#I’ve come to love my deep voice it baffles others and they never know what to call me it really helps the whole ‘what am I’ presentation

[lionblaze03-2]

sometimes I think about writing and singing music not because I’m an incredible singer but because no one has my fucking voice, especially in popular music, and its disheartening to be born a girl, told you’ll only get girl roles or try to voice match other girls, or ‘sing with the girls’ and then only be able to match male voices because you’re a fuckin tenor and not anything higher. I can’t think of any girl Broadway roles I can hit all the notes on. Most songs I love I have to pitch down for myself or use falsetto for singing along to. It bothers me a lot less now because I’m an adult who’s more secure in myself but as a teen in kids musical theatre it FUCKED with me, BAD style. And I know for a fact that even now when I hear people with a voice like mine singing I get excited and immediately invested in their work because they’re like ME, finally, for once. A brother in this world of being afab and having the voice of a recently pubescent boy forever. Maybe I should be that brother too.

[ladyloveandjustice]

The Black Dress

Another Marcille x Falin fic, but this one is the longest by far. It's post-series and references post-series material that hasn't been officially translated (the Falin and Shuro thing, if you know you know). With this, I've finished all my fic ideas for now! It was fun!

The tears wouldn’t stop coming.

Marcille shoved her books aside so she wouldn’t ruin them with tear stains. She hunched over her desk, head in her hands.

She had to pull it together. Falin was going to leave any minute. She had to be supportive. The last thing she wanted was do was hold Falin back. No matter how much it hurt, she had to let her go.

She wiped her nose noisily and took some deep breaths. It’s okay, she said she’d come back. Collect yourself. You can do this.

There was a loud knock on her bedroom door. “Marcille?” Falin called.

No! I’m not ready! But before Marcille could get the worlds out, Falin had opened the door.

Marcille bent her head, wiping at her eyes desperately, not even caring that she was staining her sleeves. “I-I just need a few minutes, I want to see you off with a smile—”

“It’s fine if you’re crying. I don’t want you to hide,” Falin said gently, closing the door behind her.

Marcille nodded, hiccuping, her eyes burning.

 Falin patted Marcille’s shoulder, then sat on her bed, looking at her quizzically. “You’ve never cared about crying in front of me before. What’s going on?”

“I just don’t want to hold you back…”

Anything I like is influenced by my brother and Marcille…” The words echoed painfully in her head.

“Falin, I’m sorry that I’ve…I’ve suffocated you. I know I’ve been so controlling. I never wanted to chain you down and I really support you going on your journey, so--!”

“What are you…?” Falin’s eyes widened. “Oh, you were eavesdropping on me and Shuro”.

“Everyone else was too!” Marcille said hastily but Falin just shook her head.

“Marcille, you don’t suffocate me. It’s just that when I admire someone, I let myself get wrapped up. I always just wanted to make the people I love happy…but that I never really took any time to figure out who I was and what I want. It’s not about you and Laios, it’s about me.”

Marcille gave her a watery smile. “You deserve it. You sacrifice so much for other people and I’m so glad you’re doing something for yourself for once. You don’t need to make me happy. You do that just by being you.”

Falin’s lips spread into a sweet smile that made Marcille want to melt.

But she couldn’t get sidetracked. She needed to say the next part.

“But I do know I’ve been overbearing, Falin. I always thought I knew best. And I--”

“Treated me like a child?”

Marcille flushed. Suddenly she couldn’t look Falin in the eye. She swiveled around in her chair so she didn’t have to face her. “I…I never thought of you as a child, Falin. Not really. I realize that now. I was just scared. I didn’t want to accept that you were going to die before me, that you were changing so fast, And most of all, I was scared of my feelings, and how they’d changed. I knew if I followed those feelings…it would hurt so much more when I lost you.”

Oh no, she was revealing way too much. She couldn't tell Falin how she felt when she was about to leave! She pressed her lips together to keep more traitorous words from escaping.

“Marcille…”

Marcille squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t tell from Falin’s voice how she felt. Was she disgusted? Horrified? Baffled? She braced herself, balling up her dress in her hands.

Then, out of nowhere, hot breath tickled her cheek.

“I know all that,” Falin whispered in her ear.

Marcille yelped, red as a tomato. She jerked away, exclaiming “Falin!”

Falin giggled. She was laughing a lot these days. She was so much more open and free lately. But what she was saying didn’t make sense.

“What do you mean, you knew?”

“Sometimes people are a mystery, but you’ve always been easy to figure out, Marcille. For me, anyway. But I didn’t want to pressure you about it. I didn’t want to make you to push me away.”

Marcille’s heart pounded in her ears. Was Falin saying what she thought she was saying? No, she couldn’t get her hopes up. Falin probably misunderstood what she meant by “feelings”

"But you seem less afraid of all that now. It was thanks to my brother and the others, right?”

“Yes,” Marcille muttered. “I can’t believe it turns out Laios is more emotionally mature than I am.”

“I could have told you that,” Falin said with a mischievous smile.

“Rub it in, why don’t you!”

“But I’m glad,” Falin said, her smile turning soft. “I’m glad my brother was braver than me. I always wanted to help you somehow, but I didn’t know how.”

“I don’t know if I would have listened to you if you’d tried,” Marcille sighed. “But now I’m trying to…accept what I can’t control. I’m working on being less possessive of you.”

“I noticed.” Falin said, the mischief back in her eyes. “I was shocked that you didn’t try to stop Shuro from confessing to me.”

“I bet 100 gold you’d turn him down,” Marcille said automatically, and then clapped her hand over her mouth.

“Now that’s the Marcille I know,” Falin laughed again. It was such a beautiful sound, like a bell chiming. Warmth bloomed inside Marcille. She looked down at her lap bashfully, letting her hair fall over her eyes.

But then she heard the laughter stop. When she looked up, Falin was studying her, looking gloomy.

  “What’s wrong?”

“Your hair,” Falin muttered.

What about it?” Marcille glanced at her mirror. It was pretty messy. She’d been so out of sorts she hadn’t been able to force herself to brush it much. She shrugged. “Since when you care so much about hair?” In school, Falin had let her hair get unkempt all the time, despite Marcille and the school’s lectures about how important it was for magic.

“You cared about it though. It was something you loved and it was a part of you.” Falin’s mouth tightened. Every part of you is important to me.”

“Falin…”

Falin grabbed the hairbrush from Marcille’s bedside table and patted the bed. “Come sit here.”

Marcille did, and Falin sat behind her and began to brush. She was gentle, going section by section, carefully working through each knot, never yanking. It was a world of difference from the way Falin dragged a brush through her own hair. When her whisper soft fingers brushed Marcille’s neck, Marcille’s whole body tingled.

“This reminds me of when I used to brush and play around with your hair. You always barely tolerated it, but I appreciated that you let…”

  She trailed off as Falin ran her fingers through her hair, checking that there were no knots. She hoped the back of her neck wasn’t red right now, but she knew it probably was.

She glanced back at Falin, and saw she was fishing some hair ties out of her pocket. “Face forward, please. I’m going to braid.”

“Since when do you know how to do that?” The one time Falin had braided her hair in school, it had been an absolute disaster.”

“Chilchuck taught me first. But then Kiki and Namari told me those were little kid braids. So I had Kiki teach me.” She began braiding. Marcille resisted the urge to squirm in happiness.

“That’s a lot of effort…why?”

“Because someone needs to help you. Hair is important to magic, like you said. I also taught Laios, he’ll do it while I’m gone.”

“He’s too busy for that!”

“He’ll do it while I’m gone,” Falin repeated calmly. “And if he has a meeting, one of the castle caretakers has agreed to help.”

“It’s just hair—"

“I don’t care,” Falin cut in. It was rare to hear anger in her voice, and it coming on so suddenly startled Marcille. “I hate that this was taken from you”.

They sat for a moment in silence, Marcille overwhelmed by all Falin had done for her. Falin continued braiding, crossing the strands of hair slowly and meticulously. Then…

“I wish I could have been there,” Falin muttered. “I wish I could have helped you.”

Marcille bit her lip. “There was nothing you could have done. I made my choice, and these are the consequences”.

“If I’d been there, I could have stopped you.”

Falin could be so stubborn when she wanted to be. Marcille sighed.

“Laios, Senshi and Chilchuck did stop me, though. And the reason you weren’t there was my fault. I turned you into a chimera!

“Didn’t you promise you’d stop beating yourself up about that? It was a decision you and my brother made together, right? And you saved my life.”

Marcille wanted to shake her head, but resisted. It still baffled her how easily Falin had forgiven her. Not just forgiven her—it was like what Marcille had done barely bothered her.

Falin tightened the ribbon around her hair. “There, that looks okay, right?” ‘

Marcille glanced at her bedroom. “It’s perfect.” She couldn’t really tell how good the braid was anymore, but if Falin had done it, it was perfect to her.

She didn’t want to get up again. Falin was so close to her, she could feel her body heat. So maybe they could keep arguing a little longer. “I wasn’t beating myself up, I was just stating a fact. And if that’s how it is, you need to stop regretting not being there! Neither of us can change the past.

Falin was silent for a few seconds. Then, she said, “You’re right.”

Ugh. She’d wanted Falin to fight her on that. Now there was no stalling. Falin was probably going to tell Marcille she had to get going any minute.

Instead, Falin did something unexpected. She leaned forward and embraced Marcille from behind. Her body pressed against her back. Marcille was sure she was going to die from ectasy They’d hugged so many times before this, but somehow this seemed different.

“There are some regrets I think I’ll have a hard time getting over, though,” Falin whispered. “Like not getting to see you in that black dress.”

Marcille squawked. “Who told you about that? I bet it was someone making fun of me again!”

“A little, probably,” Falin said, resting her chin on Marcille’s shoulder. “But I’m serious. I know I would have really liked seeing you in that dress. For a lot of reasons.”

“Are you…you’re not…” Marcille sputted. “What reasons?”

Falin couldn’t be saying what Marcille hoped she was saying. It would be too good to be true. But…

“Oh, I wasn’t making it clear? Sorry!” Out of the corner of her eye, Marcille could see that Falin’s entire face turning as rosy as her cheeks. “I’ll be clear. Marcille, I love you.” Falin paused for a beat. “Romantically, I mean. And I want to see you in the dress because I think you’re cute. Is…that clear? Or did I misunderstand your feelings?” A note of panic entered her voice. She loosened her arms around Marcille and pulled away

"You…you didn’t misunderstand,” Marcille said in a high-pitched squeak.

“Good!” Falin exhaled, limp with relief. “I thought I really messed up for a second there.”

Marcille’s hands were shaking, but she scooted around and clasped Falin’s hands. They met each other’s gaze and she felt like the sun was shining through Falin’s eyes, so brilliantly it hurt to look at, but at the same time couldn’t look away.

“It’s like a dream,” Marcille murmured. “This was the last thing I expected you to say today.”

“I know it’s strange timing. I just didn’t feel like I could leave before letting you know.” Falin bit her lip. “Though I guess that’s a little unfair. Maybe I should have waited until I got back.”

“No, no, no, you shouldn’t have waited, I’ve done enough waiting, I—” She couldn’t be still, the mixture of elation and shock and love was bursting out of her. She stood up, accidentally tugging on Falin’s hand and making her lurch forward. But Falin didn’t seem to mind. She leapt up too with a big smile on her face.

“But …are you sure about me?” Marcille babbled. “You might meet someone better than me while traveling. And you know, being on your own, you might realize you don’t need me, that I’ve stifled you, and seeing the world will change you and change your mind…”

Shut up! Shut up! She screamed at herself. But she couldn’t help it, her fears were pouring out her mouth in a torrent.

“Marcille,” Falin said, somehow both sweet and stern. Marcille snapped her mouth shut immediately. “I’m not going to find anyone better. That’s not possible. Yes, I’m changing a lot. I would have been so afraid to do anything like this before. I bet I’ll have all kind of experiences, see all sorts of things… but loving you, wanting to come back to you…that’s a part of me that will never change.”

Marcille threw herself in Falin’s arms. She hugged her fiercely, letting Falin’s warmth, her scent, her everything envelope her. Soft feathers tickled her face as she nuzzled into Falin’s chest.

“Do they bother you?” Falin nodded toward her feathers.

“No, they feel nice. I like them.” It felt weird to say that, when she was the one who’d forced them on her. “Do you still like them?”

“Of course! They’re so cool!” Falin’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’m so strong and fast now too! It almost feels like a tiny dragon’s keeping me company. I’ll never be lonely.”

“Only you would look at it that way,” Marcille chuckled. She was so full of love for this ridiculous woman. “But I’m glad you won’t feel lonely.”

She would be lonely, though.. She’d actually considered getting over her disgust for fairies and making one for Falin to bring, that way she could check in with Marcille.

But that would be overbearing. She needed to let Falin have time to herself. She was the calm, laid back Marcille now, after all.

“I asked Shuro to leave his bells with me, would you want to take the other one with you, just in case something happens, not that you have to, but we both thought it might be safer!” She said in a rush.

So much for laid back Marcille.

  “I’m not sure how well that would work,” Falin mused. “It’s not like you could just teleport there to help me, and honestly, I think I might lose it. But I appreciate that you and Shuro care.”

“I…I get it.”

Falin hugged her tighter. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got the dragon with me, remember? And I’ll write to you all the time, I promise.

“You better,” Marcille muttered into her feathers.

They stood there in silence for a minute, Marcille wishing they could just stay like this forever. She was a little jealous of the dragon right now. Maybe she’d even be willing to become a monster, if it meant she and Falin could be a part of each other

Falin’s touch suddenly turned timid. Her eyes flicked nervously to the side.

“There’s…” Falin’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “There’s… one more thing I want to do before I leave.”

Marcille cupped her hands around Falin’s cheeks. “Me too.”

Falin offered a shy smile and Marcille returned it.

And then, finally, they kissed.

It was clumsy, full of all the awkwardness of a first kiss, but it was also perfect. Years of yearning and heartache lifted as she drank Falin in. She was light as air now.

When they pulled apart, they both started laughing euphorically. Falin picked Marcille off the ground and spun her around while Marcille shrieked in joy.

Falin put her down, grinning. “I could kiss you forever.”

“Well, then, you better make sure to come back,” Marcille said, tucking a lock of Falin’s hair behind her ear.

“I will.” Falin raised Marcille’s hand and gently kissed her knuckles. Then she led her out of the bedroom by the hand.

"Laios hasn’t been waiting for us this whole time, has he?” Marcille asked.

“No, I told him I was planning to stay for lunch. I’m hungry, aren’t you?”

“Famished.”

When she saw Falin coming up the path, Marcille ran out the door and hurled herself into her arms. Falin was a little different now, her smile more easy, the muscles in her arm more developed, her fangs a little more pronounced…but she was still Falin. That hadn’t changed.

They kissed deeply. Falin dipped Marcille slightly as she did, and Marcille held her tightly.

“How was your trip?” Marcille asked breathlessly when they broke away.

“It was wonderful. I saw so many incredible things,” Falin said, setting Marcille back on her feet. “Including…” She reached into one of her bags and produced a black dress. It wasn’t exactly like the one Marcille had worn back then, but it was shockingly similar. The corset stitching, the puffy long sleeves, all of it was there

“Now I’ll finally get see you in this,” Falin said cheerfully. “Do you like it?

Marcille went beet red, steam practically coming out her ears. “You little…!” She swatted Falin lightly on the arm, “I cannot believe you …Oh, it is pretty cute though…No, I’m still mad! How did you even know what it looked like?”

Falin took Marcille’s hand. “I got a lot of help.”

“I will kill Laios,” she said as they walked toward the castle. There he was, waving at them from the door, no idea about his impending death. “Will you be staying here a while?”

“Of course I will. I missed you.” Falin said. “But I’m not finished traveling. Maybe you can come with me once in a while.

“I don’t know if I can leave my position for long. Laios needs my—”

“He can handle himself for a couple weeks,” Falin said, waving back at her brother. “He’s very capable.”

“The elves might still be watching…”

“We’ll say it’s a research expedition.”

“You’re not giving up on this, are you?”

“No. Falin pulled her close. “Now let’s go home.”

They walked arm in arm, ready for the future that was waiting.

---

And that's that! The previous Farcille fics I did didn't have the "real" Falin as a character, so it was nice to finally write her. She's a tricky one (her highest stat is mystery after all). She seems a lot more confident and willing to show her true feelings post-resurrection, so I leaned into that. Hopefully I did okay! And I was covering a LOT of ground in this one, so hopefully it all flowed all right.

[mewje4ns]

Moment of Impulse - Spencer Reid

You have decided it had to happen today. Or it would never happen it all. Just sucks you’d decided that at 10pm.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

masterlist

—————————

My cheeks were flushed as I stood outside Spencer’s door. I could feel my fingers tingle with anticipation. My dirtied up converse kick heel-toe-heel-toe as I wait anxiously for him to open the door. My sweaty hands pushed in my denim short pockets and my t-shirt tucked into that. I didn’t know why I decided it had to be done, and now but it did. I needed to confess.

I can hear Spencer’s feet walk towards the door before the lock unlocked and slowly revealed the sleepy boy wonder. “Y/n?” His voice was raspy and croaky from behind woken up, his hair a mess, but he still looked as beautiful as the day I met him.

“I’m sorry for coming here this late but if I didn’t-“ I cut myself off and rubbed my hand on my chin. “I need to tell you something.” Spencer nods and rubs his eyes, he widens the door for me to walk in.

Spencer sleepily drags his feet to his couch and sits down whilst I stand awkwardly at the edge of the carpet beneath his living room furniture. “What’s up?” He peeks down at his watch before turning and looking at me. “You are allowed to sit down, you know that right?” I nod and rub my swear hands on my shorts but don’t move to sit down.

“You are everything good that I’ve ever know.” A strong start, I haven’t stumbled over my words quite yet. “You are freaky smart and funny. You are the nicest person I’ve met and you never fail to make me feel better.” I shake my head and stare down the carpet. I couldn’t look at him as I spoke, I’d lose my confidence the second I looked at his face. “I’ve spent years comparing myself to the girls your brought around and never once did any of them give me the answer I was looking for.”

Spencer voice cut me off. “The answer you were looking for?” He was confused, baffled by my words. Confused on how could I compare myself to other girls? “What answer?”

“That I had a chance.” I finally look up at him as he leans over with his elbows on his knees and hands connected in between them. “That you could love me.” My voice was shakey this time. Spencer Reid is the only man to have ever made me weak in the knees, in the everything. “You are the first guy in my life to make me feel this way, and it’s so stupid. God this is so stupid. I’m sorry I’ll leave.” I turn around and march towards the door before I feel his hand grab my wrist causing my bracelets to dig into my wrist.

Spencer’s hand pulls me towards him before it digs it’s way into my hair and pulls me into a kiss. I urgent and heavy kiss. I panic, my hands find their way to his waist to desperately pull at his shirt and he holds me as close to him as possible. “Don’t- don’t go.” His voice is quiet as he whispers to me, his hands still pulling my head to stay forehead to forehead. “Please.”

I look up at the man in awe. His cheeks are flushed and his dark eyes dance across my face. He licks his lips and whispers a plea for me to stay again. “Please Y/n.” I nod and he releases a deep breath before kissing me again, this time with just as much urgency but the passion felt tangible. Like he had been waiting for this moment. “God you-” Spencer cuts himself off and dives back in to kiss me. One of his hands dance their way down my body to my waist which he uses it to pull me as close to him as he humanly could. Spencer finally pulls away and rests his forehead on mine.

“I’m sorry I came here so late. I know you have work tomorrow.” I watch him laugh and shake his head before his hands find their way to my neck as he rubs his thumbs in my jaw.

“I don’t care. Do it at three am and I still wouldn’t care.” His smile is so wide, wider than I had ever seen with any of the other girls I’ve seen him with. “I love you.” My worlds stops spinning, whilst the room simultaneously starts to. His straight white teeth are on display and the faint smell of his laundry detergent and body wash fill my nose. The man I have loved for as long as I have known him, loves me.

“Really?” My voice is a quiet whisper as if I’m worried about him coming out and laughing at me with a ‘gotcha’ moment but all he does his nod and stare into my eyes. “You lil shit. I was supposed to say it first.” I pinch his waist and smile as he flinched away.

“It was easy to figure out where you were heading with that whole rant of yours.” I shake my head and smile. “God, I love you.” I giggle like a school girl and wrap my arms around him in a hug. “Stay the night?” I laugh and nod at the man who raps his arms around me.

“Yeah. I’ll stay.”

“Good.”

[phantomlxver]

König x f!reader

You where the bad apple, the black sheep of the military. That bad attitude of yours and your actions you caused labeled you nothing but trouble …

Also apologies with the translation, I’m using apple translator for German since I don’t know German!! Sorry in advance!! P.S I’ve lost in touch with writing so sorry if it isn’t up to standards as well.

No one appreciated the work you’ve done for them no matter how hard you tried even upon to their request, you never met them

You where good at what you do hand to hand combat and weaponry, but the one thing you lacked was communicating and teamwork

You mostly worked alone albeit upon the higher ups request ( more like threats ) you join König’s group

You gave people nasty looks and backtalk that no one bothers to talk to you and give you nasty comments

All except König… that man doesn’t see what others see about you; he does just that deep down he knows that something isn’t right. Must be a reason for that attitude.

He one day approached you ( with a half confidence ) asking your name, “ Hallöchen… my name is König “. The glare you gave this man made him nervous, but the masked covered his face, though even without it he was able to not show fear.

“ Names Lycosidae “ You looked back at your gun continuing to clean it. “ Whaddya want big guy? “. He just explains he wanted to get to know you and you laughed a his face and called him an idiot and to never bother you again.

König never stopped trying to talk to you and it was amusing and yet irritating for you. However, you didn’t care much on what he did even when he pestered you.

Those small chats of guns and planning started to turn to more personal questions getting to know you in a deep level: physical, emotional and mental.

You would have never thought that König was starting to be head over heels for you as he got to know you more: he loves the way you smile when you talk about something you like— when you think he doesn’t notice. Or when you teach him how to use your gun when your soft hands met his.

You yourself have started to see König more and began to enjoy his company without notice; you both became an unstopped team. With you as an ambush taking enemies by surprise and a goliath that crushes anyone in his path.

You felt an odd feeling whenever König came to see you, you’d feel your stomach flutter, your face would go hot when he called you “ shöne “ or “ liebling “, your mind would wander to them, and he felt like home — something you never felt.

All the sudden emotions made you feel overwhelmed. You couldn’t be in love, not when you have a reputation of nothing but being a black sheep. You heart felt like it had shrunk and your mind felt dizzy

When König came back from a mission you ignored him and those eyes when you see König come to you gone. Nothing but cold and stoneless killers eyes and lips stuck to a scowl.

König was confused: what had he done to make you so cold again? Was it the fact he left you for too long? No it couldn’t be. He tried to come up with so many answers but not once did they have a solution.

König was planning to talk to you when alone, but it had to be unexpected because he knows you’ll run off and he can’t have that.

He caught you drinking alone at the top of the building’s roof as your feet dangled over the ledges.

“ Liebling… why have you ignored me “. His thick accented voice caught you off guard making the hairs on your arms stand and goosebumps rise. You ignored him and continued to take a sip staring at what’s in front of you

“ Please… talk to me “ His voice betrayed hun hearing that whine in his voice. That pulled a string in your dead heart but you fight it. “ Whaddya want? Don’t you got something better to do than bother me like you always have? “.

König was beyond baffled and hurt. Why where you acting like this? “ Look big guy, you need to stop hanging out with me you aren’t gonna do yourself any good. You’re just gonna get yourself hurt, so, I’m giving you the chance to walk away now “.

König refused to back down and continue to question you until you gave up; he hadn’t expected that it would have turned into an argument. Well, he should of especially with that attitude of yours.

“ König have you seen my reputation? I’m not your friend or some buddy buddy you come to see. No, I’m just some fucked up person who joined the military in hopes of getting a bette future! But no! I don’t, I’m stuck with a fuckin’ rep I never wanted and- “.

König could sense the tears ready to burst and hug you out of instinct; you wanted to fight back, but those weak protest wouldn’t do much and make you even more tired.

König reassures you that you aren’t that person and that they don’t know you like he does. You were so much more than they said it’s just that you never experienced those simple interactions with people. König just seats there with you comforting you and that it isn’t your fault and it never was.

Y’all make up and you start over with him and that you promise that you’d change. “ I’ll try to not be that person people turned me into… just for you “.

“ No liebling, do it for yourself “.

[tellytuber]

12 Shows of 2022

The new (and sometimes old) series and seasons that made my year.

Law & Order (S1-12) + Law & Order: Criminal Intent + Law & Order: Los Angeles I started off the year catching the early (and Best) seasons of the mothership via cable reruns; got Peacock for CI; and then returned midyear when I was half-gone from covid and blearily endured the commercials of what was then IMDBtv for the very LA edition. While I am not technically a "geriatric millennial," I am a millennial and with geriatric interests. For me, peak television has become something that I can either focus on fully or play in the background while I do other things and be equally thoroughly entertained. That is why this franchise has become my number one comfort show.

Shrink + Michael: Tuesdays Thursdays Grouping these into one because I just so happened to watch one immediately after the other, and because they're both about moderately adept therapists who are codependent with their patients. They are also both incredibly funny! These got the biggest laughs out of me than anything else all year. (A shame I didn't get to them till December.) While they are both hilarious, each manage to sweep into very heavy topics and deep emotion without toppling over. #ReviveShrink

Big Love While I’m pretty sure I’ve watched more L&O than anything else this year, I’m deeming 2022 the year of sister wives. In my post marathon blues, I went surfing on HBO and turned on Big Love (after once trying the pilot a while ago and being turned off by its HBO-ness.) But this time it hit me right in the late-00's cable nostalgia. The melodrama, the humor, the cast - Mary Kay Place! It's a (new) classic for me.

Grand Crew (S1) With its simple if derivative set-up, this delightful sitcom got better and better every episode! The ensemble is funny and charming, and the stories silly and fun. Thank god it snagged a renewal and will return because I will need my weekly fix of Carl Tart in between his Comedy Bang! Bang! appearances.

American Auto (S1) At base level, it's just another workplace comedy with a pseudo diverse cast. And the setting of the executive floor of a car company is quite baffling. (It's not even a riff on Telsa. Neither is it too concerned with Detroit.) But it all came together during the commercial episode: During which the team spiral in heated disagreements over how to shoot a commercial that is appropriately inclusive but not too inclusive. Funny! From then on, I started to watch it from a new angle. The ensemble itself is a focus group - and every week is a new satirical debate on the weird standards of contemporary ethics. The show is at its best when it’s everyone in the conference room talking over each other in the voices of their respective demo. I still don't necessarily like it - But it does get me thinking. (About all that I wish it was!) But honestly, I'm only really including this on the list because of the perfect Cyrus played by Michael Benjamin Washington who is never not incredibly funny. He was my favorite character/performance of the year.

Severance (S1) Part Office Space, part Fringe, with the style of Legion. This trippy, beautiful, and exciting drama was a dream to watch! Especially since I watched most of it in the very very early morning with a cup of coffee - the very best way to watch something creepy.

Claws (S4/final) While, the finale was one of the worst I've ever seen (Niecy Nash's scenes were almost exclusively Facetimed!) - This show will go down as being one of the most iconic. The outfits, the colors, the insane swings. It was never not outrageous and gonzo. Did it always work? I don't know. But they had a Vision and Went For It! It was always a wild ride, and I had fun.

Better Things (S5/final) Every year Better Things airs, it automatically gets a spot on my list. And this is the last time. A beautiful show so full of humor and love and art and great music and lots of food.

Search Party (S5/final) Every season comes with a genre turn. And when this one turned, I didn't want to believe it. It wasn't until it turned to black without the Actually It Was All A Dream rewind I was expecting did it set in. I have yet to rewatch it, but when I do I'm sure I'll love it (as my experience with S3). But I do understand it. For Dory, who began the show adrift and yearning for a meaning to her life - to enact some sort of change, to literally change the world is a fitting end. (For me, S4 is the real ending and this is a bonus season.) Either way, it still earns a spot in the TV Hall of Fame. A crazy comedy with twisty mysteries. Extremely sharp and biting, confident in its hipsterness, unafraid of being unlikable - An ideal close to my heart.

Sister Wives (S17) As Elizabeth Laime so astutely put it in the Sister Wives spin-off of Bitch Sesh: There is no other show in which less time was spent making it than time spent watching it. Save for the very beginning (of the end) when Robin joined the family, nothing has happened. (Save for The Catfish, and even then nothing actually happened.) But all that nothing was for the cameras. Big Happy Family propoganda. And this was the season it all fell apart. Now, too much is happening! Cody-19! Christine leaving! Robin wants to talk! Janelle needs a truck for her trailer! (To Cody's dismay) Meri is also there! The knife to the kidneys! As I said before: This was the year of the sister wives. Incredible television.

Evil (S3) The beginning of this season had a lot of splitting up of the trio, which bummed me out. But it made the eventual reunion of the team that much more satisfying, and each of their individual crises of belief more affecting in their isolation. Every season is more weird, more tense, more absurd. I love it so very much! 

My Liberation Notes Every year I have one thing that completely consumes me. This year it was My Liberation Notes. It captured me from the very first episode: A story about a introversion and anti-socialism, when to hold on to it and when to let it go. A story about adult siblings, reared together yet all very different people seemingly in different worlds. So many existential ruminations. Plus an exceedingly slow teasing romance, barely one in the conventional sense, but deeply so as a connection of souls. All about life and its disappointments and mundanity, what beats you down and how you change, how people change you and how you change others.

[suna-reversed]

Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader 

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie,  or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness] 

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same. 

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin. 

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher, 

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself, 

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him” 

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about. 

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out. 

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string. 

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes. 

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’ 

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened. 

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse 

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face. 

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something, 

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt. 

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance. 

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing? 

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis. 

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting. 

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was  a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?” 

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

 - “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”- 

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far. 

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

[frozenfries]

Hi!! Can I request something for yoru with a gn s/o who’s a really good singer and also plays a bit of other instruments like a guitar? Maybe his s/o is embarrassed to play in front of others so he catches them off guard

Hey!! This was such a heartwarming request. Thank you for sending it in, lovely anon ☺️

Lonely Luxury (Yoru x Reader)

Prompt: Yoru catches you indulging in a hidden hobby.

Word Count: 735

• Despite differing in personality, your demeanour always put Yoru at ease, which made him quite comfortable sharing his hobbies with you.

• Knife collecting, his favourite noodle shops, motorcycle riding: you name it, and he’s shown you.

• Eventually he got curious as to what you liked to do in your spare time. He refrained from asking you outright because he just figured you’d share that information when you felt comfortable.

• You never did.

• He wouldn’t admit it, but it hurt him a little to know that you didn’t trust him completely - and this coming from the lone wolf of the Protocol was saying something.

• When he finally discovers what you’ve been hiding, his reaction is one of pleasant surprise and admiration, but he covers those feelings with a sarcastic remark.

• Though he is a little jealous you have this in common with Phoenix instead of him.

• He definitely wants you to teach him how to play your favourite instrument.

• He’d love it if you hummed a tune or sang him to sleep some nights as you two drifted off together.

• It truly baffled him why you kept this secret for so long, but he sure is glad he found out about it (even if it was by accident).

It was a quiet day at the Protocol.

Brimstone had taken some of the agents out for team bonding, including Yoru and Phoenix. So when you completed your chores around headquarters, you used the leftover time to practice music in a space where you didn’t have to worry about any judgement.

You were curled up on the couch in the common room, your guitar in your lap and a mug of Sage’s green tea on the coffee table in front of you. You were stuck on your latest song. Singing the words that went with the corresponding verse, you tried a few chords and then shook your head in frustration, frowning down at your fingers as though it were their fault. You strummed mindlessly with a hum.

Your head snapped toward the sound of a deep reverberating chuckle, the tune you didn’t even realize you were humming dying in your throat instantly.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Yoru’s voice cut across the suddenly bashful atmosphere, tinged with amusement as he leaned back in the couch across from you, arms crossed over his chest. When had he gotten back? “Your voice doesn’t make my ears bleed like Phoenix’s usually does,” he mused as you looked away, your cheeks slowly heating up.

“I heard that!” A new voice could be heard from the next room over, a chastising tone. “Who would’ve thought that you and I had the arts in common?” The fiery agent in question spoke airily, emerging from the kitchen with a bag of crisps and his signature wink. He took a seat beside you, nudging your shoulder as he munched away thoughtfully. “Say, when you’re up for it, I’d love a jam session, yeah? I’m somewhat of a prodigy in music. I’ve got pretty decent acting chops too.” He grinned at you with genuine interest, causing an unfamiliar twinge to bloom in Yoru’s chest.

“Don’t look so smug, Phoenix! They have better things to do than hang around a limey like you, so don’t expect any calls,” the Tokyo native ground out, springing up and dragging you away by the wrist.

“Limey?!” The Brit feigned hurt, a hand flying dramatically to his chest, but his face held a self-satisfied smirk on it when you looked back apologetically.

Yoru pulled you into his room and shut the door, causing you to gulp as he turned around. “I didn’t tell you, because I’m not that good,” you blurted, fidgeting under his intense stare.

He paused. Did you really think that about yourself? “You’re a lot better than you think,” the rift-walker mumbled. Averting his gaze, he took your hands in his. “And I’m not the only one who notices,” he scowled, causing you to giggle.

“Don’t tell me you’re-” Before you could finish your sentence, he closed the space between you two by meeting your lips, catching you by surprise as your hands slowly came to rest on his forearms.

He held you closer and smiled into the kiss, prideful with the knowledge that there were, after all, sounds that only he got to hear from you.

[seal-writes-stuff]

Hi😁 Could I please request an fluffy imagine (or headcanons if you prefer) for Connie Nikas where he develops a crush on Nick's psychiatrist? Like she's really good with Nick so when Connie barges in and sees Nick comfortably laughing around this beautiful psychiatrist, he's caught off guard because he believes he's the only one who knows what's best for Nick? (Cue passive aggressive Connie😂)

Therapeutic

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: F!Reader, swearing, mentions of violence, implied neglect, a dash of general angst

Summary: Connie tries to save his brother, but does he really need saving? And if not, then who does?

A/N: @the-house-of-auditore-frye Your mind, YOUR MIND! Thank you so much for the idea, it’s been a pleasure to write this. As always, my inbox is open, feel free to request stuff. Hope you enjoy!

“Excuse me” Connie barges in the room with the conviction of a man who knows that what he’s doing is right, “Are you Y/N-”

The rest of the sentence dies in his throat before it even has a chance to come out. Going here, Connie kept picturing a scene he was sure he would see: his brother in some depressing room, upset to the point of crying, with a shrink hitting him over the head with the same questions again and again. Checking Nick into outpatient was their grandma’s last attempt to fuck Connie over, no doubt about it. Take one person in the world he cares about and throw him in the hands of a cold, uncaring institution.

But Connie wouldn’t just let it happen. He’d pull his brother away from it, take him home, save him like Connie always did. If he can’t even do that, what good is he for?

 “That’s me” you give him a polite, if confused, smile, “I’m sorry, do-“

“Connie!” Nick turns around, greeting him with a little wave. At any other time that would make Connie’s heart melt. Right now, however, he’s just baffled.

Is Nick laughing?

“Oh, you must be Constantine!” you say in a cheerful voice, as if you couldn’t be happier to see him here, “I’ve heard so much-”

“What’s going on?”

A lame question, but Connie can’t think of anything better right now. The whole plan that he crafted in his head so carefully has just crumbled in a matter of seconds, so now he has to think on the fly. He doesn’t mind, though; it’s one of the few things he’s good at.

“Uh, a therapy session?” you tilt your head slightly, smile unwavering, “You’re a bit early today. Would you mind waiting in the lobby?”

“I- Yes, I would fucking mind! We’re leaving. You can’t hold him here!”

“Of course, hold up” you raise your palms in a defensive gesture, switching your attention, “Nick? Do you want to leave?”

Silence. Nick keeps looking between his brother and you, growing more and more uneasy with every passing second.

“Man, c’mon” Connie feels himself soften, dangerously close to pleading, “Let’s go. I love you. This place is fucked up, let’s get outta here”.

“If you want to go, that’s fine” you squeeze Nick’s hand, looking him in the eyes, “I won’t get angry, you won’t get in trouble, I promise. Okay?”

There’s another pause that makes Connie want to scream in exasperation. The answer is obvious, it’s right – what’s even taking so long?

“No” Nick mumbles, looking at the ground, “Wanna stay here”.

Connie’s shoulder slump, a pit growing in his stomach. You say something, your voice gentle, just shy of apologetic, but the words don’t reach him. The whole thing is a betrayal – a betrayal so deep and personal he struggles to fit it inside his mind, but he has to. He blinks and the daze is suddenly gone, rage hitting him like a wave.

“Great. Have fun, I guess” he steps towards the entrance, looking back directly at you, “Hey, doc? Go fuck yourself”.

The door slams, but he doesn’t care. If anything, he’s grateful that the hall is empty, because there’s nobody to witness angry tears brimming in his eyes.

***

Connie would never admit it, but he’s nervous – so much that he struggles to even sit straight. The air of the waiting room feels stuffy and unbearable, and the clock on the wall ticks so loud it drives him insane. In a desperate attempt to pass time he even tries to pick up some of the magazines lying nearby, but that’s not too helpful either. His mind is still elsewhere, so Connie lets it wander.

As much as he tries to avoid it, he keeps coming back to that damn session, replaying everything over and over again in his head. The “why”s and “what the hell even happened”s proved to be fruitless and tiring quickly, so now Connie’s just looking for someone to blame. Blaming himself is too easy and blaming Nick is just cruel; still, someone has to answer, so that might as well be you. It has to be you – none of this would even happen if it wasn’t for you. He just has to find you again, even things out. Connie hates unfinished business.

However, what he hates even more is being cornered. You aren’t in your office and nobody in this fucking building knows when you will be, so now he’s forced to sit here, simmering in his own rage. If only-

“Constantine!” your voice is so sudden that it makes Connie jump out of his seat. Despite everything, you smile at him, “Nice to see you again. Can I help you?”

For a quarter of a second Connie contemplates if he should even say what he came here to say. At the end of the day, all of it really is just your job, whatever he may think about it. Maybe there’s another way. Maybe he could-

Connie crushes that brief flash of hesitation before it can take root. This isn’t about him, he thinks, this is about Nick. No time to get soft.

 “Actually, yeah, you can. Leave my brother alone, how about that?”

“Oh” the smile drops from your face, which makes Connie feel like the biggest bastard on the planet. Even with his goal in mind, this all feels wrong, “Is something the matter with Nick?”

“Is so- What do you mean?”

“Is he unhappy? If you think the treatment doesn’t help, I can look into other options, but…”

You trail off, yet the question remains. Connie opens his mouth a few times; nothing comes out. Not because he doesn’t know the answer, but because the answer is wrong. Nick isn’t unhappy and that’s the whole problem. He’s calmer. He’s more relaxed. He even talks more – something that used to be a pretty rare occasion. None of it makes any sense and Connie doesn’t like it.

“That’s not the point. You just don’t get it”

“Explain it to me then. I’d love to know”

“You- Are you making fun of me or something?”

“No, not at all, I just-”

“Look, I know what you think. You think you’ve had a couple of sessions with him and now you know him. You don’t! I raised him, alright? You know who made all the food? Who had to calm him down every day? Find him a job? Not our grandma and not you. It’s just- That’s not a place for him. Tell me I’m wrong, I fucking dare you, I-”.

His rant is cut short the second he looks at you. Your face remains neutral – a professional tic, no doubt – but the ever-present concern in your eyes is definitely there, and it burns him with unbearable guilt, worse than anything you could’ve said. Connie suddenly wishes that he wasn’t here at all, but it’s too late to back out.

“That’s…” you shake your head, gathering your thought, “I’m sorry. That’s awful”.

A pause. He thought he was ready for anything: anger, pushback, retaliation... He even briefly contemplated fighting the security guards, although he was pretty sure that wouldn’t be necessary. But this?

“You’re sorry?” Connie blinks, as if doing a double take, “That’s awful?”

“Yeah, it is. I don’t mean to pity you, of course, but that’s a lot to put on someone. It must’ve been very hard for you”.

Shame overcomes him again, so hard that his breath almost hitches. Shame for oversharing like this, shame for how spectacularly he failed and some special, awful kind of shame for the way you talk to him right now.

That’s what you get for not pulling Nick out in time, he thinks. Fucking loser. Get over yourself.

“Whatever” he scoffs, “Don’t psychoanalyze me”.

“Sure, I won’t”.

“Or what, you’re wanna pull me into this therapy shit too?”

“Not against your will”.

Connie huffs, defeated. It’s hard to argue with someone who’s not arguing back. He needs to get out of here, now.

“Look” you put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, but he shakes it off. “I know you care about your brother. Of course you do! But I can’t help if I don’t know what the problem is. If you have any concerns, I’d love to-”

The ringing of your phone cuts you off, so Connie takes it as his cue to leave. You don’t try to stop him and he doesn’t look back, unable to meet your eyes once again. The shame, anger and self-hatred almost make him twitch, but that’s okay. That’s what he deserves for failing twice.

***

Self-reflection isn’t one of Connie’s strong suits, simply because he doesn’t want it to be. Whenever he gets in trouble, solutions come quickly and get him out pretty much immediately. Long-term consequences, however, are hard and weight heavy on his might. It’s just easier not to think about it, so he doesn’t.

This time, though, things are different. In a week that follows his failed attempt to confront you he can’t help but think about it, so much that his head starts to hurt. He wishes so hard that he could get rid of these thoughts somehow, tear them out like a rotten tooth, but he can’t. The facts are merciless and stare right in his face.

One, Nick is happy – truly happy – and not because of him.

Two, in an attempt to ease his burdens Connie lashed out at you, the reason his brother was happy in the first place.

Three, you didn’t lash out back no matter how hard he tried.

There’s something else, though. Something shapeless and almost subconscious, something that he struggles to even name properly, but it is there. Something that keeps adding up to the equation against his will.

Something about you.

He isn't sure if it's your kindness, although you're undeniably kind and understanding. Or if it's your intelligence - for what he's seen, you must be a great doctor. Or even if it's your beauty, although he's sure anyone would see that you're beautiful. Maybe it's the fact that you saw him at his worst and weren't disgusted nevertheless. Nick doesn't notice any of his flaws; you probably notice but don’t seem to care. Almost as if it's something in him that makes you want to overlook all those flaws, make you want to know him. Connie craves it so much it's embarrassing, but for once the shame is drowned out by this powerful want. Once a new week rolls around, his mind is settled - he will see you again, no matter what it takes. Even if it ends in disaster. At least he isn't going to die wondering.

Thinking about all of that, Connie presses his forehead to the entrance of your office. His breath is shaky. All of a sudden, the world around him seems too real; his senses heighten. A big bag of jelly beans weights his hand down a little – he faintly remembers a little bowl full of colorful candy from the first time he stormed into your office. A little peace offering, which now seems unbelievably stupid. Should he give it to you? Should he throw it out?

What’s worse, Connie’s now keenly aware of the bruise blooming on the right side of his face. No matter how hard he tried, sometimes things would go wrong – and of course, they just had to go wrong right around the time he finally decided to make amends. He debated whether you should see him like this or not, but ended up going anyway. After all, if you keep in touch you’ll know about all this stuff sooner or later, and some part of Connie wishes with increasing desperation that you will.

With a sharp inhale, Connie knocks on the door – three times, like it’s some kind of code. Your voice rings out, clear and sweet, not betraying the exhaustion you must feel after a full day of work:

“Come in!”

Here goes nothing, he thinks. Pushing the door open, he pokes his head inside, waiting for you to notice him.

“Hold on a sec, I’m almost do-” you raise your head. Your tone immediately shifts as soon as you see Connie, “Oh, hey. Long time no see”.

“Yeah” he lingers in the doorway, trying to seem as casual as possible, before nodding towards the chair in front of your desk, “Mind if I sit down?”

“Of course not. Make yourself comfortable”

Connie complies, giving the room a look-over as if he hopes to find the right words written somewhere on the walls. You look at him expectantly, but don’t rush anything, which somehow makes him feel even worse. You must be very patient for that kind of job, he thinks, way more patient than he can even imagine.

Come on, you asshole, say something. Anything. Are you going to-

“Is… Everything alright?” you tap your cheekbone a couple of times, and it takes Connie a few moments to realize what you’re referring to, “You don’t have to tell me anything, just-”

“Rough week. Anyway” he drops the bag of candy in front of you before he can back out, “That’s for you. Sorry for being a dickhead”.

“Oh, that’s oka-”

“Yeah, not really” he scratches the back of his head, avoiding your eyes, “I know it’s your job to, like, be nice to people or whatever, but c’mon. You don’t have to say that stuff”.

When he finally has the guts to look at you, you’re smiling. Not even the kind of smile that would no doubt greet any of your patients. It’s more of a warm, loop-sided one, the one that’s reserved for after hours. Connie feels like he has a look behind the scenes, tracing the decorations with his fingertips.

“I mean, you’re not my client, so I can do what I want, but I get what you’re saying” you grab the bag and open it, pouring the jelly beans into the bowl “Thanks, by the way. I just needed a refill”.

Connie nods, mentally preparing to get up and leave. The deed is done, there’s no need to stay, but he doesn’t want to go for some reason. He racks his brain in hopes to find some, any topic he can hold onto, but you beat him to that:

“Actually, you want some?” you point in the direction of now half-empty bag with your eyes, “I’m not eating all of that”.

Connie raises his eyebrows in surprise, grateful nevertheless. He’s not hungry, but it’s not about the candy – just like it wasn’t about the candy when he brought it to your office. It’s a gesture of good will, something to bond over.

Something that says: “I forgive you”.

“You know, what the hell” he outstretches his palm, noticing the corners of your mouth tug up in a smile, “Hand ‘em over”.

***

The conversation flows; so much that Connie loses a track of time. Usually there isn’t a moment when he’s not hyper-aware of the goal he wants to achieve when talking to someone, but not this time. It all feels different with you – natural, calming, like you’ve been friends for many years. Connie briefly wonders if all the shrinks are like that or just you. He doesn’t know and he’s not sure he wants to find out.

Deep down, he hopes it’s just you.

“Yeah” you laugh, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “And that’s when-”

You look at the clock as your eyebrows fly up.

“Oh, we’re closing in 20 minutes” you give Connie an apologetic look, “I still need to finish some papers, so-”

“Got it” he jumps from his seat, happy and content for once, “Y'know, thank you. For everything”.

“Thank you. Actually, wait a second” you dig into the drawers of your desk before fishing out a business card. You write something on it “If you have any questions – I mean, about Nick or in general – you can just call me. My personal number’s on the back, so…”

Your personal number. Connie takes it carefully, as if it’s some precious treasure. A real, palpable evidence that life is okay sometimes.

Better than okay.

“I will” he stuffs the card in the pocket, snorting with laughter, “Shit, that sounds like a threat”.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t” you give Connie one your angelic smiles before looking down, “Bye, Constantine”.

He nods and starts to walk away before pausing by the door, contemplating. Finally, he turns back.

“Actually, can I ask for something right now?”

“Sure, go ahead”.

“Don’t call me ‘Constantine’, alright? It’s fucking horrible. Sounds like you’re about to yell at me”.

A pause. You frown, deep in thought.

“Well, I think it sounds pretty” you straighten out the perfectly straightened out papers on your desk, “But sure. ‘Connie’ it is?”

“Uh, yeah. Guess so. See you ‘round”.

“Take care”.

Pretty. The word is almost as sweet in his mind as it was on your tongue.

***

The card ends up being useful: Connie calls you. And he calls you again and again, first a week after you saw each other, then three days later, and soon you’re talking every day. He isn’t sure how he managed to do that, but he’s not the one to question the good things in his life. If you keep answering then you must want it. Want him.

This thought is what keeps him going when he reaches the door of your office once again. Every other time Connie was here out of desperation. Now he’s here out of hope. He’ll do it right, he’s sure of it.

He’s not quick enough to knock this time though. The door flies open by itself as you’re about to exit.

“Connie!” your face lights up before you throw your arms around him. He freezes for a second, getting lost in your scent, the warmth of your body. You pull away, frowning.

“Sorry, too much?”

“No” snapping out of his trance, Connie hugs you back, feeling your breath tickle his neck, “It’s perfect”.

After lingering for a second, you step back, inviting him into your office with a quick gesture. Both of you settle by the desk once again, looking at each other. Nothing changed, yet everything changed somehow.

“It is my greatest pleasure to see you there, Mister Nikas” you take on a jokingly official tone. Connie can’t help but smile.

“Well, thank you, miss L/N” he gives you a nod full of exaggerated politeness, all for that sweet giggle that exits your lips, “Ah, shit, I mean Doctor L/N. Didn’t go to med school for years to get called a miss, huh?”

“Honestly, went to med school long enough to stop caring. How have you been? You didn’t call in a while, I started to worry”.

“Sorry, work” not exactly true, but not strictly a lie either, “How's Nick?”

“Oh, he's doing great, nothing to worry about. Don't you talk to him, though? You guys are so close”.

“He's at the grandma's these days" Connie moves his hand through his hair, wincing, "And we aren't exactly, y'know...”

“Of course” you nod, giving him a sympathetic look. He briefly contemplates telling you about the restraining order, but ultimately decides against it. He already feels on edge, there’s no need to complicate things even further. The words he knows he should say are stuck in his throat, unable to come out, so he just falls quiet.

“Actually, about Nick… I’m glad you brought him up because” you pinch your lips nervously, and Connie’s ears perk up immediately, “I wasn’t sure how to say it”.

You must see the look of horror in his eyes, because you immediately correct yourself:

“No, he’s fine, that’s the thing! We kind of got through all of the individual things, so- Erm, long story short, he’s getting transferred to the group therapy. It’s in a place, so I can…”

The rest of your words escape him; the only thing Connie hears is a wild hammering of his heart. He knows you’d never harm Nick. And yet, the only reason you still allow him to come here is slipping out of his grasp as you speak, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

No. There must be something. There must be.

“Connie?”

“Hold on, are-are you sure? That’s really sudden. Why am I just hearing about it?”

“Connie” you squeeze his hand and he doesn’t pull away this time, “I’ve done all I could and it worked. These are great news! He’s getting the best possible treatment, I promise”.

“Yeah, but, fuck, that’s” the panic chokes him, preventing him from thinking straight, “You can’t do that!”

A desperate plea, the one that makes him cringe. How pathetic he must sound. You don’t cringe, though, and you don’t seem to find him pathetic either. You just look at him – soft and understanding, like you always do. Connie hides his face in his hands to hide the embarrassment that must be written all over his face; he hears the rustling as you stand up and walk up to him, kneeling in front of the chair.

“Hey” you rub his back gently, “It’s alright. Talk to me. Nick-”.

“This isn’t about Nick” he blurts out, stunned at this sudden bout of honesty. You blink, confused.

Here it is, he thinks.

“Then what..?”

“I want to keep seeing you” Connie knows he’s rambling, but he’s past the point of caring, “I know how it sounds, you’re the only person who’s not- Fuck, it’s just… Can I stay? Please. I like you and I want to stay”.

The confession runs out; Connie takes a deep breath. It’s horrible and embarrassing, but freeing in a way. At least he doesn’t have to think about it all the time anymore – every day, hell, he’s lucky if not every hour. He braces for your response as you sit there quietly, your thumb rubbing his knuckles.

Finally, after what feels like forever, you speak up.

“You know why I haven’t asked you out, I don’t know, weeks ago?”

“No?” Connie’s throat feels dry all of a sudden. The world feels fuzzy; Connie takes in your features, hanging onto every word.

“Well, first of all, since you’re my patient’s close relative that would be, um… Bordering on unethical, don’t you think?”

“Oh” truth to be told, he doesn’t. He’s never concerned himself with ethics anyway, “And second of all..?”

“Nah, that’s it”.

Silence hangs in the air for a moment before Connie sees a mischievous spark in your eyes, and that’s when the both of you start laughing. A free, relieved belly laugh, and it feels Connie with so much love, so much happiness that he swoops you in a hug as you let out a little yelp.

“Fuck ethics” he covers your face in quick smooches as you giggle, the sweetest sound in the world, “Fuck ‘em. You’re so beautiful”

“Stop it!” you press a kiss to his mouth with a laugh, “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I dunno. You’re so… Dignified”.

“Fuck being dignified” you rest your forehead against his, “Tonight at six?”

“Doctor’s order?”

“Shut up!” you kiss him one again, and for a moment, the world is alright and Connie is content.

Maybe there is hope for him too.

[pantoneyoongi]

even if it’s pathetic

title ; even if it’s pathetic  i want to ask, what was i to you? 

notes ; 

part of the till the night is over drabble series. drabbles are not released in chronological order, but the masterlist is set up as chronologically as possible. :) 

title is from baek ah yeon’s “shouldn’t have”

word count ; 2.2k

tags ; angst, college!au, we’re getting close to the end, pls go to masterlist for more / general tags 

you find jungkook in the common room on his dorm floor. he’s chatting with jennie and chaeyoung, roommates who live in a dorm down the hall from him. he’s seated, one arm thrown over the back of his chair, looking so casually handsome in his black tee and ripped jeans, tousled hair. 

you make your way to him, crossing the length of the room. when he turns his head and spots you, the grin that forms on his face makes your heart ache. it doesn’t skip a beat like it used to, but a part of you remembers on reflex. that you love him. 

“hey,” you don’t quite smile when you reach him, but he straightens up and beams. “i need to talk to you.” 

he doesn’t seem to recognize the solemnity in your voice, getting distracted by chaeyoung and jennie’s conversation to the side. “jungkook,” you insist, one hand coming up to grip his chair. “in private, please.” 

he blinks a couple times at you, confused by your urgency, but gets up nonetheless. “okay,” he says, one hand gesturing for you to go first. “my roommate’s out. let’s go to my dorm.” 

the short walk down the hall feels like an eternity. you rub your palms against your jeans, running the words over in your head again and again. the ones you tried your best to memorize, so you can get what you want to say across and leave with as little damage to your heart as possible. 

when jungkook opens his door, you take a seat at his desk. jungkook stands across from you, leaning against his dresser. “what’s up? everything okay?” 

you feel like you might pass out. 

“hey,” jungkook leans forward a little, tilting his head at you and smiling comfortingly. “it’s just me.” 

that’s the problem.

you take a deep breath, trying to stabilize yourself. “jungkook,” your voice is steady, thank god. “i need to tell you something. but before i tell you, i just need you to know that you’re my friend, one of my closest friends, and you mean a lot to me. that in spite of everything we’ve been through, that’s never changed. and…” 

oh, god. 

you can’t get through the rest of your planned speech. it all slips out of your mind when you’re looking at him here, alone, and he’s staring back with his undivided attention. you can see the confusion in his expression, but he stays quiet, listening to you. 

“oh, fuck this,” you mutter. “this script is bullshit.” 

his lips quirk a little, though he doesn’t look any less puzzled. 

“i’m in love with you.” 

the confession comes softly, without hesitation. it sounds too loud in the silence of his room, but you hold his gaze, your heart beating out of your chest. you pray he can’t tell, that he doesn’t notice how hard it is for you to admit it out loud knowing he’ll never love you back. even if the person you want is no longer him. 

he looks utterly baffled. it’s like he doesn’t quite understand what you’re saying - as if it’s all a foreign concept, like he hasn’t heard countless similar confessions before from exes and others. it makes you smile bitterly, that he doesn’t understand you even when you lay it so plainly out on the table for him.

“i’ve been in love with you for a long time, jungkook,” you push, gently. you watch it slowly dawn on him, eyes going wide, lips parting in surprise. he struggles to form words, unsure what to say. he looks like he can’t really make sense of what you’re telling him. like it’s not even possible that you could be in love with him even when you’ve been so utterly obvious for so many years. 

“w-what?” 

you feel calmer, now that it’s out. no longer lodged in your throat, stuck impossibly there for almost as many years as you’ve known him. 

you purse your lips. “yeah,” it comes out a heavy sigh. “for years, jungkook. i’ve been in love with you for years. but i’m trying not to be. i’m trying really hard to move on, and… i don’t think i could do that without telling you. maybe it’s selfish, but i needed the closure. i needed you to know.” 

you pull your bottom lip into your mouth, entire body tense again. you raise your eyes to meet his. “i needed to look you in the face and say it out loud, so i could be sure.” that you don’t love me like that. that i need to let go. that i’m capable of letting go. 

“i hope…” you grip at the edges of your shirt, wrinkling the material, trying to keep yourself grounded. “i hope you don’t look at me differently for it. i hope that… i hope that we can still be friends, jungkook.” 

you don’t know if he can hear the desperation in your voice. the fear. of losing him. jungkook is so much a part of your life that you’re terrified your feelings will get in the way. even if you’re professing them so you can finally put them to rest. 

jungkook stares at you, and you can practically hear the gears in his head turning, processing, trying to comprehend what you’ve left out in the open air now. he sinks slowly to the floor, a short, nervous laugh escaping him, and a corner of your lips twitch at that. jungkook really never knows what to do with feelings. 

“why now?” he asks, knees pulling up. “why tell me now?” 

your fingers tap nervously against the wood of his chair before you make the split-second decision to join him on the ground, legs criss-cross. your shoulders are an inch apart from his, but the space suddenly feels too tangible. 

“i meant to tell you years ago,” you admit finally. “after you broke up with yerin. but i couldn’t do it. i convinced myself i didn’t like you anymore. but i was wrong. and i did it again and again, i like you, i don’t, i like you, i don’t. whatever was easiest for me to face. until it stopped being easy. until i stopped being able to pretend.” 

you turn to look at him. you wonder if he can see your broken heart when your eyes meet. “until i fell in love with you.” 

jungkook sucks in a breath, eyebrows furrowing. he doesn’t look away from you, as if the way you look at him is holding him captive, imprisoned. you smile, a little sadly. 

“and while i’m being honest, jungkook, i’m just… tired of being scared. hurting by myself while you find one girl after the next, and never seem to want me. at some point i resigned myself to accepting you’d never want me the way you wanted yerin, lisa, jamie, jisoo… nayeon.” 

you swallow hard. nayeon’s name is hard to speak, when you know how she ended up on his list. 

“and at first it was just - i don’t know. maybe i didn’t want to fuck up our friendship. maybe i was scared of what it meant if i loved you. all i know is that at some point” - you inhale shakily - “at some point it became less about you not loving me, and more about the possibility that you might. that you could.” 

every part of you feels vulnerable right now. like all your walls are down, and he can see all of you. “i was scared to tell you i love you, because what if you liked me too?” you whisper. 

“and i knew you wouldn’t mean it,” you tilt your head back tiredly against his dresser, shutting your eyes. “i knew i’d be just like every girl you’ve ever dated. i’d wonder, is he talking to another girl? is he hanging out with someone else? because that was me, jungkook.” you open your eyes, head still resting against his dresser when you turn towards him. “when you said good night to yerin, you stayed up all night with me. instead of calling jamie, you were calling me. and now?” you lift your head up, staring at him even as he looks away, knowing what’s coming next. “now, when you’ve decided you want nayeon, instead of jisoo?” 

jungkook’s shoulders tense. he doesn’t look at you - can’t, not with the unshed tears in your eyes and the hurt so utterly evident in your voice. 

“jungkook,” your voice forces him to look back at you. “i don’t think i could’ve handled it if you decided one day that you wanted me and then left me the same way you left jisoo. because i knew. i know you jungkook,” you breathe. “even if one day you decided you wanted me, someday, sooner or later…” your lips twist into a pained smile. 

“a part of you would realize you didn’t really want me after all.” 

.

.

.

in spite of everything, you leave jungkook’s room intact. head held high. it’s jungkook who keeps his head lowered, shame wrapped around him as you try to tell him as gently as possible how he hurt you. how he should never have treated you the way he did if he wasn’t going to love you like you’d desperately wanted him to. 

“i want to move on, jungkook. i don’t want to keep doing this to myself. waiting on someone who doesn’t want me. the way you treat your relationships are so fickle, and being in love with you made it so hard for me to tell you that. because when you’re in love with someone you don’t always see things with clear lenses.

“but looking back on it, you shouldn’t have held my hand. you shouldn’t have treated me special. when you do things that cross the line from friendship into lovers - if you were just hurting me, that’s one thing. but you were hurting your girlfriend, too. because she should be the one on the receiving end, not me. there shouldn’t be a pattern of girls you leave behind who tell me that you couldn’t give them what they needed or wanted because you were doing those things for me. you leave me with the guilt because i love you and i’m selfish, and i wanted anything you were willing to give me. your actions weren’t for me to accept, and i admit to that. but i shouldn’t have had to stop you to begin with. you should know better than to start in the first place. and if everyone else could see that you were giving me the attention that belonged entirely to someone else - then i don’t think i’m the only person who shoulders the responsibility. you should’ve known better.

“jungkook, i still love you,” you promise. “but from now on, as friends. i hope you know that means you can’t keep… holding me, the way you do. i’ll be here if you need me. but i think we need some new boundaries, jungkook.” 

by some miracle, jungkook doesn’t argue. he looks torn up, and you hate to be the reason behind it, but after years of being in love with him without any reprieve, you think this is the one time you’ll have to let jungkook hurt on his own. sit with his own actions spelled out for him. 

“if it counts for anything… i didn’t know,” jungkook had said, quietly, in the aftermath. “how you felt. i just… you’re my friend.” 

sana will tell you he’s lying to your face but you believe him. you always do, after all. 

in the end, it doesn’t matter. your heart is battered and bruised, but you still feel a weight shift off your shoulders. whether or not jungkook was leading you on, whether or not jungkook has feelings for you and just isn’t capable of recognizing them - you don’t want to play what-ifs. you’re tired of being hurt by them. 

jungkook says he doesn’t know how you felt. jungkook says he never reciprocated, not even once. okay. you’ll take what he says at face value. you don’t want to dwell any longer. you’ve had years to dwell on every single little action jungkook took, every word he ever said to you, trying to comprehend if he meant something more. trying to make sense of the way he looked at you. 

you still love him, of course. your feelings are still there; speaking them into a space where he can hear doesn’t make them suddenly disappear. but he’s still your friend, too. and for the first time in years, you can finally settle with the term, sit comfortably with being just his friend. 

you know you’ll always love him. but it doesn’t mean you’ll always be in love with him, and for once, you feel like you stand a chance of actually getting over him. there’s a relief, in not having to wipe jungkook clean out of your life. a relief in having told him all the ways he’s hurt you, and feeling like he won’t do it again. because you won’t let him. because he knows better now. 

it’s a feeling you let settle into you. a comfort. one that you should know better than to let sink in, because it’s jungkook, and you know him better than anyone, even when you’re lying to yourself. 

other drabbles in the series: let me love you || let you treat me like that 

series masterlist: till the night is over

taglist: @mwitsmejk @doublejeon @landl7xoxo

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Poco a poco forte

In collaboration with @bethanysnow (whose askbox is always open!)

Jealousy was never a good look with stardust in the other’s eyes. Boundaries are tested. Fantasies are made hot and heavy with some alcohol. Will they make it back to the hotel all in one piece?

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 5845

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei  @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut​ @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys @luvbadass @buttercup-beeee @navs-bhat @etaerealboyv  @tryymebitch @mell-bell @fenhakwe @solacestyles @softforlukescurls @vicsangel @theimpossiblehologramtree​

***

Copenhagen was a whirlwind that barely left any time to breathe. Even the short break Y/n was granted in between was promptly used to make a dash for the nearest tourist shop. Adding a fridge magnet to her growing collection. No misses so far. She’d be lying if she wasn’t proud of it. Victoria gave a little tour through the city, giving ample opportunity to provide the fans with content via various social media platforms. A mad scramble back to the venue, soundcheck, dinner. A gig full of little mishaps, including Ethan losing a drumstick halfway through and Damiano almost tumbling off stage. At least the crew had gotten into a groove, ‘new tour’ jitters finally forgotten. That night, at the hotel, Y/n had found herself standing outside her door, empty ice bucket in hand. Somewhat wondering, hoping, someone would join her. Not just anyone. Him. But she wouldn’t knock on his door and he didn’t come to hers. It wasn’t to be. At least not that night. 

The morning had brought the band another wake-up call from Y/n. Everyone was starting to settle into their routine. Get ready, get on the bus, get handed coffee by Y/n. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying this little comfort of domestic bliss, taking care of the people she was starting to consider friends. It felt right.

***

Damiano’s morning wasn’t quite as peaceful. His thoughts were plagued by images of Y/n. His decision to ‘cool it’ and back off a little seemed to be biting him in the arse. When she had come around to wake him up, she had been in a partially sheer blouse, black jeans and boots and he thought she looked like the perfect little alternative housewife. Luring him out of bed with the promise of coffee and breakfast. Now he was sitting on the couch on the bus, watching Y/n fly around the little kitchenette and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her bum in those jeans.

Nope, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Not now. The conversation with Victoria two nights ago was still ringing in his head. He had decided she was right - no use in pursuing anything unless he was certain what he was feeling and what he wanted out of it. He would still have enough time to make his move once he figured it out. Right? He didn’t know what Y/n was thinking. Or what she thought of him, so no use dwelling on it. Still the thought struck him, he barely knew anything about her. He should probably talk to her more. Infallible logic, he thought to himself. Backing off and talking to her at the same time. Great.

“Y/n… how do you usually take your coffee, by the way?”

“Lots of creamer, usually. Sometimes a bit of sugar, if I’m feeling fancy. Or if I’m feeling really fancy at a café, I might get a caramel macchiato.”

“Caramel is always nice.” Of course, she would like caramel, he thought to himself. “Do you normally drink coffee or are you more or stereotypical British tea drinker?”

“I enjoy a cuppa when I’m home, definitely. Italians aren’t exactly known for their tea now, are they?” A smirk appeared on her face, maybe a little baffled by the conversation, but happy to humour him. “Lady Gray is a particular favourite. Followed by breakfast tea with some sugar and milk. Before coffee. I can make you some tea sometime if you fancy?”

“That’d be great. You know, I just had an amazing idea actually,” Damiano grinned. “When we first went to Berlin, there was this amazing tea shop - would you want to go when we have the gig there?”

“That sounds lovely,” Y/n replied. “Of course.”

Another step closer to getting to know her.

***

“Right, we’ve all got an hour until soundcheck and some press things, I’m gonna go take Chili on her walk, you lot do whatever you want until then.”

Y/n had expected a few non-committal grunts, a wave, maybe a “see you later, I’ll go have a nap”, but instead, the whole band seemed to be on their highest energy levels. All of them immediately scrambled to their feet, looking for shoes and jackets, proclaiming they wanted to see the city, maybe take some pictures for Instagram along the way. Y/n wouldn’t dare complain about the company.

It didn’t take them long to reach the harbour, walking along the river as they enjoyed the bustle of town and the view. Y/n found herself pulling out her phone, telling everyone to gather around her.

“I’m no photographer, but I do need some memories of all of this. Thomas, stop pulling that face!” Thomas quickly dropped the grimace as she took the picture, the historic old town in the background. Chili was busy running around between the five of them, loving whoever gave her the attention the most. Y/n thought Victoria was reaching for the leash, already preparing to hand it over, but instead the bassist grabbed her hand. Obviously in a giddy mood, she began swinging their intertwined hands between them as they walked. Y/n couldn’t bite back a smile. She had missed having a close friend ever since she had moved to Italy leaving her best friend behind in the UK and she felt like this blossoming friendship with Victoria could truly begin to fill the void in her heart.

The blonde girl pulled her into a deep hug as Chili decided to go bother Ethan instead.

“I want a photo with just you,” Vic explained, pulling out her own phone for a snapshot. Y/n complied with a sigh but wrapped her arms around her, ready to take the picture. Right as the click went off, Victoria pressed a kiss to her cheek, taking her by surprise. Neither of them could hold back a giggle at her face in the photo.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, by the way,” Y/n spoke up as a little break in the conversation offered itself. If only to distract from the affection and it worked perfectly. All eyes and ears on her. “I’ve booked a little dinner for tonight. But not just any dinner. A burlesque one!”

The group let out various cheers. Thomas immediately ran ahead of the group, shamelessly faking a striptease as they kept walking. Damiano made sure to record the performance, already giggling to himself. Thomas was in the middle of shrugging off his jacket, walking backwards, when - ouch! - he bumped into a pole, heavily bonking his head. Everyone erupted into hysterical laughter, and after rubbing the back of his head with a pour for a moment, even the guitarist joined in.

“You alright?” Y/n asked breathlessly, trying to hide the giggles in her voice, genuinely concerned about him still.

“Besides the fact that I just got all of you to drop your panties for me? I’m great!” The blond grinned at his own joke, as everyone else rolled their eyes.

“Yes! Oh my god, take me Thomas!” Damiano gasped dramatically, pushing himself up against Thomas, who grabbed onto his leg to dip him.

“Wait! Hold on!” Y/n shouted, once again grabbing her phone as the captured the moment. “Now that’s one for the fridge.”

***

Backstage was business as usual. Y/n once again took the time to watch the band soundcheck, always feeling soft looking at the way they played without having to be ‘on’, without putting on a big performance. Yet, she was still in work mode, phone displaying the name of a reporter she was waiting on, along with the name of the magazine she was working for. It didn’t take long for her to appear.

The woman was undeniably beautiful. Thin figure, long, red hair, picture perfect makeup. Even her clothes were pressed, luxury brands decorating her, adding to the pristine image. A press pass hung around her neck, acrylic nails tapping something into her phone. Leaning back, Y/n noticed the particular red leather on the bottom of the woman’s heels.

It was only after putting her phone away that she acknowledged Y/n at all.

“Anywhere I can sit down with the band?” Her eyes barely even met Y/n’s.

“Uh, yeah, once they’re done with soundcheck, they will be in the greenroom,” Y/n said, mustering the woman. “You the reporter?”

“Sure, sure. Can I go there now, sit down, get ready?”

Y/n studied the press pass on the woman’s neck, making sure she was actually the person they were looking for and shrugged. “Alright, follow me.”

She led the reporter further backstage. The greenroom was fitted with a couch and a couple of chairs, a vanity in front of the mirror and makeup already carelessly thrown around. A costume rack in the back.

“Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” the woman muttered, looking around the room, obviously dissatisfied with it’s slightly chaotic state and - probably - lack of style. “That’s all I need you for, then.”

Y/n’s eye twitched, busying herself with the clothes, reorganising them to distract herself.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but rules are rules. Can’t be in a room alone, privacy reasons and all that. I’m sure you understand.” 

“Well then.” She carefully placed herself on one of the chairs, highly aware of her posture, her face, and the fact that she’d be right in view of everybody entering the room. “Maybe you can be a bit of help, then. You know, a little insider information between us girls… How into the whole, you know, rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle are they really? I’m talking, drugs, alcohol… groupies?”

It was no question as to what she was hinting at.

“Well, Damiano has a whole tattoo verifying that he hates parties. Plus, they’re not really known for that kind of stuff. And for the interview, I’d rather you stick to the approved questions that your magazine has discussed with our management. There’s no ‘insider information’ here -” Y/n was about to talk herself into a whole rant, when the door opened and the band moved into the room, joyous and hyped for the show that evening.

Victoria was the first to bounce over to Y/n, kissing her cheek, before collapsing on the couch next to her. Ethan, Thomas and Damiano followed suit. Chili had followed the band, now hopping onto the couch and making herself comfortable on Y/n’s lap. Ethan looked over at the reporter, brow raised. “You here to do the interview?”

“Oh you know it,” she winked. Y/n didn’t miss how her whole demeanour had changed and she couldn’t have been more annoyed. “Lovely to meet you all.”

She held out her hand to Ethan, the smirk never leaving her face, before greeting the others in a similar fashion. She held onto Damiano’s hand much longer than the others.

“Nice to meet you,” Damiano said, politely, sitting down as well.

“Oh, that’s no trouble at all,” she beamed at the singer. “Now, you’re here in Hamburg today, and in the part of town most notorious for having Europe’s largest red light district. Do you feel like that’s the perfect background for your gig tonight? You know, with the music you play and the way you dress - it’s not like you’ve been shy about sex in your career so far.” 

They all chuckled slightly.

“Well, sexuality isn’t something to be ashamed about, at least we don’t think so. It’s part of everyday life and part of our own experiences so we put that into music,” Victoria eloquently explained. “And what we’ve seen of the city so far has been very beautiful.”

“Well, maybe I should give you a little tour then, show you the naughty parts of town,” she laughed. “Back on topic though, I imagine touring can be hard, being away from everyone. Do you ever get lonely on tour? For friends or… something else?”

Damiano coughed. “Sure, we get lonely, like anyone else would. But we make a family out of the crew. Everyone on our team is very close to us.” Y/n could clearly see in his eyes that he knew full well what the woman was hinting at. “We love touring, so when you love something, it doesn’t feel like work.”

Ethan nodded in agreement. Y/n could see through all of them easily - none of them wanted to be there.

“Yes, of course, touring can be difficult, but we have fun, so not that bad,” Thomas added.

Y/n didn’t miss the way the reporter briefly looked over her shoulder to muster a reaction from her. “Well I’m sure you’re easily able to find some fun away from your… crew. Lots of parties on tour so far?”

At that point, Y/n was ready to rip the reporter to shreds. But she knew she had to stay professional, and the band was more than able to hold their own, so she stayed quiet. Ethan next to her sat up a little, obviously uncomfortable.

“No, we don’t party. No time.” His vision went dark as he looked at the woman in front of them. As kind and mindful as he usually was, he didn’t shy down when it came to showing his scarier side when he needed to.

“Yeah. We sometimes go to a bar on a day off, but that’s about it. Work is more important,” Victoria threw in as she put an arm around Ethan on the back of the couch.

Y/n felt a wave of pride at the way the band was holding up. It was absolutely no secret to her that they were desperately waiting for this interview to end, annoyed with the reporter and the lines she kept trying to cross, but they stayed polite and professional. She thought that this was what made them real rockstars in that moment.

“Okay, one more question, then. You entered this business really young, you still are, yet you write quite mature music, how do you manage that?”

“We write what we want to write. Perform how we want to perform. I don’t think that has an age limit,” Damiano spoke curtly. His eyes flickered over to their assistant. Y/n was sure he didn’t miss the way she was staring daggers into the back of the reporter’s skull. “And music has always been a passion of ours. We just got lucky really early in life, I guess.”

“Well thank you very much for your time,” the reporter said, standing up, and once again reaching out her hand to say her goodbyes. “Hope to see you around…” As she came to Damiano, Y/n didn’t miss how she stuffed a little note in his hand. “...hopefully.”

“Can I go kick her face now?” Y/n stood up, seething, as soon as the reporter had left the room. “Sorry, no, that’s actually rude. But I’m going to call management and report that woman.”

“Yeah, that… wasn’t cool,” Ethan contemplated. “How about you make that call and then we take your mind off it with the dinner show you booked for us, yeah?”

Y/n took a deep breath, looking at Ethan, whose eyes had turned back to show nothing but kindness. She couldn’t wait to forget about this disaster for the rest of the evening and enjoy herself. With the band in tow, she was sure she would.

***

Damiano hadn’t been quite sure what to expect from dinner that evening - but it wasn’t a table smack in the middle of the first row right in front of the stage. He should have seen it coming, really. When Y/n planned and schemed, she always made sure to get them the best of the best. Determined to make sure everyone was having fun. She truly took care of them like no other.

A waiter was at their table in no time, taking orders for drinks and food, and the openers started before Damiano even had a chance to take a sip of his wine. As soon as it became obvious that the first act of the evening would be pole dancing. The rest of the band started snickering, nudging Damiano’s side. Still, they all watched in amazement as the dancer started their performance, music filling the room.

“You know, I could do that,” Damiano whispered in Y/n’s ear as he leaned in close. She looked over at him - at the performer - back to him.

“Sure you can,” she giggled.

“Oh I can,” Damiano insisted, leaning in closer than necessary now. “And in heels.”

Y/n couldn’t stop herself from coughing, choking ever so slightly on her drink, as her eyes widened and a slight shade of pink appeared on her face.

Damiano simply couldn’t help himself. He knew he had meant to back off, give her a little space, give himself some time to think, but the words simply slipped out. “I can always offer you a private show, you know?”

This time, she only paused for a moment before whispering back, “You teach me pole dancing, I’ll teach you rumba, yeah?”

Fuck, he hadn’t expected her to get the upper hand so quickly. Still, he never once lost his smirk, murmuring a “sure” back at her. She had gotten back her cool, focusing back on her meal now, only looking up to watch the performance every now and then in between bites. She was making it way too hard for him to back off. He wondered if she knew what she was doing to him.

Leaning back into his chair, Damiano watched the performer on stage. They were beautiful, no question about that. Amazing at what they did. It was impossible to keep your eyes off them, even Y/n kept getting distracted. He wondered if she’d look at him the same way if it was him up there. Or if he did a little show himself that night, on stage at their own gig. Catching her attention like the dancer was doing now. Maybe making her lose her mind a little bit. It was worth a try…

The performance was over much too quickly for his liking and only shortly after, the main dancer of the evening was announced to go on stage soon. It didn’t take long for the lights dimming, before fading to black completely. A hush falling over the crowd. A spotlight found a petite, blonde bombshell in the middle of the stage. Perfectly sculpted hair, blue boa feather skirt, a glitter corset that dripped with silver and gold accents. She seemed to be glistening under the stage light, body glitter accenting all the right curves and features. Then she turned around.

Damiano’s jaw dropped - along with just about everyone else’s. She was così bella, un angelo. She walked to the front of the stage as the crowd cheered and whistled. Damiano was enraptured by her. She was mystifyingly beautiful. Each move was carefully planned out, knowing exactly what she was doing and how to do it. She was feeding off the crowd, spurred on by the shouts and comments, as she moved across the stage.

Damiano’s eyes followed her closely. He felt hypnotised by her performance. He had never given burlesque much thought, but this show was changing his mind rapidly. The only thing to pull him out of his was a sigh - a disgruntled noise maybe - coming from his left. It was hard to make out Y/n’s face in the dark, he realised as he turned towards her. But if he’d learned anything about her body language in the past days, he was certain that she wasn’t happy. Her arms were crossed in front of her and she was leaned back in her chair in a way that tried to suggest she wasn’t bothered. But she was. He just couldn’t figure out why.

He was distracted when the dancer was back in front of their table, looking down at them from the stage. She sent all of them a wink, before pulling the elbow-length gloves off one by one and throwing them to the side with a smile. She mesmerised him, even as she moved away from them to give another table some attention. Yet, Y/n was playing at the back of his mind.

Why did she seem so mad? She was the one who had booked this dinner, why wasn’t she having fun? Was she still preoccupied with the reporter from before? Sure, that one had definitely stepped over lines, but he thought they’d all gotten out of there pretty unscathed. And the reporter's number had wandered into the bin immediately. He considered the matter closed.

The woman on stage slowly lowered herself into a split, causing pretty much the whole audience to lose their minds. This was too good. More cheers and applause from everywhere. Damiano heard Vic shouting vague words of encouragement as the woman lost her bra, only pasties covering her nipples now. Y/n let out a little groan and from the corner of his eye, he could see her rolling hers. This time, Damiano wasn’t the only one who noticed. He watched as Victoria and Ethan exchanged looks, then nods, and finally shrugs.

Finally the performance ended, the dancer leaving the stage with another wink and kiss blown towards them. Damiano wished it could’ve gone on for longer. These people knew how to turn sex into art, and he’d by lying if he said it didn’t inspire him.

“Okay, gather up, no time to waste,” Y/n order, getting up from her seat the second the lights were turned back on. “You have a show to play and I don’t want you to be late.”

Damiano threw another look around. Even Thomas, who had been too preoccupied drooling over the dancer to notice anything else, was now staring at Y/n questioningly.

“What’s going on with her?” The guitarist asked as they all gathered their stuff and followed their assistant outside.

“Fuck if I know,” Damiano mumbled. “But I wanna find out, sooner or later.”

***

It wasn’t like her to be jealous. She didn’t care much about what other people found enthralling. But Damiano had looked at the dancer as if she was god’s gift to humanity. Yes, she was pretty, yes, she knew how to shake her arse. Was it all that special? The dancer was petite, a perfect fit for Damiano’s arms. A perfect figure to match his. Y/n was confident, she knew she was beautiful, but unfortunately the rest of the world didn’t always think the same. Unlike the dancer on stage. That woman was more than beautiful… She was palatable, sexy, perfect in all the ways a woman should be. Qualities that Y/n was currently convinced she didn’t possess any of.

Okay, maybe she was jealous. But she didn’t have any right to be. The dancer was simply doing her job. And so what, if Damiano had fancied her? It wasn’t like they were together. She worked for him, that was all. She didn’t have any right to want anything from him beyond that.

The fresh air hit her face as she left the venue, forcing some clarity onto her. She’d have to get a grip and get back to focusing on her job. It’s what she was there for, after all.

***

Victoria bounced over the Y/n as she left the venue, full of adrenaline and happiness from the show she had just watched.

“That was amazing, Y/n! Where did you get the idea for this being today’s dinner?” She asked, hooking onto the assistant’s arm.

“Looked up places we could go online, found this one in a travel blog. Said it had amazing wine so I thought we could check it out,” she explained without looking up from her hands, which were toying with the receipt.

“Well, you sure do have impeccable taste,” Victoria grinned and kissed her cheek. It seemed to pull Y/n out of her head enough to look up at the bassist. But Vic’s smile vanished quickly when she saw the look in her eyes. It was cloudy, gloomy, enough to make Victoria freeze up. Thomas was excitedly chattering about the show in the performance in the background, how hot he thought the performers were, especially the last dancer. Damiano eagerly agreed. Y/n’s seemed to have a flash of venom on her face, and suddenly it clicked in Vic’s mind. Oh, she knew that look well, had carried it herself a couple of times in her life.. She was jealous. Y/n was jealous of the way they all - or maybe, someone in particular - had reacted to the woman on stage. And she was doing a bad job hiding it.

As soon as the car pulled up, everyone scrambled to get it. Y/n immediately started bouncing her leg, still a stormy look in her eyes. If it didn’t seem so serious, Victoria would be amused at the state their assistant was in. Yet, with the expression on her face right then and there, the bassist didn’t dare make a joke.

Damiano was sitting next to Y/n, and Victoria desperately tried to catch his eye. It took a slight kick against his shin to get him to look at her. She flickered eyes back and forth between Damiano and Y/n, motioning him towards the woman. Hoping he would understand. Luckily, they’d long gotten used to reading the other’s face, no need for a verbal conversation. Damiano looked down at Y/n’s hands, still picking at the receipt, and he quickly grabbed one of them. Interlacing their fingers and offering her a smile when she looked up. Her leg stopped bouncing immediately.

“You alright?” He whispered.

“Yeah. Am now.”

Victoria couldn’t bite back the smile on her face, quickly turning towards her phone to be less oblivious. Those two would do just fine, sooner or later, she was sure of it.

***

The concert venue was smaller than some of the others they’d been playing on this tour, but if anything, it had caused the crowd to be even more rowdy. Y/n once again sat to the side of the stage, engrossed in her phone. Damiano snuck a peek through the curtain, before retreating and watching Y/n instead. She didn’t seem half as gloomy as she did at the dinner show. But a certain forlorn quality was still obvious. She had never been this type of obviously sad or upset before. At least not to his attention. Well, he was determined to get her to laugh tonight. Whatever had ruined her mood, he was going to fix it.

The band was getting hyped up, gathering around, some last minute fixes to their instruments among excited chatter. Yet, apparently, it hadn’t been only him who noticed Y/n’s mood. Once again sharing a look with Ethan, Victoria motioned her head over to their assistant. He nodded, before walking over to Y/n, taking her by the hand to get her to stand up, and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Victoria quickly followed suit, then Thomas, who had caught on. Damiano quickly gave a wink before kissing her forehead instead.

“For luck!” He shouted, as he ran on stage, welcoming the crowd. A quick look back confirmed a bashful smile on her face.

Everyone was on fire that night, even Y/n seemed to let go of her bad mood more and more. Damiano didn’t miss the way she sang along to their cover of ‘Take Me Out’, obviously getting into the show more than previous nights. Knowing all the lyrics, dancing ever so slightly… Damiano realised he really had it bad for her.

He decided to go for it during “For your love”. With a pointed look towards her, he slowly started rolling off one arm of his jacket. Then the other. A little mock burlesque show of his own, dramatically shimmying his shoulders as he got rid of the jacket completely. The crowd more than appreciated his little performance, judging by their screams. The rest of the band was eating his energy up, playing harder, going crazier. As Damiano jogged over to grab some water, he didn’t miss the opportunity to turn his back towards Y/n, shaking his arse in a bad attempt at twerking. Turning back, he could see that she was desperately trying to bite back a smile. But he wasn’t done yet.

Making sure she was still looking at him, he began playing with his microphone. Giving it a teasing lick and sending her a wink at the same time. Watching her as he let his hand rest on his chest, slowly wandering lower with a teasing touch, until it rested in his lap. He only managed to keep it up for a second, before he couldn’t hold back the laugh at her expression anymore and turned back towards the audience.

But apparently, Y/n had some trick of her own. Well, it seemed like she wasn’t even aware of them, but they worked on Damiano all the same. She was taking her hair out of the pony tail for the night and he thought the way it cascaded around her face was beautiful. He felt like a movie cliche, watching as the main character let her hair down and everything suddenly happened in slow motion. Yet, here she was, trying to shove a bobby pin back into place, and he was losing his shit. He thought it was ridiculous though. The crazier her hair went, the crazier he went about her. She swayed to the music and for a second Damiano could swear time stood still. 

I wonder if she likes her hair pulled… The thought distracted him to the point that he forgot what he was singing, quickly covering it up by animating the audience to sing it instead. He was glad to be nearing the end of the set. He’d never wish to go off stage, per se, but Y/n was once again occupying his thoughts and the way she was moving to the music now didn’t help.

Another song, another bow towards the audience, another well-practised “Danke!”, and they were off stage. Damiano briefly considered going over to Y/n, only to see Thomas basically chasing her away, threatening her with a sweaty hug. Her slightly panicked squeals proved she wasn’t a fan of the idea. He didn’t mind. He’d make sure there’d be more time to catch up with her later.

Briefly dropping into the dressing room, Damiano grabbed his cigarettes and a hoodie, before heading outside for a smoke. The backstage door led to a quieter alley than the famously busy Reeperbahn on the other end. But there were still more than a handful of people walking past, singing, dancing, shouting into the night, beer bottles in hand. It didn’t take long for everyone else to join him. Ethan headed outside first, bumming a cigarette off the singer, before Thomas and Victoria followed. They were once again involved in some sort of mock argument. Y/n stepped outside a minute later, phone in her hand, already back to work-mode and probably checking the plan for the next few days. Everyone was still on a high from the gig, chatting and giggling, but Damiano felt himself taking a step back. He loved watching his friends, loved what they did, loved that he got to do it with them. And now Y/n too, in a way. Not even a full week in and he knew that this tour wouldn’t have been the same without her. 

He was rapidly pulled out of his thoughts as a group of men came towards them, obviously way past drunk. Yelling and hollering for no reason but to be annoying and get everyone’s attention. Damiano hated those kinds of drunks. In his experience they were nothing but trouble. He had half a mind to retreat back inside before they reached the group, but even in their inebriated stupor; they were quicker than expected. 

“Now, who are these beautiful girls?” One of them slurred, stepping forward.

“Yeah! Bet you give a man a good time,” another one laughed loudly. “And a cheap one too.”

One of them was moving closer now, almost touching Victoria - but without even a moment to process what was happening, Y/n acted. Damiano watched, fascinated, as she grabbed the man’s extended hand, twisting it around his back and shoulder checking him into the brick wall of the alley. No second thought, no hesitation. Shouldn’t the men have been the one to react and take care of their girls? Well, it didn’t seem like Y/n was one to wait to be saved.

In a tone that he had never heard before - and neither had the rest of the band judging by their reactions - Y/n spoke, “You couldn’t afford me, mate. Or my friends. So I’d take your piss drunk self elsewhere, m’kay?”

The men were gone faster than lightning, stumbling to find their footing as they ran, only starting to comment on how she was a “fat fucking bitch” and how they “wouldn’t have wanted her anyway” when they were far enough away. Y/n wordlessly rejoined the group.

Damiano found himself releasing a breath. The whole scene had been over so quickly, he barely registered it. He wasn’t the only one either, he realised. As the other three kept staring at her, amazed and maybe slightly intimidated, while Y/n didn’t even react.

However, Damiano wasn’t just mesmerised by her behaviour. He was thrilled by her - in more ways than one. The way she had handled herself was downright hot. She was fierce, self-confident, and strong. He couldn’t keep himself from contemplating whether this was a side she would let out in the bedroom as well. Was she the type to take control? Order him around? Push him to a wall like she’d done that guy, only with very different intentions? He would be 100% okay with taking orders from her, he decided.

Y/n finally looked up from her phone, apparently feeling everyone’s stares on her.

“...What. I told you I worked security before.” She looked at Victoria, quietly asking her if she was alright. She simply nodded. Damiano still couldn’t keep his eyes off of their assistant. Damn, that woman had more to herself than she let on.

***

Damiano was still thinking about it an hour later. After everyone had gathered their stuff and gotten back to the hotel and split up into their rooms. After he’d gotten in the shower. His mind was still running wild. He quickly turned the water to cold, letting out a hiss at the change in temperature, but he knew he didn’t have the time or the privacy to do anything about his thoughts. Neither would he be knocking on Y/n’s door, desperate for some kind of attention.

Not tonight.

[sinner-as-saint]

All For Love.

Cherry!seb/Mob!seb x Reader AU

Run-through: Your father is an influential and prominent figure in the business world. Naturally, you have guards around all the time. Which means that you’re not allowed to leave the house and go out whenever or wherever you want, despite being a grown woman; therefore your boyfriend frequently has to sneak in and out of your heavily guarded home when he wants to see you. It would have been much easier if he wasn’t a mob boss, or if your father didn’t hate him so much. The mob boss knows it’s risky, but he’s willing to risk it all, for love. 

Themes: smut, fluff, cherry!seb, daddy kink

a/n: just a quick little fic because I missed cherry!seb too. 

“I’m just gonna be gone for two hours, dad. Just two hours.” 

You whined on the phone. You hated how your father made you feel like a rebel teen; confined inside your own home. Then again, you knew he was doing it for your own safety. 

“Absolutely not.” He used his typical dad voice. “I told you, it’s not safe out there right now. And I need to keep you safe so please just listen to me, stay home safe.” You had heard that sentence a thousand times. “I’ve spoken to your guards, you are in safe hands.” 

You sighed, knowing this was a losing game. “Where are you going? When are you coming home?” you asked. 

He chuckled. “Oh that’s for me to know.” 

You scoffed, trying to figure out where he could be going since he left in such a hurry, without informing you. “What, you don’t trust me?” 

“No, I trust you. It’s that good for nothing boyfriend of yours that I don’t trust.” Oh there we go again. “Seriously, you can do better than him.” 

“Dad, I love him. You just have to accept it.” 

“No. Never.” 

You sighed. “Whatever, bye dad. I love you. Come home soon.” 

You ended the call as soon as he said bye and you were about to call someone else but you gasped when you felt strong arms wrap around your waist; pulling you into a muscular chest. 

You smiled as his scent wrapped around you. “How long have you been here?” You turned your head to the side to find your boyfriend smiling down at you. You still had no idea how he managed to sneak into your home whenever your father left. And no matter how many times you asked him, he always answered saying: ‘I have my ways.’ 

“Couple of minutes.” He mumbled, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. “Your old man still hates me, I see.” He noted, nibbling on your skin. His hands found their way under your shirt and he gently fondled with your breasts. 

You closed your eyes, relishing his touch. “I’m sure he’ll come around soon enough. He didn’t even tell me where he’s going.” 

Seb chuckled. “Europe. On a business trip. He’ll be gone for a week.” He answered, baffling you with the information. 

You gently stepped out of his embrace, making him groan as you stepped further from him. “How do you know all that? Dad wouldn’t even tell me anything.” 

He gave you his signature smirk. “I have my ways.” He stepped forward and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you close again. “Come here,” he leaned in and kissed your lips gently, “Daddy missed you.” His kiss was passionate. He was eager. 

He walked the two of you backwards as he nibbled on your lower lip before letting it go; pushing his tongue into your mouth. His kiss had you breathless before you even made it to your bed. You ran your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp; making him moan through the kiss as he managed to slip his hand under your oversized shirt. He dragged your underwear down your legs in no time, throwing it somewhere on your bedroom floor. His hand found its way in between your legs quickly, and he touched you like he was starved. 

“I’ve missed you too…” you whispered against his lips. He moaned against your lips in response as his fingers slipped past your entrance with ease, and he stroked your walls slowly at first, then picking up his pace as he went. And he had you whimpering and moaning in no time. 

“Always so wet for me, aren’t you babygirl?” he whispered against your skin as he kissed down your throat. 

You whimpered as he removed his fingers from you, from in between your legs and shamelessly pushed his two fingers into his mouth, closing his eyes and moaning as he tasted you. 

“So sweet,” he mumbled as he kissed his way down your body until he was on his knees in front of you. He looked up at you with a feral look in his pretty blue eyes; his lips swollen. 

His hands held you at each side of your hips and your hands found their way into his hair. He inched his face closer to your core. You let out a quiet moan once you felt his tongue diving into your folds. He wasted no time in sinking two of his fingers into your entrance and curling them each time they pumped in and out of you while he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. 

You tugged on his hair as he devoured you to satiate both your hunger. You looked down and bit your lip at the sinful sight. Him kneeling at your feet, half of his face buried into your core; his eyes closed as he occasionally moaned at your taste on his tongue. The sounds he made drove you wild. 

You felt the pressure building up again at your core with each stroke of his fingers and each lick of his tongue; circling the skin around your throbbing clit. Your body squirmed under his. 

“Cum for me, baby.” He mumbled, flicking his tongue faster, teasing your clit and pumping his fingers in and out of you until you gushed out all over his mouth and fingers. You came, hard; moaning, whimpering and tugging at his hair. 

He pulled away and smirked as he kissed his way up your trembling body. He leaned in and kissed your lips again; feverishly. You both managed to get each other undressed, while still being unable to keep your mouths off each other. 

He hovered over your bare body in no time, grabbing both your wrists and pinning them above your head. “I love you,” he whispered and leaned down to kiss your swollen lips. 

You mumbled against his lips, “I love you more.” 

He pressed his forehead down onto yours gently, while he pushed his erected cock past your tight entrance. You moaned out loud as he did. He grunted once he filled you up entirely. You shuddered as you felt all of him. His lips found yours again, trying to get you to stay quiet while he rolled his hips against yours.

He removed himself and pushed himself back into you. You heard him panting and swearing under his breath as he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulders; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you. “Fuck..” he moaned into your ear as he fucked you relentlessly. 

You whined, throwing your head back and moaning at how good he felt. He growled right in your ear as your walls clenched around him. 

He reached up and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “You feel so good, babygirl…” he whispered. His blue eyes were wild and fierce; staring deep into your soul. His gaze made you shiver. You liked it when he looked down at you, like he owned you.

You whined again. “Daddy… please, I-,” 

The sound of your phone vibrating on the bedside table cut you off. For a brief moment, you saw panic on Seb’s face. He froze, as did you. 

He stayed still for a moment, his cock still buried deep inside you as he reached out to grab your phone for you. The slight friction made you moan again but you panicked as he turned the phone screen towards. It was your dad calling. 

Shit. 

“You think he-,”

Seb cut you off, with a mischievous smirk on his face. “Pick it up.” He simply said and you felt your heart skip a beat. 

“What?” You frowned in confusion and tried to sit up but he pushed you back down on the bed, and shut you up with a deep kiss for a brief moment. 

“I said, pick it up.” He whispered against your parted lips. 

The phone kept buzzing in his hand, right beside your head on the pillow. “No, you-,” He sighed and cut you off by answering the call and tapping on the speaker icon. Your eyes widened in panic. ‘What are you doing?’ you mouthed at him before speaking up. “Hello?” 

“What took you so long to pick up the call?” your father sounded a little irritated. 

You tried to ignore the way Seb bit your neck and kissed down your throat, making you shiver. 

“I was, uh, downstairs.” You answered, trying your hardest to maintain your calm and composure. 

Seb pulled away and stared down at you. ‘Liar,’ he mouthed as he hovered above you, pulling out of you just a little before pushing back in. You bit down on your lip to avoid making any sound. 

“I wanted to let you know that I won’t be home until next week. But mind you, that useless boyfriend of yours is not to be seen anywhere near you or the house while I’m away, you understand?” 

Your dad’s words made little sense at this point as Seb slow fucked you; kissing the shell of your ear and moaning quietly just for you to hear as his cock stroked your walls gently. You tried your hardest to keep quiet but Seb let out a soft, breathy chuckle upon hearing what your father just said. 

“Oops.” Seb whispered in your ear as his long, warm fingers wrapped gently around your throat. 

Your teeth released your bottom lip and you answered, “I understand.” You panicked just a little as you sounded quite breathless, courtesy of your boyfriend, but luckily your father didn’t notice. 

“I will also be sending another security team to…” 

You could no longer focus on what your dad was saying as Seb pulled out of you and kissed his way down your body again; realizing that he wasn’t teasing you well enough. 

You almost moaned out loud as he settled in between your legs again, and spread them even further; sticking his tongue out and teasing your entrance slowly while he looked up at you. His tongue poked around at your entrance and you felt like you were just about to lose it. 

“...are you even listening to me?” You heard your father’s irritation on the other side of the call. 

Shit. What did he say again? “Yeah, yeah. Uh, I agree, yeah.” 

Seb lazily circled his tongue around your clit, flicking the little bud with the tip of his tongue. And you bit on your bottom lip, careful as to not accidentally let out a moan.

“Oh,” your father sounded surprised. “Well good then, also I was thinking that maybe we should open another…”

And yet again, you couldn’t keep up with what he was saying because you were busy trying to hold back a moan as Seb slipped one finger through your entrance. He smirked and kissed the glistening skin along your wet folds. You tried scooting away from him but his grip around you was very firm. 

You supported yourself up on your elbows and bit your lip as you looked down at him. You could barely hear the voice on the phone anymore. Seb was the only thing you could focus on. He stared deep into your eyes, kissing along your inner thighs as he slowly finger-fucked you. 

You almost let out a whine, but caught yourself just as you were about to. Brows furrowed at his own inability to make you lose control, he placed his mouth over your clit again, stroking your walls with his fingers at the same time. He applied just the slightest bit of suction on your sensitive bud and you bit down hard on your lip; turning your face as far away as you possible could from the phone.

“...what do you say?” you heard your father ask. Oh this was a mess. 

You cleared your throat, “Uh, yeah dad. Sure. We’ll discuss it further when you get home.” He agreed and ended the call. 

Seb looked up at you, his mouth submerged completely in between your legs. He lifted his mouth off you and hovered above your squirming body. Slowly, he removed his fingers from you and pushed them through your already parted lips, placing them on your tongue. 

He pumped his fingers in and out of your mouth. His lips trailed along your jaw and finally kissed underneath your ear. “You bad, bad girl.” He spoke as he slowly pushed his fingers further into your mouth. “Lying to your father like you’re doing no wrong.” He whispered, kissing down your neck and nibbling along the skin at your collar bone. “When in reality,” he nipped at your skin, making you whine, “here you are, being such a perfect little slut for daddy’s cock, huh?” 

You moaned at his voice alone, your own voice muffled by his fingers in your mouth. He eventually pulled them out, leaving you wanting more and panting. 

“Please…” you whispered, unable to take it anymore. You needed him. Bad. 

He smirked, tracing your mouth with his thumb slowly, taking his time. “Please what, baby?” 

“Please fuck me… I need you. Please, please daddy…” 

He smirked wider. “Well since you’re asking so nicely,” he leaned in to kiss your swollen lips again, then pulled away from your lips, and pressed his forehead on yours gently, while he pushed his erected cock past your tight entrance again, pulling your legs up to wrap them around his waist. 

You moaned out loud as he pushed into you. He let out a grunt once he filled you up entirely. He then grabbed both your hands, laced your fingers together with his and pinned your interlaced hands down on the bed, above your head. 

His lips found yours again, as he rolled his hips against yours. He pulled out and pushed himself back into you. He lowered his face, and leaned into your ear; growling and moaning and panting as he fucked you, finally. “So good for daddy…” 

At some point he let go of your hands to hold your body. He gripped your waist and pushed deeper into you. You heard him moan and swear under his breath as he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulders; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you mercilessly. 

You moaned out loud; wantonly, as he pushed deeper and deeper into you each time.

He bit your lips as he kissed your open mouth; shoving his tongue into your mouth like he owned it while he rammed into you; and you never once complained. Your legs trembled around his waist, he thrust deeper into you, mumbling how good you felt.

“Fuck…” his voice cracked as he moaned. The sound of his moans and grunts sent tingles dancing down your spine. Your back arched off the bed as you felt a familiar warmth washing over you. He growled and bit down on your shoulder to keep himself from making any loud noises while he fucked you. He was relentless. And you loved it, as always. 

His hand wrapped around your throat again, and he very gently squeezed the side of your throat. But enough to make you lose your mind. You could only moan and whimper in response while he kept pounding into you incessantly. 

“Come on baby, cum for daddy…” 

You felt the sweet pressure grow in between your hips as you tightened around him, feeling the burning hot need to cum grow hotter and hotter inside you until it exploded. You came with a loud moan, gushing all around him. Seb came right after you; buried deep within you – growling and mumbling swear words under his breath. His warm cum shoot at your walls and trickled out of you when he carefully removed his length from your entrance. 

He collapsed right beside you in your bed, pulling your naked body closer to his and wrapping his arm around you while you both caught your breaths. 

“My dad will kill us both if he even finds out you sneak into my room all the time.” You whispered, kissing his damp chest before laying your cheek upon it. You smiled as you heard the steady beats of his heart. 

He chuckled, tightening his grip around you. “I know. But that’s the risk I’m willing to take for you.” Cheesy as always. 

Then you remembered. “Dad said he’s sending another security team over.” You sounded a little sad because that meant that Seb wouldn’t be able to stay much longer. 

“So?” He sounded so cocky, one of the main reasons why you fell for him in the first place. 

You giggled. “So, that means you have to go before they get here and catch you.” 

He smirked. “They’re my guys. They would never.” 

You shot up in a sitting position, grabbing the sheet and wrapping it around you. Your brows furrowed in confusion, again. “What?” 

He had that mischievous smirk on his face. “Your dad keeps hiring the best security teams for you, without realizing that they’re all my guys.” 

Your jaw dropped. “So the guys downstairs guarding the house, they-,”

“Work for me.” 

“Seb!” you couldn’t believe it meanwhile he laughed at the face you made, reaching out and stroking your hair lovingly. 

“What?” he grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles as he watched you process the information. “I had to trick your dad because I couldn’t possibly sneak into your house so many times had they been other guards. But hey, this way I know you’re always safe. Even when I’m away.” 

You shook your head, smiling. “You’re insane.” 

Seb pulled you back on top of his chest, kissing the top of your head as you laid on top of him lazily, without a care in the world. “A little, yes.” He ran a soothing hand down your back. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, you crazy man.” 

He chuckled. “Well, now that we have the following week all to ourselves, what do you wanna do?” He asked. 

“You.”

[2-cute-4-school]

𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮

Group : NCT

Pairing : Griffyndor! Mark Lee x gn! Reader 

Genre : hp au, rivals to lovers, light angst to absolute fluff

Word count : 4.4K words   |    M.list

Warnings : injury, swearing

Summary :  ‘He had nightmares of you slipping right past his fingers and him failing to catch you. He relives that moment.’

a/n: thank you for 1000 followers you absolute cuties!! sending lots of smooches and snuggles your way!!

“Aren’t you going to ask how the coolest champion is feeling about tomorrow’s match?”

You watched Donghyuck, your fellow housemate and best friend since you first stepped onto the Hogwarts train, expectantly. He spared you a quick glance as he plopped down beside you on the couch in your shared common room, too busy to munch on his chocolate frog to give you any further attention. 

“I’ve already asked Mark.”

You would like to be able to say you were surprised at his answer, but his teasing character has become an usual by now

It still baffled you how you managed to even tolerate each other, much less get to share a bond as deep as the one you developed along the years. You two had next to nothing in common other than your cunning wit. While Donghyuck delved deep into his love for astronomy, which you despised with a burning fervor, you dedicated your time to Quidditch entirely. 

You loved the sport dearly, it offered you that adrenaline rush you were born to chase, that quickened heartbeat as you rushed to catch the Golden Snitch. You spent every spare moment you could find in your hectic schedule on the pitch with the wind threading through strands of your hair and your hands clenched so tightly onto your broomstick your knuckles turn white. And you adored every second of that. But what you definitely didn’t adore was Mark Lee.

“And worst best friend award goes to surprise surprise Lee Donghyuck!”

He shrugged unimpressed by your weak attack and focuses back on his damned frog.

Mark Lee. Unfortunately for your sanity, you had to see him almost as often as you decided to practice on your own. If there was one thing you shared with him and you respected him for was his own commitment to Quidditch. More often that not, you’d have to share the pitch with him in your spare time, taunting each other for the entire period of time you spent practicing. He was the beloved Seeker of Gryffindor, their pride and joy and your rival ever since you were both accepted in your respective teams.

“So what’s your score against him?”

“It’s a draw.”

Yes, you were that petty. You and Mark kept the score on how many times you defeated each other in matches. It didn’t actually matter which team actually won, the only thing that mattered for your childish competition was who managed to catch the Golden Snitch.

“That’s why you’re so tense?”

“Bingo, smartpants.”

“What even is the big deal about your little game? It’s not like either of you actually gets something out of this.”

“I gain the right to stick my win in his face and vice versa.”

Teasing between you and Mark often stretched your patience to its maximum and ended up in one of you snapping like a chord under pressure. Donghyuck shivered as he remembered the final match of your fourth year when your house lost against Gryffindor due to Mark catching the Snitch before you. He could vividly remember the blood rushing through his veins in fear at the sight of you battling Mark shoulder to shoulder at a dangerous speed, arm stretched out so far he believed you’d topple over at any moment.

He doesn’t want a repeat of the miserable image of you he saw at the time, a defeated you, slumped on the bench in your changing room, head lowered in ultimate shame and disappointment as bitter tears rolled off your face, splashing against the floor as Donghyuck watched worriedly through the half opened door. Mark had really done a number on you that day.

“You have to win, Y/N.”

“Why the sudden change of heart, wasn’t our competition meaningless for your highness?”

“I don’t give a frog’s toe about your competition, but I want to spend time time with you this summer. And not just to watch you practice until you drop.”

You scoffed. You knew that he was referring to the summer after your horrifying defeat against Mark. Donghyuck could barely get a hold of you since you spent all day on your broom, tiring yourself out to your limit.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on losing.”

~

“Already wetting your pants, Y/L/N?”

You didn’t have to turn around to put a face to the taunting voice behind you.

“I don’t know, Lee, should I? You must know since you have more experience than me.”

Mark’s face scrunched up at the reminder of his first year when he lost control of his broom and he quite literally saw his life flash before his eyes. Not very Gryffindor from his part.

“Whatever, we both know how this is about to end. Save your cheap defense until after this final. My team will win this year’s tournament and I’ll beat you individually too.”

The reminder of the stakes of this match weren’t soothing your nerves at all, especially mere hours before you were facing Mark on the pitch. You curled your fists and kept a straight face, not daring to show him any weakness from your side.

“Shove that pointless confidence up your ass until you prove you’re worthy of it, Lee.”

“Oh so fourth year isn’t enough proof?”

The corner of your lips twitched and your eyes narrowed. zeroing on his tense featured in a chilling glare.

“You said matches don’t count, didn’t you? You were the one insisting that you didn’t consider anything a victory other than catching the Snitch before me. And in that aspect, last I verified, we’re equals.”

His lips moved soundlessly, trying to come up with a retort, but you didn’t spare him enough time to come up with anything, turning on your heels and marching away to meet Donghyuck.

“You’ll see, Y/L/N, you’ll never be my equal.”

His voice followed you tauntingly through the busy corridors, your rushed footsteps taking you anywhere but close to the only person who could make your blood boil.

~

It took three pep talks and four ‘friendly’ attacks of your personal space from Donghyuck to make you gather your spirits and stop the tremors shaking up your entire body. He walked you to the changing room’s door, patting you roughly on the back one last time

“Give your best, I’ll be watching from the stands. I trust that you won’t let me get bored. Also, remember that if you lose you’re sleeping on the mat in front of the entrance in our common room.”

And with that he skipped away, hurried to find a good spot in the stands that were already starting to fill up with students. You sigh, used to his weird way of encouraging you and stepped inside the room, greeting Jungwoo, your captain and your fellow teammates, starting to change into your Quidditch uniform.

As soon as you set foot on the familiar pitch, your eyes met Mark’s who stood straight and proud side by side with his own captain sporting his Gryffindor red cape and holding his broom, the newest Nimbus model.

You Keeper was talking your ear off about the ‘amazingly efficient’ polish he found, but you couldn’t seem to rip your gaze away from Mark who in turn seemed to burn through you with his gaze. He threw you a smirk as if provoking you to lose your cool. But you decided you wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction.

The stands were already roaring to life. Any match between you and Mark was very sought after by everyone in your school due to the intensity it held each time. Despite the already loudness surrounding the pitch, one high pitched screech couldn’t help but catch your attention.

“KICK SOME ASS, Y/N! Or the mat is waiting for you!”

Count on Donghyuck to be the embarrassing mom rooting for you at her child’s every sport event. You shoot him a warning look to which he only responded with an over dramatic wink and an even louder ’whoop’. You could only sigh, appreciating his support despite your lack of reaction to it.

“I’ll kick your ass, Lee Donghyuck.”

You muttered, trying to stop the smile forming on your lips. A snort came from the side, making your head snap in its direction.

“Try your best, Y/LN, too bad you’ll still disappoint lover boy over there.”

“Jealous, Lee?”

“You wish.”

Madam Hooch interrupted your banter with a shrill whistle, stepping in between the two teams while holding the Quaffle.

“Alright, boys and girls, mount your brooms.”

Within seconds all players were high in the air, adrenaline pumping through your veins, your heated gaze locked with Mark’s. It became kind of a tradition between the two of you, intense stare downs before the official start of the game. Madam Hooch’s voice which carried the same words every time sounded far away as she bent down, ready to throw the Quaffle.

“Alright, I want a clean and fair game, hear me? Good luck and may the best win.”

The long deafening whistle signified the start of the match and Chasers whizzed past you, speeding towards the Quaffle. You and Mark broke eye contact, each of you getting immersed in the game, your sole focus being on catching sight of the Golden Snitch.

The weather worsened as the game progressed, the unpredictable May weather acting up. The clouds darkened, completely shutting out any ray of sunshine trying to sneak past them, a thickening fog suffocating the school grounds. Slowly but surely, what started as a few scattered rain drops soon turned into a full blown storm, a cold shower falling atop of you, the harsh wind whipping your capes back and forth. The stands were barely visible, the cheers from below inaudible over the wind and the players’ yells.

If it wasn’t hard enough already to spot the small, golden ball, now it seemed close to impossible. You could make out Mark’s silhouette flying around, but you didn’t linger any longer on him, focused on catching sight of the Snitch. Bludgers were flying everywhere, the Beaters’ efficiency decreasing because of the lack of visibility, another worry to add to the list.

Gryffindor was in the lead with 20 points, the score remaining tight as the match dragged on and on. You had already been playing for a while, your uniforms were already soaked and your skin paling from the biting cold of the unforgiving rain, but the conditions only spurred you further. You had to catch the Snitch.

Just as your patience was running thin, you caught sight of a fast-moving golden spot, hovering on the sidelines. Without a second thought, you sped towards it, your surroundings blurring as your eyes focused solely on the already moving Snitch. Mark noticed your forceful actions immediately, whizzing past the others players and nearing you.

“And Y/L/N seems to have finally spotted the Golden Snitch! Both Seekers are bolting after it, I can barely keep track of them!”

The crowd exploded, cheering louder than ever, but you couldn’t hear anything, pushing yourself to the limit as Mark caught up to you and you battled side by side once again. The Snitch seemed to be angrier than ever, jerking furiously at every corner, but you didn’t let yourself be caught by surprise, keeping up with it.

Until it started speeding in a straight line, stopping its irregular twists and turns and you knew that was your chance. You flew at top speed, stretching your hand in front of you so much that your muscles almost protested and Mark followed suit. You were shoulder to shoulder with him, subtly knocking into each other in an attempt to make the other lose their balance.

“Move! It’s mine!”

His hoarse voice yelled right by your year, only making you grit your teeth harder.

“Fuck off, Lee!”

Your fingertips were a breath away from the Snitch, Mark’s arm pressing into yours, the cold wind biting at your cheeks. Desperately, you shifted your weight from your bottom to the hand clutching your broomstick, leaning forward on your arm and before Mark could react, you lurched forward slightly, encasing the running object in the palm of your hand, clutching it so tightly it left marks into the skin, but you didn’t care. 

You did it. You caught the Golden Snitch.

“Y/N!”

Before you could regain your stance, a Bludger knocked into your broom forcefully. With your already unsteady grip on the broomstick, you toppled over in an instant, the broom slipping from under you, but you didn’t dare unclench the fingers trapping the Snitch in your hand.

Mark’s desperate yell seemed to be the only sound echoing in your ears as you plummeted. The last thing you saw before you knocked loudly into the ground with a sickening crack were Mark’s distressed features, a hand stretched to its full extent in front of him as he rushed to get a hold of you, your own outstretched fingers slipping right past his.

~

Surprisingly, as soon as you managed to crack your eyes open you weren’t hit with a blinding light. It still seemed to take a great effort to keep them open for longer than a second, your hand twitching in an attempt to bring it to cover your sensitive eyes, but being stopped by a weight forcing it down. 

“Y/N?”

You groaned, scrunching up your face as soreness hit your body full force at your attempt to move.

“Merlin, Y/N, can you open your eyes?”

You could recognize Donghyuck’s voice anywhere, but the almost desperate tone he used was quite foreign to you.

“Come on, babe, open your eyes. Madam Pomfrey! ”

You realized the weight on your hand were actually his fingers which now squeezed yours encouragingly as his other hand came up to smooth strands of your hair away from your face. You clenched your teeth, forcing an eye open.

“Stop fucking yelling, punk.”

At your annoyed retort, he let out a relieved sigh, wrapping his arms gently around you while trying not to jostle you too much.

“Thank Merlin, you’re back.”

After Madam Pomfrey checked on you and updated you on your injuries which were a bit more serious than you expected, she left you with Donghyuck once again. He leaned back in his chair, a lot more relaxed than in the past days he’s had to spend by your bedside. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“The match. We won the match right?”

Donghyuck snorted as your first question was about Quidditch instead of your own health, but it didn’t even surprise him anymore.

“Yes, you crazy hag, you won.”

“Yes! We did it! We won!”

You’ve never felt more relieved in your entire life. You finally proved to yourself that all the time and work you’ve put into Quidditch wasn’t for nothing. And if this was the elevation you’d feel after winning cups, you were ready to spend the rest of your youth chasing the Snitch.

“You should eat some chocolate, gain your energy back.”

Now that he mentioned it, you finally focused on your nightstand that overflowed with sweets. You grabbed the closest one, a chocolate frog, not hesitating to stuff it all in your mouth and collect the card inside. Another Nicolas Flamel, you already had two of those. 

“Those are a lot.”

“Tell me about it. Don’t worry, I’ll help you finish them.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Hyuck, tell me, did Jungwoo cry?”

“Should’ve seen him, like a baby. I’m pretty sure he filled half of that cup with snot-”

“Ewww, I didn’t need all the gross details. Ah, I’m sorry for missing that. And Lee’s face, I bet I’d sleep like a baby for the next 10 years if I had the chance to see that.“

Donghyuck’s lips were suddenly pulled into a smirk, eyes glinting with a dangerous mischief.

“You should see one of your beaters, damn nice nose Mark delivered.”

Your munching slowed down, gulping down the sweetness loudly.

“What do you mean? Did that petty git start a fight?”

“Wouldn’t say it was out of pettiness actually.”

Mark was the first to land beside your crumpled figure, dismounting his broom faster than ever and crouching hurriedly before you. His hand ghosted over your cold cheek, too scared to touch you in case he did more harm than good. His shaking pupils fixated on you, running a hundred miles per hour over your face, hoping, praying that you’d open your eyes and celebrate in his face.

“Hey, wake up, don’t play games on the pitch, you already won! Y/L/N!”

Mark knew deep inside that you had no games left to play after a fall like that, but it was his first time seeing you so small, so hurt, so defeated despite the shining Golden Snitch still clutched loosely in your limp hand. It scared him.

“Bloody hell, wake up! Madam Hooch! Help! Anyone, help!”

His head snapped around trying to catch sight of anyone coming to your aid, eyes scanning through the fog crazily. The rain seemed to fall faster and faster, the chill settling deep into your bones. Exhausted, Mark lowered his head in defeat, his forehead gently leaning on yours, his nose nudging against yours. One of his hands still touched your cheek, lightly caressing it, thumb running over the apple of your cheek as his other hand curled into a fist against the ground.

Jungwoo landed next, almost tripping over his broom as he rushed over to you and knelt next to you, opting to ignore the position Mark was in and focus on your well being. Mark’s head didn’t even turn as he spoke lowly.

“Do something for Merlin’s sake. Get Madam Hooch, or Pomfrey! Anyone dammit, just to something!”

Mark raised himself at the lack of response from Jungwoo who seemed rotten to his spot, freezing at the sight of you.

“Are you deaf?! Fucking help!”

That seemed to snap Jungwoo out of his frozen state as he jumped to his feet, sprinting towards the stand where teachers usually stayed during matches. One by one, your teams landed and gathered near you as Mark’s yells of help guided them to you.

“Merlin, that doesn’t look good.”

Mark’s burning gaze settled on your beater who stood a few meters away, leaning on his broom.

“It would have looked better if you did your part right.”

The beater rolled his eyes at Mark’s harsh remark.

“Relax, man, I just wasn’t playing attention for a moment.”

“And you think that’s a proper excuse?!”

Mark was fired up by now, lifting himself to his feet as one of your Chasers, a year younger than you crouched by your side, gripping your hand. He sauntered over, coming face to face with the beater who didn’t seem that interested.

“I’m just saying it’s not my fault their own incompetence landed themselves in the hospital wing, I’m not pulling anyone’s wight al-”

He didn’t get to finish his mocking words as Mark’s fist met his nose with a loud crunch, Mark’s powerful swing sending him to the ground as blood started dripping from his nose steadily.

“Don’t you ever talk about Y/N like that. Not ever again. If I hear one bad word about them coming out of your worthless mouth, I’ll hex you into next year. You’ll never be half of the player Y/N already is, remember your place, asshole.”

Madam Hooch was already tending to you by the time Mark turned back to you, deeming it safe enough for you to be moved to the hospital wing. Donghyuck, who sprinted out of the stand as soon as he heard your name coming out of Jungwoo’s mouth, held your head in his lap, smoothed down your hair, pushing away wet strands that covered your eyes.

Mark strode over to you, taking off his cap and laying it over your body as he slotted an arm under your legs, his other coming around your back. He lifted your body, cradling you against his chest as Donghyuck also stood up to fix your position in Mark’s arms into a more comfortable one.

“Off to the hospital wing,now. Quick, quick, quick!”

Mark didn’t waste another moment before he hurried inside the castle with you in his hold and Donghyuck quick on his heels.

“Mark Lee stood up for me? The same Mark Lee who hates my guts since we first got in our Quidditch teams?”

“Do you know another Mark Lee? Maybe he didn’t hate you that much after all, or…not at all. After all, all these chocolate frogs are from him, said something about seeing you exchange some cards with his Griffyndor friend in class or something.”

“He visited?”

“We wouldn’t be able to get rid of him sometimes. He opened up to me once when we met outside the door trying to sneak in one night.”

“Why were you even sneaking in?”

“I was bored, okay? I had no one to tire me out during the day.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, he said he had nightmares of you slipping right past his fingers and him failing to catch you. He relives that moment.”

“Did it really affect him that much? Accidents happen all the time.”

“Not to you, Y/N.”

“Maybe, but I’m just another player from the opposite team., right? …Do you think he…?”

Donghyuck brought a hand up to his head, massaging his temples as he sighed with annoyance.

“You’re too dense.”

“How could I have known? ”

“Look, just talk to him as soon as you can. That boy needs to finally sleep properly, even my grandma’s bag has a lighter color than his eye bags.”

You just nodded, a bit skeptic.

You were discharged on that same day. Jungwoo almost cried again when you met in the common room, hugging you tightly, praising and scolding you at the same time with a brotherly smile.

You first saw Mark Lee in the halfway, after your Potions class. He was sitting on the ledge of a large window, staring seemingly into space. Donghyuck’s words echo in your mind as you decide to approach him and hop onto the space beside him, settling comfortable against the window behind you.

“Woah, Lee, Donghyuck was right, you could really use some concealer.”

Mark jostled as if he only noticed you now. His wide doe eyes racked over your smiling face and he seemed to panic internally.

“Whe-When did you get here? Why are you out of bed?”

“Because I was discharged?”

“What? Since when?”

“Earlier today.”

“Oh…”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, eyes running wild everywhere but in your direction. You chuckled.

“It’s okay, I already know how much the almighty Mark Lee worried over poor little me.”

Mark scoffed, his embarrassed behavior vanishing. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I see that hit to your head didn’t help with your sharp tongue, disappointingly.”

He swiftly moved away, starting to walk away from you until your hand clasped around his wrist, stopping him mid step.

“Wait, I just… I wanted to thank you.”

Mark seemed confused now, turning back to you with furrowed eyebrows.

“Thank me? What for?”

“Standing up for me and uh, you know, taking care of me.”

Mark’s face darkened at the memory of your beater.

“That git was just asking for it and I barely did anything.”

“Then at least let me repay you for the chocolate frogs you brought me.”

Now he seemed to choke on a confused ‘huh?’ with a bewildered expression that just melted your otherwise cocky demeanor.

“W-what? How-”

Mark’s words died in his throat as you slotted your lips against his in a teasing kiss, your hand holding the nape of his next affectionately and pulling him closer you. Mark took a few moments to realize it was actually happening in reality, not just an illusion from the lack of sleep. His hands came up to your waist, wrapping you in his embrace and pulling you against him impossibly closer. Years of pushed down passion and longing were exchanged in that moment, dizzying both of you.

As you pulled away from each other for air, Mark could taste the faint sweetness of chocolate on his lips. He smiled and his whole rival image turned into a lovesick teenage boy with a smile brighter than the sun. He laughed quietly, thumbs caressing your sides gently.

“I see you enjoyed your chocolate.”

You leaned more into him, pulling his face so close to yours that your noses brushed against each other’s, your ravished breath fanning across his lips as you whispered.

“I did. I’m glad I’m so interesting to you that you observe me in class enough to know that I collect chocolate frogs cards.”

You expected a blush to paint his cheeks red, an elbow in your side or at least an annoyed huff but you got none of that. Instead, one of Mark’s hands came up to cradle your cheek as he stared deep into your eyes with an unreadable look.

“Excuse me but it’s hard not to look when I have the prettiest person I’ve ever seen who also happens to be my crush since 3rd year.”

Your eyes widened, searching his for any hint that he may be just lying or teasing you. But all you could find was pure, unadulterated fondness, a withheld fire burning low in his eyes. He leaned down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear and sending goosebumps across the expanse of your skin.

“It’s been so hard not to just pull you aside and snog you senseless, especially in your Quidditch uniform.”

You decided to play along. You brought your fingers to his heated neck, running them faintly over his skin and you smirked seeing him shiver at your touch.

“Having a kink for uniforms, Lee?”

Mark screeched lowly, pulling away from you as if burned. He smoothed down his robes, fixating you with a glare that made you laugh.

“Y/N, I’m serious, though. I like you, I really really lo-….like you.”

You noticed his stutter, but it only made your smile widen as you stretched out a hand to intertwine his fingers with yours and pull him along down the corridor.

“Hm, I’ll need some more proof of that.”

Mark squeezed your hand in response, chuckling at you sweetly. He leaned over, pressing a feather like kiss to your temple.

“Don’t worry, you’re nowhere done with your payment back to me. And I only accept it in the form of kisses and cuddles.”

You smiled at each other, your hearts finally settling satisfied in your chests after years of internal turmoil that finally burned out.

“That can be arranged easily.”

[xxxavo]

Sin getting upset bc he see’s Kouen flirting with his s/o (I mean they both already don’t like each other).So sins getting all alpha dog and is trying to get him to bck off

Requested by: anonymous

Warnings: A hint of verbal NSFW towards the end? (better known as...LIMEy) Not swear words but a few rude words? Idk

Suddenly getting back into Magi so might be a few imagines being thrown around here and there, depends on how long this lasts!! Feeling a NSFW scenario manifesting itself into my drafts after writing this, I won't lie, but no actual NSFW content today my little imuchakk's! Hope you enjoy!

Sinbad had always liked banquets, weather they be ones held in the kingdom of Sindria, or at his biggest rivals, the Kou empire. There was something exciting about the prospect of consuming alcohol in foreign lands after an important political meeting that made Sinbad feel on top of the world. It was rare for things in Sinbad’s life not to go his way, or to not end up leading towards something better then what he had lost. For this reason, King Sinbad was to an extent, a go-with-the-flow kind of man. Especially with loyal followers such as his generals and his beloved wife!

His beloved was of course very loyal, incredibly so...but, there were people who did not care for that loyalty of hers. This included a certain Kou empire red head who went by the name of Kouen.

“No need to look so sour, Sin.” Ja’far commented beside him, though he was enjoying the fact his King was abandoning his poor drinking habits to instead stay sober and focused, even if he was focusing on his wife and Kouen Ren flirting. “You told her to be pleasant and friendly towards Kouen to gain his favour. I don’t understand why you’re so jealous.” That was enough to make Sinbads eyes flicker from the generous laughter of his wife to the smug face of his right hand man.

“Me!? Jealous!?”

“Hmm.” Masrur agreed from the other side of Sinbad. The King’s neck practically snapped to the fanalis.

“Why would I, of all people, be jealous?”

“Because you’re wife is a smart, sophisticated lady who could do a lot better than a man who drinks sake and shamelessly prances around woman as if he was a young teen in his glory years.” Golden eyes met red ones in a baffled expression of offense.

“That’s a low blow, Ja’far.”

“Hmm.” Again, Masrur voiced his opinion rather humbly. Unlike the other two, Masrur had not taken his eyes away from the Queen, curious to see how her little game would play out; He loved how cunning she was.

The Queen, unlike Sinbad, was sensible. When he was busy hiding from Ja’far she was busy doing the work for him and cleaning up all his messes. Masrur liked how through thick and thin she stayed by Sinbad’s side whilst being the role model his country needed. She may as well have been a general. However, that didn’t mean she didn’t find herself sick of him sometimes.

Unfortunately old habits died hard. Sinbad was an infamous lady killer, flirting and charming any woman he deemed beautiful. No longer did he take it any further but Masrur could always see it in the Queen’s eyes whenever she got upset or jealous with his ministrations. As much as she tried to hide it, Masrur was a man who saw much, yet said very little.

The fanalis saw the way the cogs in her head turned the moment Sinbad had told her to “Gain Kouen’s favour in any way you can! I’m sure he’ll be much more linient with me if he enjoys the company of my other half” and the way she made sure her corset was on tighter and her breasts were pushed up higher only confirmed his supicions. Sinbad was about to get a very bitter taste of his own flirtatious medicine.

The Queen was, despite being middle aged, very beautiful. If she wasn’t married to King Sinbad, Masrur was certain many men would be throwing themselves at her feet. Kouen would possibly be one of those.

The next thing Masrur knew a grumpy Sinbad was pulling on his cheek, his gaze in the same direction as his. “What is it Masrur? What are they saying!? Surely you will stick by your King! Unlike this traitor—“

“Tsk.”

“Please Masrur. My wife could be in danger.” Sinbad dramatized. Masrur practically had to stop himself from commenting on how pathetic the King looked. “I need those fanalis ears of yours...”

“Fine.”

“Did you know, you’re my favourite?”

“I swear to Solomon Sinbad if you—“

Drowning out the advisor and the King, Masrur honed his attention on the Queen and Kouen who sat sharing a bottle of red wine.

“Oh no. No more for me please.” Just as Kouen was about to tip some more of the red liquor in her glass, the Queen politely bowed her head, fluttering her lashes. “My tolerance for alcohol isn’t the greatest thing in the world.”

“Oh?.” Kouen hummed, nodding in response before filling up his own. “I expected you to perhaps be a little more like you’re husband.”

“An old drunkard?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But is it not what you meant?”

“I—“ Kouen seemed at a loss for words for a second, perhaps embarrassed, but saved himself rather quickly without a hint of emotion on his face. “What I meant was, a lover of a banquet. Sinbad has attended many, I assumed you would have been more on par with him when it came to drinking and party games.”

The Queen watched Kouen take a sip of his wine, her lips pulling up into a soft smirk. “Something tells me Kouen if I was anything like my husband you wouldn’t want to be sat here with me.” Kouen was slow to place down his drink, his sharp eyes meeting Sinbad’s wife’s.

“Would you rather me sit elsewhere?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But is it not what you meant?” Now, it was his turn to smirk.

“I—“ With a soft laugh, the regal woman before Kouen grew flustered, picking up her glass and swirling the remaining wine contents around to allow her to look elsewhere. “You really are as they say Kouen. Quite an interesting man. I enjoy getting to know you.” Lifting up her head, the Queen rose an eyebrow, a smile now residing on her face. “Every word I say sinks in doesn’t it?”

“Your highness. If any man does not listen to you, does he really deserve to be in your presence? If my sisters were simply cast aside, I wouldn’t be so forgiving to the suitor who was to do that.” It was a lie, the Queen had heard of Kouen and his family sending off the young princess to he married to a King who wanted nothing more then a pretty face. Was there more to the story? Most likely. But was that the gist of it? Yes. However, to indulge both Kouen and continue to gain the nervous attention of her husband shuffling in his seat, the Queen sighed out gently.

“You’re close to your family...?” It was hard to hear the rest, Sinbad practically chewing off his own hand right beside Masrurs ear.

“What are they saying!?” Simply, Masrur shrugged. “Something about family.” It was no fun telling Sinbad everything. Groaning, Sinbad flopped back into his seat, picking up his wine with a pout.

“It doesn’t taste the same knowing at the end of the night she’s not going to be dragging me back to our room...”

“Who? Her highness?” The three men all turned abruptly to face Kogyoku, who smiled sheepishly. “I’m awfully sorry...” she stuttered out. “I didn’t mean to pry, I just came to say hello and over heard you talking."

Knowing that any ill intentions towards Kougyoku’s older brother would harm his reputation with the Kou empire, Sinbad put on his best charming smile, acting as though he wasn’t emotionally conflicted on the inside. “Ah Princess. What a pleasure to be seeing you again. Are you enjoying the banquet?” With a smile, the pinkette nodded her head.

“I am very much your highness. I hope you’re also enjoying yourself.” With that, her eyes flickered upwards to the Queen of Sindrian and the most influential man in the whole of the Kou empire. “It seems her highness is enjoying herself to. I’ve never seen Kouen so invested in somebody. It’s a real testimony to your wife.” Kougyoku was of course NOT JEALOUS. Not once had she imagined herself sat on Sinbad's lap as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear! Nether the less, she continued her façade, knowing that after all it was her duty.

”They’re so deep in conversation, I wonder what they’re talking about.” Her words aren’t helping the purple male.

“As do I...”

“Kouen seems so relaxed around her highness. They really do get along don’t they?” Was she trying to give him a heart attack?

With a delightful laugh Sinbad nodded before finally rising to his feet. "They do indeed. In fact I feel a little bit left out. Perhaps I should pau the two a visit. Excuse me Princess, I do hope of seeing you again soon." Lifting her hand to his lips, Sinbad placed a soft kiss to the back of her hand before walking towards his wife and that thing trying to take her away. The King of Sindria looked at peace with all around him as he strode over, all intentions of causing havoc and disrupting the calm atmosphere completely gone for his being. At least it looked that way. If it didn't, he wouldn't have been a good King.

The two at the table saw him coming before he arrived and where as Kouen greeted him with a cut nod, seemingly displeased he was interrupting his time with his wife, who simply sent him a passive smile.

"Ah Your highness." Not Sin, not Sinbad, not my King, not my love. Just your highness. "Me and Kouen here--" Yet they were on first name basis? "Were just discussing-- Hmmph!"

As done many times before by the womanizer, Sinbad encased the back of his wife's head, bringing her face towards his own and then slamming their lips together in a rather mighty display right in front of the red princes eyes. He made sure it lasted. And his Queen? Who was she to deny Sinbads advances? As usual she practically melted into his affectionate assault, fragile hands moving to clasp at Sinbad's robes in an attempt to lull him closer...but two could play at that game. Pulling back from his beloved, Sinbad made sure to smirk, staring into her eyes for a brief moment. It was his way of saying "I'll get you back for this".

The sexual tension was undeniable and Sinbad had hoped Kouen could sense her thighs rubbing together like he could, because that was the closest Kouen would get.

"Hm? Talking about what? I didn't quite catch that my Queen."

Meanwhile, back at Sinbad's table, Ja'far sighed in aggravation as he watched the scene Sinbad caused in absolute horror. "Honestly, this man really does test my patience! Can he not just let his wife butter up Kouen! If anything it benefits us!"

"Hmm."

"Just for one second, can he think about anything else other then his-"

"Dick?"

"I was going to say pride but that works too."

[capt-spooki3]

Hey hi hello, how are you doing, i miss you and am .5 seconds away from spamming all your work with likes and reblogs 💕☺️

So I've been thinking (uh oh).... Being close with Tommy and tubbo and telling them ur terrified to meet techno cause mans is so scary to you, and they tell him you're scared cause they're little shits. A d cut to like a few days later where you have to talk to him for smthn and he's making fun of youand teasing you relentlessly cause he knows you were visibly nervous to meet him, but he's being really nice besides the teasing. Thoughts? Interpretations?

You don't even have to respond, just know that I love you and your stuff and hope you have the best day because you deserve nothing less◖⚆ᴥ⚆◗

( ˘ ³˘)♥

am i positive if you're asking me for a fic? No, not entirely.

Am i going to write you one anyway because you're so sweet? Yes absolutely and now presenting:

My Unexpected Tutor

Platonic college au!Technoblade and Y/n

(plus besties with the rest of the sbi ofc 😌)

(Hope this is okay, i just took my own interpretation of it and changed it just a little👌)

Warnings: cursing, teasing, nervousness(idk)

3.3k works

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

With the final bell ringing and college classes ending for the day, you snatched up your bag and book you’ve read off and on that week before heading over to the courtyard that was near the on-campus dorms. Stopping by a vending machine first to grab a drink then seating yourself on a bench and getting comfortable while you wait for your company to arrive.

“Yeah! And that’s- HA! That’s when Wilbur just… oh!-” The nearing sound of Tommy’s voice cut off along with the softer laughing from Tubbo. You were very obviously engrossed in your book, but now you just feigned reading as you listen closely to the sound of slow footsteps nearing behind your bench. The two of them were horrible about being sneaky since you could easily hear hushed laughs as they desperately tried keeping each other quiet.

Right as you heard them stop moving, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself before turning around suddenly and lunging at them over the back of the bench with a half effort grab at Tommy’s extended hand, and yelling. Tommy screamed back, stumbling back a  few paces and Tubbo just stumbled before backing up to the bench and busted out laughing.

“Ey what the hell!” He scoffed despite not being able to hold back his growing smile, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll remember that bitch, I’m gonna get you back.” he walked over to you and sat on the other side of the bench, giving you a hard glare when you laughed a little bit though it was mostly from Tubbo’s hysterical laughter. He took a deep breath and calmed himself so he could jump over the back of the bench and sit between you and Tommy.

The two boys were your underclassmen, being freshmen while you were a sophomore. The three of you met in your coding class. You were there mostly to get your English degree and major in said area, but you figured while you had the opportunity you would take classes on things you didn’t know much about. There, you met Wilbur, a senior and Tommy’s oldest brother, and he helped you quite a bit with understanding bits of coding that were a bit too confusing for you at first and were quickly becoming friends with him. That was until Tommy entered the picture. First, you just saw him as Wilbur’s chaotic younger brother who just happened to be in the coding class as well but after some insisting that you get to know him from Wilbur, you hung out one weekend in the library. One weekend turned to two then almost every weekend once he introduced you to Tubbo as well and you all had become a true trio.

You got to know Tommy’s family pretty well. His single father, Phil, who was just like a second parent to you now, and Wilbur who acted just like the older brother you never had. You knew them well despite having known them all for less than a year. The only hang-up is when it came to Tommy’s other brother. You knew he had an actual name, but only knew him by his nickname since that’s what everyone referred to him by. That would be Technoblade. The two of you had a couple of literature classes together and the fact that he was only one grade above you, you’d figure that you could befriend him with ease. Now, it’s not like he was big and scary, he was more tall and lanky but he was smart and he had some vibe around him that just petrified you. You couldn’t ever build up the courage to be around him which made it quite an issue since you were best friends with his brother, though this wasn’t an issue you had ever brought up to any of them.

“So how did classes go for you guys today?” You asked as you pulled one of your legs up onto the bench and closed your book which you held close to your chest.

“Fucking shitty! I got a fuck ton of extra work, like I know it’s college and the weekend but let me live.”

“We got one essay to write, it’s two pages long.” Tubbo reiterated with a smile while Tommy grumbled and leaned his head back so he was looking up at the sky. “What about you Y/n?”

“It wasn’t bad, I don’t have any extra work other than a bit of coding to do. Oh speaking of, Tommy?” You reached your foot over and kicked his leg to get his attention, only continuing when he was looking at you. “Is Will gonna be free at all? ‘Cause I need some help with this stuff.”

Tommy perked up a bit, sitting up to get his phone out. “Oh you're right, I actually need help with it too.” He mumbled while texting and staring at the screen as he waited for a reply. “Uhh okay so he says… I’m visiting some friends so I won’t have time… blah blah uh but ask Techno, I heard he’s pretty good at coding. Nice! That’s perfect, you can just come over to my house and-”

“Ah, you know what- I actually think I’m okay.” You quickly interrupted him, pulling your laptop out of your bag to aimlessly scroll through the assignment you were given. “It can’t even be that hard I’m sure… I can figure it out.” You said with as much confidence as you could muster despite knowing full well you’ll be completely lost as soon as you try to start on the work.

“Come on, we both know that’s a lie, you're so shit at this stuff.” He said light-heartedly and watched you ‘work’. “Seriously, just come over. I’m sure Techno is good at this stuff, if anything we can pay him to do the work.”

“It’s fine- really. I think I’ll just wait for Monday, I can ask Wilbur for help then.” You closed your laptop, keeping your gaze on it for a moment before looking over at Tubbo and Tommy who were giving you both a puzzled look. “What?”

“You don’t…” Tubbo started to speak but Tommy pushed him back with an arm on the chest so he could lean over to look at you closer.

“You don’t have a crush on Techno, do you?” He said and squinted at them as if disgusted by the thought.

“What!? No!” You sat up taller and looked at him, baffled that he resorted to that.

“Well, then what the hell is the problem! Just come over and he can teach us!” 

“I just… he’s kinda…” You grew flustered and found a loss for good words as you realized you were going to admit this. “He’s scary.”

Tommy busted out laughing and wheezed hard, doubling over as he coughed and laughed some more, stumbling over words as he tried to talk but was laughing too hard. Even tubbo who was trying to hold back, joined Tommy which only made them bounce off each other in their hysterics.

“Wha- I’m serious! Do you two not think he’s intimidating!?” You looked at both of them desperately as you could feel the heat that had risen to your cheeks.

“He’s literally-” Tubbo’s laughter interrupted him. “He’s a nerd! How the hell is he scary?” He settled down a bit and nudged Tommy to get him to calm down too, luckily he got his fit of laughter out.

“Oh my god, no I’ve got to go home now.” He grabbed his backpack that had been discarded behind the bench and looked at you once more before laughing more. “Scared of Techno- oh my god. That's good, that’s a good one. Bye bitches!” He saluted both of you before running off.

“Tommy I swear to god if you tell anyone I will deck your shit!!” You stood up, holding your laptop in hand, to yell at him but just stood there defeated once he turned a corner around a building. Tubbo got up beside you, laughing as he put his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“I wish I could give him the benefit of the doubt… but he’s gonna tell Techno. And Wilbur. And Phil for sure.” 

“Yeah... I’m sure he will. I’m going to my dorm, I’ve got to call my mom.”

“Aww-” You put your hand over his mouth, but took it away as soon as he shut up so he wouldn’t lick your palm.

“Shut- I don’t wanna hear shit from you too. Anyway, get home soon and don’t get kidnapped.” You turned away to put your laptop and book into your backpack and zipped it up before pulling it over one shoulder. You looked back at Tubbo and put your fist up to him.

“I’ll kick them in the balls, don’t worry.” He laughed a little and bumped his fist to yours and walked backward a few paces, waving at you. “Tell your mom I said hi!”

You waved back at him and stood to wait and watch him walk off along the stone path until he was fully out of sight to make your way to your dorm, which was right in the courtyard area.

-

Monday came around and with the school day partially over, you made your way to your coding class. You of course didn't end up doing the assigned homework even though you gave it a good try and just decided to rely on Wilbur's help.

You walked into class and took in a deep breath, it was always cool and smelt of coffee since the teacher brewed a cup before your class every day. Making your way over to your usual computer you looked over to see Tommy sitting in your spot beside Wilbur and chatting to him. You guessed he heard you coming or saw Wilbur look your way because he looked back and grinned wide which never meant good.

"Ey look at who it is! Wonderful seeing you again, how was your weekend?"

"Fine." You said, looking down at him and kicking his foot. "I don't like how you're acting, what the hell did you do?"

He just feigned innocence and looked offended that you could assume such a thing. "Me? Me!?" He leaned forward, hand gracefully on his chest. "I cannot believe you right now, I'm hurt Y/n! Truly hurt."

You scoffed with an eye roll and sat on the other side of Wilbur since the seat was free. As soon as you set your bag down and went to turn toward the two, Wilbur was already facing you and leaning on the desk area for the keyboard in a way that looked like he needed to say something in secret.

"You good?"

He just waved you down and you leaned forward to listen. "You're not… actually afraid of Technoblade are you?"

"Tommy you little shit!" You jumped up, nearly hitting Wilbur but he moved back in time. Tommy laughed and fled to the other side of the room where he normally sat so you just grumbled and took your seat.

"Well?"

"Is no one else? He's intimidating, I feel like he'd call me out on all my insecurities if I inconvenienced him. And THEN he would hold me at knifepoint till I left him alone."

Wilbur snorted and hung his head as he softly laughed, you reached over and hit his arm before leaning closer to whisper. “I’m serious Wilbur! He scares me!”

He looked back up at you with the most amused look. “Come on, you can’t be friends with this family without knowing techno. Honestly. Talk to him today. You two have the same literature class at the end of the day right?” He asked as he sat up and leaned back into his chair to turn his computer on and log into the coding website.

“I mean yeah but- what does that have to do with anything.” You asked, but Wilbur didn’t reply as he just stared at his screen so you leaned forward to get into his peripheral vision. “Will, what does that have to do with anything? I’m not talking to him, I hope you know that.”

-

You were wrong. Nearing the end of your literature class, you sat there listening to the teacher while completely lost on the assignment. Usually, it wouldn’t be too much of an issue because you would just give it the best attempt you could and see where you messed up at the end to better understand the work. It wasn’t the best tactic but you liked it better than having to ask for help. But now, this was a big and grade-determining assignment, not one you could afford to flunk.

The class was given five minutes to start on or look over the work at the end of the class. You leaned back in your chair, staring at your paper at a loss, and listened to the sound of people moving around the class near you. You didn’t try to look up since you assumed it was friends going to sit together and gossip. That was until you noticed someone took the seat beside you and shuffled a bit closer. Pulling the paper away from your face to look, you froze instantly upon locking eyes with Technoblade who was smiling lightly. You had never seen him this close, the most notable thing was his dyed light pink hair that had grown out brown roots and you could even see in his smile how his top and bottom canine teeth were a bit longer than normal and looked like he had small fangs and tusks.

He pushed his glasses up before crossing his arms and leaning forward on his desk. “Hey so I know you’re terrified of me, but it looks like you’re having a bit of an issue.” You opened your mouth to speak but were just met with a loss for words and just averted your eyes, continually glancing back at him for a moment as you were unsure what to do. He snorted lightly, bringing his hand up to stifle his laugh, and cleared his throat. “Yeah sorry for bein’ so big and scary but I can help ya. Come one, show me what you are confused with Y/n.”

“You- you know my name?” You looked right at him finally to which he raised an eyebrow at you quizzically.

“Well yeah. Did you really expect me not to? You’re besties with both of my brothers and my dad loves having you over. I was just waiting for you to say hi to me.” He leaned back, fidgeting with a ring with his hands. “Didn’t think you’d actually be scared of me, thank Tommy for snitching. He talked about it all weekend.”

You groaned, leaning forward to run your hands over your face and sigh, swearing that you’d smack him once school was out.

“Oh shi-” You looked at Techno and he was checking the time on his phone. “Hey, class is about to end. You’re not gonna be busy are you?”

“Uh… not, no I’m not.”

“Great.” He got up, moving the desk back to its original place and trotting over to grab his bag, and looking back to you. “Get your stuff and meet me at the south entrance, we can work on it back at my house.” And without giving you a chance to try to object, he called to the teacher saying that he was going to leave a minute early to get his stuff together since he rented a locker a bit away from the classroom and the teacher waved him off.

Reluctantly, you went back to your dorm which was close to where you had class. You dropped off unneeded books and grabbed a granola bar from a box you kept in your room then headed toward the entrance Techno told you to meet him at. And of course, walking up the sidewalk to the doors you saw him there sitting on a bench with his bag beside him. He saw you and jumped up, waving you over to him as he started walking immediately. While you were still behind him, you sent a picture to Tommy, Tubbo, and Wilbur of him walking in front of you and adding the caption ‘i did it :P’. 

The two of you chatted while you walked through the neighborhood and despite light teasing on how scary he was, he was easy to talk to and you had a lot in common with him. It was a shame you hadn’t taken the initiative to talk to him before. In no time, you were walking through the door after him into the familiar home where Phil greeted you with a surprised but happy look and offered snacks which Techno graciously took before heading to his room.

To your surprise, Technoblade is the best tutor you have ever had. He is attentive and incredibly patient when trying to figure out where you are having struggles and he’s smart. Like he knows every single bit of what is supposed to be brand new information from the class. Not even two hours into him helping you, you understood the assignment completely and you both spent the next three hours sitting on his bed and working together. You joked with him and he held the same energy while keeping the focus on working and even swapped laptops with him to check it over for each other.

You broke your gaze from the endless lines of text on your laptop screen to look at the window and seeing the orange sky around trees and over top of houses that indicated the setting sun. “Oh my gosh!” You scrambled off the bed, carefully stuffing papers back into your bag. “I didn’t even realize what time it was- Technoblade thank you a million for helping me. I appreciate it so much, but I need to get back to my dorm! I promised my roommate I’d help her cook dinner tonight.” You grabbed your laptop off of the bed and put it into your bag, closing it all up quickly.

Slinging it over your shoulder and adjusting it, you turned to make your way out of the room but you were stopped by a tug and looked back to see Techno holding onto your bag and looking displeased. “Not yet.”

“Wha- I need to go though-”

“It’s a tradition in this house to hug anyone before they leave, you should know that from my dad.” He let go and opened his arms up to you.

You turned to him and tilted your head a little. “You’re joking…”

He just smiled smugly and waited. You glanced at the doorway but gave in and closed the bit of distance, hugging him to which he returned snugly and spoke softly to you. “You’re a good person. I’m glad to have gotten to know you and I hope you’ll come back. I promise I’m not all that bad.” With that, he slowly let go and patted your arm before gently shoving you toward the doorway and plopping down on his bed. “Have a good night!”

“Uh.. yeah, you too!” You said back, still surprised by the exchange. His words swam through your mind as you went to leave the house, hugging Phil on your way out and wishing him a good night as well. Finally checking your phone on the walk home, you found a supportive and proud text from Wilbur, a dirty joke from Tommy, and something in between from Tubbo.

You laughed to yourself, amused by the differences in the messages. It was times like these that you most found appreciation for the three. Mentally you had to correct yourself though. The whole family was good. This you can say for sure now.

[unwrittenlibrary]

airport love confession w steve for drabbles?? like reader is about to get on a plane and leave and steve is racing through the airport to get to her in time and tell her how he feels🥺

Wherever You Stray

yesyesyes STEVE!!!!! 🥺

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

You could see why all the poems of unrequited love wrote it so painfully. Why they had described it as hearts being torn from chests and air being pulled from your lungs.

Steve Rogers had taken a piece of your heart and you couldn’t bare to watch him take it all the way back to the 1940s with him. Back to her.

You swallow thickly at the thought. When Steve had mentioned seeing Peggy when he and Tony had ended up on that army base, it was like you physically saw him slip through your fingertips.

It was your fault though, wasn’t it? Falling in love with Steve when half the population had been wiped away and the only thought anybody had was finding a new normal. Falling in love with him and never telling him, never explaining how his voice was your calm and his presence made your panic subside.

Would it have changed anything though? You think as you stare at the airport gate. Airports were crowded these days, families trying to find their way home and people trying to find their loved ones again. No. You know it wouldn’t have.

Steve had loved one woman in all his life and they had created a way to bring him back to her. A way to give him the life he desperately craved.

You wipe away the stray tear that’s fallen in the midst of your consuming of these thoughts. Your phone has texts from Sam, Bruce and even Clint, all urging you to tell him.

You wonder what they had told Steve about your absence. If they had told him the truth or if they had made up a pretty lie that calmed his nerves about one of his best friends disappearing before he went back in time.

“Now boarding fight 579 to San Diego.” A voice calls over the speaker. You take a deep breath as you stand. A fresh start sounded nice. The beach and palm trees seemed like the perfect place.

As you fall in line behind most of the other passengers you begin to wonder Steve had ever felt anything for you. If he hadn’t been forced to that army base if he would have stayed.

“Hey!” You ignore the voice, assuming it’s for another passenger as you wallow in your thoughts. “Excuse me. Sorry. I’m not cutting you, I’m trying to-“

“-Is that Captain America?” A voice calls out and your head snaps up to investigate it.

Steve is hastily pushing through the crowd of passengers. Steve in his ridiculous time travel outfit and still the same young Steve you had seen that morning.

“Just Steve Rogers.” He answers politely. His height gives him an advantage as he freezes in the middle of the crowd and his eyes scan in search of you.

You can only stare with wide eyes until the woman behind you shoves your shoulder lightly and you’re forced to move forward. “Go!” She groans.

You move forward on autopilot, completely baffled by Steve’s appearance and unable to do anything but follow the line. You can feel when Steve’s eyes land on you. His intense stare burning through your head as you continue to move up in line.

Three people in front of you. You glance over your shoulder and find Steve pushing through the crowd again.

Two people in front of you. His eyes are determined and don’t move from you. You feel heat on your cheeks and the back of your neck as he stares.

One person. Steve is only a few feet away. He smiles at kids who stare up in awe and politely nods in greeting to the people calling out Captain America.

“Ma’am?” Your head snaps to look at the woman in front of you. She’s wearing a confused smile as she waits for you to step forward. “Your ticket?”

A hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you off of the line. Your eyes move from his chest to his face and you can only stare with your mouth agape.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks completely exasperated.

“What… What are you doing here?” They’re the only words you can get out as you stare at him absolutely perplexed.

He was supposed to be getting that dance with Peggy Carter. Why was he standing in the middle of JFK with you?

“Why are you leaving?” He asks softly. “I… You weren’t there when we all met at the time machine.”What a ridiculous name, you think. Time machine seemed far too simple for what Tony had created.

“I… Why are you here?” You ask again. “I thought you were going back in time.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows at you. Your fingers twitch, wanting to reach up and smooth out the lines on his forehead like you had for so many years when it was just you and him. You try to force back your tears.

“I did.” He says slowly. “To put the stones back. I went looking for you afterwards and Bucky said you were on a plane. What the hell? Why would leave without a goodbye?” You open your mouth and he shakes his head. “Why would you leave?”

You lick your lips nervously. “Last boarding call for flight 579 to San Diego, California.” You turn to look at the now almost empty gate. There were only a few more people left in line to board. “Steve that’s my-“

“-Why are you leaving?” He asks again. His voice is firmer this time. “I…” He trails off.

You shake your head. “You said… I thought you were staying with Peggy.” You whisper. Your head is spinning and you’re unable to connect the dots. Why was Steve here? Why had he chased after you?

“Staying with…” His hands come up to cup your cheeks. “Why would I stay with Peggy?”

You pull one of his hands away from your face and narrow your eyes. “You said… You said you saw her when you and Tony were on that base. That you saw her and you finally realized what you had to do.”

Steve’s shaking his head before you even finish. There’s a smile on his face that you can’t return because he’s leaning in and kissing you.

Steve is kissing you. Steve is… Your eyes widen before they close and you’re kissing him back. Your hands come up to rest on his chest and one of his grips your hip.

When he pulls away he doesn’t go far. Close enough he can speak in a whisper. “It made me realize I’ve moved on. That I have a life here. With Sam. Bucky. You.” He emphasizes. “A life with you where instead of dancing you take me to movies in the park and show me how to use IPhones.”

“You know how to use your phone.” You shake your head with a short laugh. “What are you saying?” You think you know by now, the confused fog clearing from your head, but you’d like to hear the words.

“I love you.” He smiles. “Not Peggy. She had her life. She lived it. She told me to live mine and I want to. With you.”

“With me?” You ask a little breathlessly. Steve nods and a smile breaks out on your face. “I love you too.”

Steve lets out a sigh of relief that makes you giggle. “No California?” He glances up at the now closed door. Boarding for the flight finishing while you were busy swapping I love yous.

You nod. “Not unless we’re going together.”

“I could use a vacation.” Steve slips your bag from your shoulder and move it onto his. When he wraps an arm around your shoulder, you return it with one around his waist and he begins to guide you towards the exit. “Especially one with my favorite person.”

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

okokok this was my first time writing steve i hope you liked it!! i love the airport love confession trope! thank you for sending this in 🥰

[onyxheartbeat]

Dear HIM/Ville Valo fans,

this is a long post but I must discuss this.

________

I came across this interview of Kat Von D from a few days ago. Before I get into my thoughts, below is a passage from her old book “Go Big or Go Home” which you may or may not have read. She wrote about Ville:

________

“I only knew his music, and I loved it on first listen. It was dark and it was beautiful. It was metal and it was poetry. It was love loaded into a gun, and I wondered about the man behind the songs.  Two years later, our paths crossed, and like the majority of the connections I’ve made in life, tattooing brought us together. Through our first tattoo sessions, we began to get to know each other. For the next few years, I just thought of him as my friend from overseas, and that was all. Then, after knowing him for six years, something changed. It could have been the wine, the music, or the moon. Most likely it was just perfect timing. Just one kiss, and he changed my world. We were both sad back then, and lost. I was depressed, having finally ended a marriage that had been doomed from the beginning. I was also dealing with the pressures of filming a television show, which was totally new to me - and drinking my way blindly through it all. His story mirrored mine, and he had been feeling just as low. We had been waiting for something to happen, for someone or something to come along and save us from ourselves. And when it suddenly seemed that that someone was each other, it took us both by surprise. We shared darkness, and doing that bought light back into our somber worlds: for once, we didn’t feel alone.He’s the reason why I wanted to write music to begin with - and learn to sing. I remember the exact moment I made up my mind about making music. It was something I felt I needed to do, not for any reason other than a way to respond to him. It didn’t matter if the songs I’d write never saw the light of day, as long as he was able to listen to my music, my message to him. He had told me to look for a package at my door step, prefacing the delivery of the contents, his new album, saying, “These are all of the things that are easier sung than said.”I knew what he meant, but never imagined that each song would be filled with direct messages to me. I put the album on, and the music rushed out of the speakers and filled my house. His voice rang all around, making it’s way to the core of my heart with every word he sang. As cryptic as those lyrics may have been for anyone else, I knew exactly what each word meant and recognized every event and place he referred to. The songs were so beautiful, I just wished so badly that he could have said everything out loud just once to me. How should I respond to something like this? Where do I even start?The first time I saw him after I got sober, he was in town working on music. We sat in my office at the shop until the late hours of the night, talking and catching up about everything - music, home, art and work. Did we talk about love? No. We constantly danced around our past instead. What happened to us? I couldn’t find the courage to ask because I was scared of the answer I already knew. We decided to draw, with pencils and paper in front of us, we sat at opposite ends of the table. He pulled my three-minute timer from one of the nearby shelves, and placed it at the center of the table. He suggested we draw each other, and I was game. With a flip of the hourglass, the grains of sand moved from one vessel to the other, and we began.Sketching these timed portraits forced us to stare at each other, making it practically impossible to focus on the drawing itself. I had almost forgotten how beautiful his face was. He has a combination of eyes, lips, and a darkness to his looks that makes him look almost otherworldly. With him, I felt like I was at the center of an orderly, tranquil, magnificent universe. For those short three minutes, there were no questions about life or purpose. It was as if we never needed any more from each other than this.Like all people, I’ve suffered from love sickness and tasted the pain of love. The theatrical director of my mind, the one who staged all these versions of him and my life with him, seemed to be unaffected by reason. I was finding myself constantly day dreaming of the past.His eyes, his hands, his crooked smile - I’d ruminate over his features. Things he said. Things he did. Things he wrote. Things he drew. Things he sang. Over and over again, I’d sift through these images and memories as if they somehow contained the answer to my prayers. But I was living with a long-age memory of him; living so far away from the present moment.If we had spoken about what we were or what we thought we were, back when we got sober, I wouldn’t have been so confused, wandering what if, and writing the rest of our story in my mind. What did I expect? For him to magically not hear about me being in a relationship? And to not be bothered by it? If only he would have asked….. I would have….. If we could have only talked….. then things would be….. if we allowed ourselves to transform our fears of being open, vulnerable, then, I’d convince myself, we would be together. I realized that none of that mattered now. If I wanted to be free of this unrequited longing, I would have to make peace with the past and finally let it go. There was no way around it. But did I want to be free of it? - and him?I listened to one of his songs the other day. Out of all the songs he wrote on that album, this one was the most direct. He sings my name in the chorus. By the time the song is over, I’ve felt a range of emotions - I’m sad but happy, frustrated but calm. He sings about how I alone bring him to a place of stillness and peace within when we are together. What a victorious feeling - to enter into a place with him where no one else has been. To be able to bring goodness to and draw it out of someone. Those sweet thoughts were interrupted by  an e-mail from him. Impeccable timing as always. It’s just a short note, letting me now he’s somewhere out there, thinking of me. He ends the message by calling me “Star Face” - his pet name for me from long ago that no one else uses. At that moment, I loathe him for it. I loathe him because I love him. Sometimes it feels like it would be so much easier to walk away from this if he’d just tell me that he hates me, that he wants nothing to do with me. But instead he calls me “Star Face.” There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not letting go, either.‘Ultimately, it is the desire, not the desired, that we love.’The silver plane hurtled over Newfoundland, over the Labrador sea. Someone told me I might see the northern lights as I fly east and north, but I wouldn’t have noticed as I was deep in writing the letter that I had already mentally composed long before I decided to make this trip to see him over New Year’s Day. I didn’t have to edit myself this time, I knew exactly what the letter would say.I reread the note to myself before sealing the envelope. Then I drew out the first letter of his name in pencil on the front. What a beautiful letter it was, probably my favorite out of the entire alphabet. A letter I was so used to writing myself. With ease the swirls and curves of each arch seemed to flow from my heart, my mind’s eye, drawn in and through my arms to my hands, releasing themselves onto the pale ivory paper envelope. My plane landed soon after.I had missed this country, I had missed him, too. I wondered how time had treated him ,for it had been a few years since I had last seen him. I wondered if I still had the ability to quiet his heart when he was feeling manic. He always said I had a way of doing that when I was near. And I wondered if he even needed me in that way anymore.When we met up, he looked just as beautiful as the day we saw each other for the first time, almost ten years before. And as if no time had passed, we started right where we left off - hours flew by in the comfort of each other’s presence. Talking. Catching up.He asked if I was getting sleepy, and my attempt at concealing the tiredness was transparent. I looked at the clock; maybe it was the jet lag or the clock hands pointing to midnight, but I knew it was time to say good-bye. Reluctantly, we both stood up and tried our best to part ways. As good as it felt to be near him again, I gave him the letter I had written letting him know that I was letting the nation of us go. He took the sealed envelope, and then I watched him walk away for what I assumed would be the last time.My heart didn’t belong locked up in a tower across the ocean from my home. It belonged in my chest, beating, living, feeling, sometimes hurting, but always loving. I deserved to be free, and understanding and needing that more than a dream, I was finally able to let him go.”

_________

Now, let me start by saying, I’ve never understood this and I still don’t. I’ve had that passage saved in my drafts for years because I keep almost anything pertaining to Ville. 

I’ve been a HIM fan since I was about 15 years old, and have followed Ville’s life and work closely. The friendship between them was always apparent to HIM fans in those days, because we saw her in photos with the band often. I used to watch Miami Ink and LA Ink as regularly as pretty much anyone in those days, and I remember when this particular passage of her book was brought to light, the HIM fan base read it and we all had our thoughts. We were all aware of Screamworks being written about Kat (it’s obvious in the lyrics of the album) even though Ville never specifically said Kat’s name when asked about it in interviews.

I remember being baffled back when we as HIM fans discovered this passage from the book. I couldn’t imagine not making that relationship work if it was true love. I’m a bit biased because I adore Ville and he’s like a dream to me, but I just couldn’t understand it. It seemed like she took the relationship for granted or she didn’t love him enough to make it work; but I digress. I get it; love and relationships are complex.

Still, flash forward to this recent interview (the screenshot), she says it was unrequited love, and I’m still not understanding it. Why release all the songs now? Why didn’t she make it work if it was true love? Who is she trying to say was the one not reciprocating (as the word “unrequited” suggests) in the relationship? I don’t understand any of it. More than anything, I’ve had so many questions that I wish I could ask Ville about it all because he only spoke briefly about it all, and it was always rather cryptic. 

I’m only writing this as a HIM fan, and because I love Ville and his lyrics on Screamworks so, so much (it’s an extremely underrated album in the HIM discography, in my opinion) so I’m letting any fellow HIM lovers know she wrote an album in response to it, in case you’re interested. I haven’t followed Kat or her work in many years, so I don’t know what to make of all this, but it’s always been extremely apparent to me when listening to Screamworks that a lot of heart went into it and even pain, not that his lyrics on other albums aren’t like that too, but I felt it more on Screamworks. I feel that Ville was the one who was truly heartbroken.

You all probably know from following my blog that I’m obsessed with love and unrequited love. Any romantic stories, bittersweet letters, heartbreak, longing etc. is just my favorite thing in the world so please excuse the long post, haha.