like Cardan had been able to access the throne. People would not be shocked for so little.

The woman clapped twice and domestic servants swarmed over him, dusting his shoulders and feet, handing him a clean doublet and boots. He rejected them, annoyed by all this fuss. « Could you at least tell me why I should do this ? I would like to retire to my apartments. » the black haired pixy grumbled, his tone iron cold, looking at them with no mercy. The old fae sighed, not impressed by his temper. « Your father is waiting for you in his office. »

His shoulders got tensed and he clenched his fists, the muscle of his jaw suddenly prominent. He pulled the clothes off the hands of a brownie, while an other one was helping him to put his boots on. Once ready, he headed towards the office.

As usual, his steps were echoing on the empty corridors. In the fading daylight, the last rays of sunshine were illuminating the walls of different shades of blue, making the shadows dance. He stopped at the doorframe, took a deep breath and knocked.

« Come. » his father’s low voice seemed calm, too calm.

Hyunjin entered the room. He bowed and said « Father. Mona told me you wanted to see me. »

The place wasn’t really big and quite off-centered from the crowded rooms of the manor. Mountains of books were surrounding the huge oak desk, skillfully engraved with pixies and ivy. The young man was about to sit on one of the armchair facing it but his father stopped him, raising his hand as a gesture for him to wait. « No need, I won’t be too long. »

Hyunjin had difficulties to stay focused and he was trying with all his might to not let his wings buzz. His father was writing on some papers, not even bothering to look at his son. When he finished, he sealed it with blue wax, stamping the coat of arms of their family using his signet ring. Hyunjin had a similar one on his left index. « Today was your last tantrum. » his parent stated.

The boy scoffed, tapping his feet on the floor. « A tantrum ? Maybe it would not have happened if this incompetent » and he insisted on that word, gritting his teeth « was doing his job properly. He humiliated me in front of the guests. »

His dad stood up, overlooking his son. « No! You did that yourself and a multiple times! » he seethed. Hyunjin could feel his body getting hot from all the rage he was holding back. Controlling his wings was now a wasted effort and it didn’t go unnoticed. The older man looked at him with disdain. « Look at you. You’re dressed like a peasant and can’t even discipline your emotions. You almost hurt a domestic today, you put on a show during our dinner with the duke and your reputation is well known in Insmire. » he paused, analyzing Hyunjin’s reaction to the statement. He continued. « Get ahold of yourself or I will have to interfere myself. » he threatened. The pixy was fulminating. « I dare you to try. » he spit, his body few inches from his father’s. Not getting the time to react, he felt a loud pain on his cheekbone. His mind went blank, something warm dripping along his face.

His dad pulled out a tissue from his pocket and cleaned his ring. « A ball is going to be held in four days. This is your chance to show the true values of the Hwang family. Understood ? » Hyunjin didn’t answer. « I said, understood ? ».

« Yes, father. »

When Hyunjin came back to his room, he had the urge to break everything around him. He checked himself on the full length mirror, his cheek was red, with some hints of purple and dry blood on the cut. Despite his anger, he could tell this argument made him come back to his senses. He deserved to be respected and feared but he also needed to behave a bit more to reach that goal. Not to be the capricious heir and to be able to surpass his dad. First, he would try to control his emotions. Second, he would avoid people making it harder for him to reach his first goal and having a bad influence on him, such as you. He could tell his heart had soften the second he took interest in you. It started when you arrived at the court and exploded after your afternoon together. He would not meet you the next day, breaking his promise. Nor the other. He didn’t need a weakness. He didn’t need to like you.

Servants were helping him to get ready. He was wearing an all white outfit. The tip of his boots was covered of dark silver and Mona attached a brooch made of sapphires as dark as the night sky. His cloak, also white, was covered of tiny diamonds looking like the morning dew. His former nanny handed him a mask made of tulle. It wasn’t totally covering his face, just enough to hide his bruise and eyes. He was playing with the ring on his index, adorned with his coat of arms. It represented several pair of pixy wings, intertwined with ivy forming a H. Hyunjin often played with it to relax or, at least, try to. He perfectly knew that you would be here tonight. It would probably be difficult to ignore you, he was scared of your reaction. However, it was a masked ball and maybe you would not recognize him in the crowd. He hoped so.

Once ready, a knight came to escort him and his family to the castle where the ball was taking place. The great hall was beautifully decorated. Fresh flowers were dripping from the ceiling expertly mixing with the high chandeliers where small fireflies were trapped, diffusing a dim light. The tables were covered with food and drinks going from grilled fish accompanied with a lemony sauce, fae fruits and exotic ones, some mortal dishes and different types of wine.

A small orchestra was playing and a lot of people were dancing dressed with their prettiest gowns or totally naked. Spotting some acquaintances, he followed his family, greetings several people. Trolls, mermaids, elves. He had to go through this if he wanted to get some freedom from his father’s constant monitoring. Which, after what felt like hours, he got. His mother was busy gossiping with court ladies and his father needed to discuss some serious topic with a duke. Hyunjin wasted no time and decided to join some of his friends he had noticed earlier and took a glass of green wine. The alcohol going down his throat burnt him but the taste of it was incredible.

« Look who is joining us! What have you been up to ? You didn’t come to Xylia’s party this week. » immediately questioned a young sidhe named Jisung. Him and Hyunjin used to hate each other until the pixy helped him out of a really bad situation. Said situation implying his friend having an affair with a married woman.

« I’ve been on thin ice with my father’s patience lately… Staying at the manor was my best option. »

Jisung pouted not truly convinced and took a bite on a fae fruit, some of its golden dust slightly covering his mouth. « Better make up for last time then » he mischievously replied with a smirk, pouring another glass of wine to Hyunjin. The latest smiled and let himself go a little while said Xylia, a nymph who had been interested on the black haired man, came up to sit on his lap.

« Hwang Hyunjin is finally honoring us of his presence! » she purred, sliding her arms around his shoulders. « Missed me ? » he arrogantly said. « Of course ». She chuckled, revealing pointy teeth, then proceeded to come closer to sensually bite his neck. Jisung laughed and looked at them avidly. It wasn’t the first time he was seeing them acting like this but it surely aroused him. Hyunjin used to love it, playing with Xylia, flirting with indecency, teasing his friend. He thought that giving in to his old demons would help him get you out of his mind but everything seemed bland. The nymph strong flowery scent was overwhelming, his mouth felt furred because of the wine and the sidhe’s reaction annoyed him.

« Stop… » his voice was barely audible. The girl kept on going, sliding her hands along his torso. « I said stop. » he growled firmly, trapping the nymph’s wrist in his hand. His gaze was icy, giving cold sweat to Xylia. « What’s wrong with you ? » she was visibly offended. The pixy man rolled his eyes « I’m bored staying in your company ». He stood up and went towards the dancing crowd. He heard Jisung trying to convince him to stay and could feel the nymph’s angry eyes boring holes into his back. He didn’t care, now that the alcohol was doing its job he could only think about one thing: finding you.

How came you didn’t cross his path yet ? Yes, all those masks and textile fluttering all around him were making him dizzy and harder for him to notice you. However, it couldn’t be impossible, right ? Unless you weren’t invited… Unthinkable. Your family was freshly part of the high society, they needed to shine among it to get the recognition from their pairs. Hyunjin let himself be drawn into a waltz, changing partners and spiraling according to his thoughts. Until his eyes finally landed on you. At first, he thought he was hallucinating but he could recognize your delicate gestures, the plump of your lips, your hand engulfed by the stranger’s one and the way his free hand was sneakily brushing over your butt. Who was this asshole ?

Rage setting his blood on fire, he couldn’t stop staring at you, making him stumble over his partner's feet. He apologized to the lady he was dancing with and headed towards you. Little did he know that you were waiting for this reaction.

You had noticed him rather quickly. How could you do otherwise, anyway ? He was shining like the purest gem among the nobles and courtiers. The tulle mask was doing nothing, you could tell right away that it was him by the way he elegantly walked, his dark blue wings, his pearl earring he seemed to never take off from his pointy ears. The second you saw him in the crowd, you almost ran to him, desperate to know why he never came back to the lake. However, you needed to find the right time for it because you weren’t going to be nice and you couldn’t tarnish your family's reputation. He seemed like a different person when it was only the both of you. You thought he had a soft spot for you. What an idiot you had been. You felt betrayed. Maybe it was his revenge for the little play you had pulled on him and it felt like getting a taste of your own medicine. Bitter.

He had probably used you and would laugh about it with his friends. This feeling increased the moment you saw that beautiful creature devouring his neck and touching him lustfully. You clenched your fists at the sight of it and regretted not cutting his throat when you had the occasion. In the end, he was like any other fae, directed by his impulses. You went to the closest table and grabbed a drink. You coughed a little because of the high amount of alcohol. And this is how you joined the dancers, well decided not to cry over that mouth-of-nectar. He wanted to play that game ? Oh, you wouldn’t loose and seeing him almost crawling in your direction gave you some smugness.

« Y/N. » he called out, trying to get your attention as you ignored him thoroughly. People were on his way and he started to push them away brutally — getting death glares — as you danced away from him, still in your lure’s arms. Even if his gaze was blurred by the light fabric covering it, you could tell the same anger was burning inside his eyes, the same one you had witnessed when he discovered the trickery you had played on him. Finally reaching the both of you, the pixy stopped, trying to keep his composure. « May I ? » he asked the man, showing his palm. « Can’t you see I’m… » your partner was about to protest until he saw who he was talking to. Hyunjin was giving him a beautiful grin but not a single cell of his body seemed welcoming. « Lord Hwang I… My apologies, the lady is yours. » he sheepishly said. The pixy looked at him leaving and his smile instantly faded once the man was out of sight. You rolled your eyes and tried to escape but he strongly grabbed your waist and pulled you close to him.

« You suddenly remember me, Hwang Hyunjin ? » you scoffed, annoyed to not be able to detach your eyes from his. He intertwined his fingers with yours, making you twirl. You were stunning in that dress. It was visibly made of a pearly shaded silk where actual pearls delicately dangled on your chest and arms, like rain drops. A similar mask was adorning your face. It gave you a strong aura and suited the hint of purple in your eyes. « Why are you doing this to me, half-blood ? » he whispered in your ear. Feeling his breath against your face gave you goosebumps.

« D-doing what ? »

Damn it! You couldn’t help but stuttered and he smirked.

« Playing with my feelings all the time. » he replied. Oh wow! So, it was your fault.

« I’m the one playing ? You seemed to have a good time with that freshwater slut earlier. » you spat, unable to restrain your venom. He recoiled, surprised.

« Are you talking about Xylia ? I actually pushed her away because I wanted her to be you. » he grumbled. You felt his nails digging into the tenderness of your waist, giving you a small ache. « And you think I’m going to believe you after you broke your promise. I bet you told all your friends how you made a fool out of me, letting me think I had won. »

Your words annoyed him and he frowned. This is what you thought and why you were doing all of this, trying to make him jealous and it worked. His wings started to tickle and his mouth was reduced to a thin line.

« You truly think I’m a monster when you’re the one who started all of this. » he stated calmly. Surprised, you looked at him but you couldn’t say he was wrong…

« What do you want from me Y/N ? »

His intense gaze made you look away and you were glad the mask was hiding your cheekbones which were probably red. You weren’t going to say how much his loss hurt you, how addicted you had become after only one day together. You had too much ego for that. Gulping, you came closer to his ear and murmured, « Prove me I’m wrong, prove that you sincerely desire me. »

He put a halt to your dance, weighing the pros and cons of your demand. Accepting would go against his resolutions, yet, it couldn’t let you insult him without giving you a lesson. « Your wish is my command. » he replied with a sly smile.

Cutting through the crowd, he guided you upstairs. You weren’t surprised to see some wasted people laying on the floor or hearing laughs coming from other rooms. What surprised you is how easily he found the entry of a boudoir room. Must not have been his first time coming here which made your body get tensed.

It was small and pretty. The furnitures were scanty. An alcove full of fluffy pillows and beautifully crafted blankets overhung by a large window offering a night view of the garden. A meridian couch and a coffee table, few decorations. You removed your mask, wanting to face him correctly. You looked even more gorgeous and he could feel his body warming up. He carefully locked the door and walked towards you, trapping you against the edge of the alcove and himself. The sudden proximity made your core ache. You wanted to touch him badly but he was the one who had to prove something. After all, he accepted the challenge.

« Well. Tell me Hyunjin, are we going to stay like that or are you actually going to do something ? » you teased. He scoffed, letting his hand run along your thigh and going up your breast to grasp the dangling pearls. He played with it, looking at the light reflecting on it. Your breathe was faint, anticipating. Not bothering to lift his head up, he spoke

« I will make you mine, Y/N. You will be my thing, my doll and you will never dare to flirt with some idiots ever again. » You frowned. His thing ? You would never let that happen.

« You’re all blabbering but you dont act much and, most importantly, you don’t own me. »

What you thought would be a nice time was turning into an upsetting one. This was ridiculous and, despite your aroused state, you needed to leave. Obviously, the young pixy didn’t let you go, pulling hard on the pearls and making the threads holding them break as they fell on the ground.

« Really ? »

You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking because of the tulle and you wanted him to get rid of it. Before you could complain about it, he grabbed your butt and made you sit on the alcove. Adroitly, he left your dress up so that your bottom was fully exposed. « I’m sure of… » you couldn’t finish your sentence, feeling his thin fingers sliding down your folds. You gripped his shoulders and moaned on his neck. He removed his hand, looking at your glimmering arousal and said with a husky voice « Seems like your pussy is telling me otherwise. »

You felt tears forming in your eyes. Why your body had to betray you like this ? You bit your lip, sulking. However, Hyunjin didn’t plan to give you any rest.

« You wanted to know how much I desire you, uh ? » he growled, leaving incandescent kisses on your jaw and neck. You hummed, too concentrated on his touch.

« Speak. » he ordered.

« Yes. »

A smirk appeared on his face as he closed the gap between the two of you. You sighed in relief, finally feeling his lips on yours, it tasted like green wine. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your core meeting the fabric of his pants where you could feel is hard-on. He grabbed the back of your hair, making your head fall backward. He missed your scent, the softness of your skin and he absolutely wanted to ruin you.

You tried to find some friction but he was holding you back strongly. The tip of his nose brushed against the crook of your neck when you felt his warm and wet tongue tracing lines on it. « Hyunjin, please… »

As an answer, he harshly sucked on your skin. The pain made a small cry escape your mouth. Fuck. He was bolder than the first time, getting comfortable around you. You heard a pop when he let your sensitive take some rest.

« Satisfied ? » he asked. Oh, he had to be joking right now.

« Not at all. » you answered, sulking. His laugh revealed his teeth, making him low-key predatory.

« Always greedy. » he sighed. His fingers caressed the pulsing point of your neck, travelling down to the valley of your breast to finally reach where you needed him the most. He cupped your sex, making you mewl. « This belongs to me. »

You wanted to protest but the pressure he was applying on your clit was driving you crazy, his thumb forming small eight figures on it.

« Say it. » You resisted, shutting your eyes and digging your nails into his shoulders. Loosing his patience, he inserted a first digit inside you. You moaned his name loudly and Hyunjin had to take deep breaths not to fuck you raw.

« I-it’s yours. » you panted.

He dipped another finger inside your dripping pussy. « Again. »

« It’s yours, I’m yours. » you chocked when you felt his digits curling.

« See. It wasn’t that difficult to admit it. » he mocked, his lips crashing against yours. You bit on his lower lip, making him grunt, soon met by an iron taste. The black haired man lightly jumped, his wings quivering.

« Behave. » he whispered. « I’m sorry… I got carried away. » you immediately apologized, afraid that he would stop. Unfortunately, what you feared inevitably happened. After few more pumps, he could notice how lightheaded you were, how your walls were getting tighter. However, he didn’t want you to come around his fingers. You whined.

« Keep going, please. I was so close. »

« I know. » he sighed. « But it’s my turn now. » He stepped back a little, putting you back on your feet as he was taking your place and unzipping his pants. He looked sinfully handsome. Totally absorbed by the view, you didn’t notice how he made you kneel down before him. His length was right in front of your eyes, precum glittering on its top. You licked your lips. « Suck on it. »

Another order you gladly complied to. Him towering you like this, in all his glory, was another type of turn on. You delicately seized his dick before giving him some kitten licks. He let out a loud moan, his hands gripping the edge of the alcove, his knuckles turning white.

« Stop playing. » he huffed. Searching for his gaze, you seductively put his member into your mouth, your lips perfectly fitting around it. Damn it. He would never be able to avoid you after seeing you like that. The sensation of your tongue twirling around his shaft, the delicious pressure every time you sucked on him. Gripping your hair he gave you light thrusts, until he couldn't stop his increasing pace, the tip of dick repeatedly hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. Tears formed on the corner of your eyes and your jaw started to ache so you had to make him stop. Both out-of-breath, he helped you to stand up, your legs being sore from the kneeling position.

« You did amazing, sugar. But don't you think it would be too bad for me not to come inside you ? » he mused, cupping your chin.

« I want you all. » you whined, already lifting your gown up. It made him chuckle, his eyes turning into crescent moons. Wanting to be more comfortable, he finally removed his cloak and mask. You never thought it would make such a big difference but everything seemed more intense now. You could perfectly admire his features, his dark eyes, the mole under his left one. Something was new, though. You carefully approached your hand from the bruise on his face. You frowned and asked « What happened ? ».

He had totally forgotten about it. He put your hand down and made you turn around. « Nothing much, now bend over. » You started to ask more questions but got easily distracted when he unlaced your dress, letting it slip on your naked body. You felt the palm of his left hand applying pressure on your bare back so that your torso was totally flat against the pillows and blankets of the alcove. He cupped your butt cheeks, slightly spreading them to look at your dripping core. You couldn't see what he was doing, only hearing some wet sounds. Hyunjin pumped himself hastily and, without any warning, penetrated you. You being soaking wet helped him a little but you were so tight that it was difficult for him to put his whole length inside. Gripping your waist firmly, he started with light thrusts, growling with any frictions.

The stretch was a bit painful at first, still, you quickly got accustomed to it, your butt trying to meet his hips and loving how he manhandled you. Seeing you so desperate to feel his dick made him salivate. He could see the side of your face as you bit on your lips, trying to muffle your noisy whimpers. You looked so fucked up and gorgeous at the same time. Inch by inch, he finally buried the totality of his shaft inside you, immediately hitting your sweet spot. « Fuck... Y/N... » one thrust, « I told you... » two... « You are meant to be mine. » His pace was increasing as you nodded, unable to create a proper sentence, your hips continuously hitting against the wooden edge of the alcove. The mixed pain and pleasure made you press your legs together, which didn't go unnoticed. Growling louder, Hyunjin bent over you to get a new angle, his thrusts becoming sloppy and slower. You felt one of his hand sliding down your heat to work on your clit.

« Hyunjin... » you mewl on his touch.

Surrounded by your scent and moans, he wasn't sure if he would be able to handle it much longer, going feral as he fed your eager cunt.

« You feel so good. Even better than last time » he praised, probably because this time he was the one dominating. This statement sent electricity down your spine, your walls clenching dangerously.

« Hyunie, I'm really close... » you cried, your voice barely above a whisper. « Hold on for me, half-blood. » the pixy commanded. You simply nodded and grabbed the blankets under you. You couldn't think straight anymore. You were fighting against the threatening wave of pleasure increasing with each powerful thrust, each change of pace. He was doing you good, too good for your own sanity. You could feel his weight on top of you, his arms caging your torso, leaving faint bruises. Wet sounds were echoing in the small room, sounds of your sweaty bodies rubbing against each other, sounds of sinful sex. His breath was becoming hectic and heavier, your walls so warm and narrow that he felt sucked in.

« Fuck ! » shaking over you, he relieved his seeds inside you, coating your core white. The euphoric wave wouldn't stop as he kept feeding his high, throbbing inside you and spiraling into delicious bliss. Unable to hold back anymore, you were on the very edge of your climax when you felt him pulling out. Stunned, you were left clenching around nothing, your core aching.

« W-what ? » you asked, confused. You fell on the floor, too weak to stand up properly. Hyunjin was already dressing himself up, styling his hair and tying his cloak. Once ready, he took his mask and crouched down to meet your eyes. A smirk was adorning his face.

« Consider this a payback for last time. » he said with his husky voice, preparing to get up « Oh! Before I leave, don't forget that I better not catch you in the arms of someone else than me. » he was towering you, looking down on you and your submissive position. He caressed your cheeks as anger was suddenly knocking your brain, your brows furrowed and eyes darkening. Without a word he turned around and left the room. He put his mask back on, satisfied as he heard his steps and your raging scream echoing on the corridor.

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