#IVER BETRAYED YOU ALL

[thealternatemind]

[Image Description: A competition banner showing Gideon Nav and Harrowhark Nonagesimus, from the book series The Locked Tomb, versus Spock and James Kirk, from the TV series Star Trek, versus Caleb Widowgast and Essek Thelyss, from the Campaign Two: The Mighty Nein of Critical Role. End ID.]

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

GUILTY AS SIN...? - PART II

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

pairing: cillian murphy x popstar!reader

word count: 9.1k

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

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

part one

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

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

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

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

It's all so delicate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How pathetic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was so easy, existing with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Close to the drinks. Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We even had a record deal and everything."

"What happened?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where do I need to be?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What almost happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," you breathed out.

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

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

"Fuckin' incredible."

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was going to end you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[changbinsboobs]

Do you think any of skz has potentials of becoming yandere or like obsessed in general?!

Omg i can't believe what just happened Tumblr deleted my whole Chan reading i habe to do it all over again😭😭😭😭😭 and i don't have the cards anymore😭 i fucking hate it here😭

Who in Skz has a potential of becoming obsessed?

Chan - his reading was so long im so angry😭 what i said was basically how he has a lot of responsibilities and things to do that have way more weight and importance for him so there's not enough time or space in his mind to even begin obsessing iver other les simportants tuff. Even if he would he would quickly be taken out of it as more importants stuff already knocks on the door. Aside from that his job is actually a great outlet for him and despite him being very perfectionistic and a workaholic which in itself is not healthy - this card still points out how music and creativity is what brings him pease and is a source of release for him so i kinda get him why he's so focused on work and drowns himself so much into it - because for him its not work its his peace, its his joy, his relief. So yeah not seeing any potential for becoming obsessed or yandere cuz he has an outlet to channel any unwanted emotions and he also has many other much important things to take him out if other spirals he might come into so he doesn't even get the chance to become obsessed.

Lee Know - for him im not getting that either. He also has better things to do. He knows bery well what brings him joy and how to put himself back on track and regulate his emotions to stabilize himself. I don't see anything going out of control, spiraling, or whatever. Also if he were to be rejected, instead of going after that thing/person even more, hold grudges etc - he's more someone that stays in the shadows, takes it like a champ, cries on his own, oats himself on the back and continues on, maybe with some hurt inside him still but he goes on not really looking like it affected him. And soon the hurt gets relieved too, instead of it he fills himself with good things and soon the hurt is forgotten. In short - he accepts his fate and moves on. Not seeing anything about dangerous obsession.

Changbin - not seeing anything like that with him either. Spoiler alert - not seeing that with any of the guys actually. But for changbins case he does ponder on things more, probably takes much longer for him to swallow rejection, or abandonment or similar. He does think of it a lot, may even get gloomy or depressed for a little while. If we're talking about obsession in terms of not being able to get something out of your head then yeah he shows that definitely. But nothing that exceeds the mind and turns into action, also nothing harmful or dangerous in any way. He just thinks about what ifs and analyzing what went down, why it happened like that, etc. He always finds himself at the end tho, and finds peace and stability within himself and finds love and joy around him, often hurts like that fueling him even further for life, making him feel even stronger and more determent to be even bigger and even better.

Hyunjin - not seeing that with hyunjin either. Im seeing childish wonder and disappointment next to each other. I believe this means his naivety and readiness to jump into things and love fast and easily is often a source of depletion and disappointment for him. Either he becomes disappointed cuz whatever he liked isn't actually the way he thought and his expectations aren't met, or whatever attachment he felt wasn't reciprocated. For that im seeing victim complex and visciousness in terms of coping so instead of becoming obsessed and dangerous he rather becomes bitter and maybe even a bit hateful for a period of time towards that person or situation, being sharp and merciless with his words, holding tight onto the feeling that he was wronged and betrayed, being a victim of someone heartless that now deserves to bear the heaviness of his disappointment and wrath. Despite that not sounding very not-obsessive, the energy here doesn't seem really dangerous or malicious. Its more annoying that dangerous (if you're on the receiving end).

Han - here is the only...concern i had. The energy isn't very heavy, theres not any...dangerous action per say...but this is the only pile where i feel malisciousness in any way. Where theres potential that it COULD get to an extreme. Thats the only pile that gows beyond the mind or beyond words and im actually seeing readiness for action. This tho touches more on anger rather on anything and as for the most the heavy emphasis was on romantic relationships, here im not seeing that at all. Im seeing him wanting revenge on people that have disrespected, wronged, ridiculed him etc. he wants them to pay the price for their wrongdoings and is ready to take it in his own hands or leave someone else taking care of it for him. Now if thats something he just wants to do in a moment of anger or if he really has potential to take revenge in his own hands is unclear and i think ill leave it like that. Going back to the initial question - this doesn't give yandere vibes, maybe not even obsession - it just gives innability to regulate anger properly (honestly i feel u buddy) and maybe even overreacting with his anger in that sometimes its something small t he gets a huge tantrum and is ready to fight and its reslly inappropriate. Or something happens in 2022 and for some reason he failed getting angry back then so he carries his anger all this this time and suddenly this issue gets brought up again in a completely normal manner and "out of nowhere" he bursts out in an angry outrage and throws a tantrum. Or is continuously viscious towards someone for no apparent reason because once 10 years ago that person made a comment about his new haircut that he didn't like and he felt vulnerable and he's been making that person pay for the last 10 years cuz it hurt him so much back then. - all of those were just made up examples to describe what i mean by paying back, holding on grudges etc.

Felix - No. Not at all. He takes it all like a champ and i see him looking for support and connection with the people around him and he balances himself out like that, im also seeing him having some sort of innate yin and yang balance in him, in the way that he has of both good and bath, in a perfect balance. Idk how to explain that energy as it is so unique but in short im not seeing bad intentions, obsessive dangerous tendencies or anything. He seems very connected to the divine and has an innate compass of wrong and right, can regulate himself pretty quickly IF the crowd he's surrounded with is good (which for now im seeing it is). And any rejection or hurt or whatever that happens - he takes like a champ.

Seungmin - not seeing that here either, although he's not really answering my question. He says he's graceful and a respectable gentleman (im seeing bridgerton men😂) He says he's a lover and theres no usw for him to act crazy or be maliscious. He's of good value and he can get himself somethign good with ease so theres no use waisting prescious time and energy, lowering himself beyond his own standards.

I.N - not seeing anything like that either. He seems very peaceful and stable despite what. He has a strong, secure and very stable inner core that can not be shaken easily. He has a very positive and uplifting attitude towards life and himself and chooses to see the positive rather than the negative. He actively chooses good and maintains and builds this beliefs and this huge fort he's standing on. Build with trust and smiles and laughter. Those are very very positive, good & stable cards idk what else to add i really don't see anything of that sort with him. Not even potential for that. Not even potential for thinking about it even i think doesn't understand that at all how some people can get themselves to a point where they act like that.

[moneyloverspender]

As you lifted the cigarette to your lips, the wisps of smoke dancing in the frosty air, a voice broke through the quiet of the night.

"I thought you said you quit?" The voice, unmistakably Captain Levi's, cut through the stillness, drawing your attention.

You turned slightly, catching his approach from the corner of your eye. "Hey, I tried, okay? Besides, might as well enjoy life while it lasts."

Silence enveloped the space between you, punctuated only by the chilly breeze that swept through. The moon cast a soft glow, illuminating the scene before you.

"You thought it was me... Didn't you?" Your question hung in the air, the weight of it palpable as you met Levi's gaze for a fleeting moment before taking another drag of your cigar.

Levi's response was measured, his words carefully chosen. "I suspected everyone."

Your lips formed a tight line, disappointment mingling with resignation. "Well, that wasn't actually my question, Captain Levi. I asked if you thought that the Female Titan was me."

There was a pause, mind filled with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

"Forget I asked. Have a goodnight, Captain Levi" you muttered, discarding the cigar and crushing it beneath your boot. You turned to leave, but Levi's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"I did suspect it was you at first, Y/n. I had my reasons. But now that we know who it is... I'm sor—"

"Don't apologize," you interjected, your tone firm yet tinged with a hint of sadness.

Levi's gaze faltered, unable to meet yours as you turned away. Tilting your head back, you found solace in the glow of the moon above, its luminescence a stark contrast to the turmoil within.

"... Don't worry, Captain. I assure you I won't be a threat to your beloved humanity," you murmured, a flicker of defiance in your voice.

"I was scared, L/n," Levi confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You spun around, eyes widening in disbelief at his admission. "Scared? Of What?"

"That if I was right, that it would be you," Levi continued, the weight of his guilt evident in his words. "That of all people it would be you.

Your brows furrowed, confusion and disbelief warring within you. "And why is that? "

"Because I've grown fond of you, more that I thought I would."

His stoic demeanor softened slightly as he confessed, a rare vulnerability flickering in his eyes. His usually impassive face betrayed a hint of uncertainty, his gaze seeking reassurance from her as he laid bare his feelings.

She felt her composed facade falter for a moment, a subtle blush gracing her cheeks as Levi's confession caught her off guard. Despite her disciplined exterior, her eyes betrayed a hint of flattered surprise, mirroring Levi's vulnerability with a flicker of understanding.

[riiverstyyx-blog]

Fred Weasley x GN!Reader

In which Fred Weasley lives to tell your story; a tragedy full of betrayal, amusement, and most importantly, love.

Warnings: Harry Potter, Suicidal/self-harming actions, Parental/family abuse, Death, 

Song: Rosyln, Bon Iver & St. Vincent

Had you been in a better mindset, you may have realized how utterly horrible it was to smile whilst listening to the heart wrenching screams and pleads of those kneeled around you. More so the prayers of the one holding you.

Some part of you was furious. How could you - a Pureblood Slytherin - allow yourself to stoop so low? How could you betray your family and your own life for something as pitiful as love? But as you recall the moment your eyes fell onto his in your second year, you seem to understand.

The familiar calm and collected common room was quick to fill with panic as the dung-bomb exploded right beside Malfoy. You weren’t given long to focus on that as you felt a warm hand intertwine with your own, tugging you through the door and into the hallway.

Fred and George’s laughter echoed as we escaped the scented cage, and although you were confused, your laughter was soon intertwined.

“So, what’s this about, Freddy?” George had asked, his eyes gesturing toward you as they slowed to a stop.

Fred grinned, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as he shrugged. “I dunno. I suppose I thought it was time to get a pet snake.”

Your lips parted to retort, but as your eyes met, all anger seemed to fade. A flush is quick to rise as your turn away, pushing the red-head off and stalking away.

From that moment forward, it felt as if there were an invisible string that held you two together. Rarely would you find one without the other, and no matter how much your family punished you, you never changed this habit.

You knew you would do anything to see the crinkle of joy fill that silly Gryffindor's eyes.

The foggy film that entered your eyes faded momentarily as the memory did.

Is this what they meant when they said ‘your life flashes before your eyes’? Perhaps that is why you see nothing but ginger, rather than the slur of curses received from your own blood.

A familiar hand cradled your cheek. He was so warm, and to him, you were already freezing cold.

Despite himself, he continued to whisper words filled with hope - it was as if he thought you too would survive the killing curse if he imbued you with words of his own love. But, as time seemed to resume and his mother’s hand fell onto his shoulder, he realized he likely had loved you enough to escape death, only one of you was that lucky.

There was a momentary urge to curse the boy who lived. To blame Harry Potter for you inability to withstand death, but you knew he was already blaming himself for much more. 

Your anger turned into pity.

You had wanted to die for so long, but staring death in his solemn eyes shattered whatever solid pieces of you remained.

The inability to feel emotion stunted you, that was until the dullness turned to fear.

Warm hands slipped from your limp body, soon after being replaced by the delicate yet bony grasp of death cradling your soul - your being.

You could feel terror, and you could feel relief.

He whispered apologies, his words eloquent and his hands gentle.

Death is a caring creature, you realize. One most fear, and some crave, and despite both of these, Death is alone.

Perhaps, you thought, you could change that. You could await your lovers arrival - that is, if he remains yours, and let Death enjoy the comfort of an old friend.

As if sensing your thoughts, his bony hand intertwined with your own as you watched Molly drag Fred away from your corpse, tears dampening his freckled face.

Although it may have been a trick of they eyes, you were positive that your eyes met through the barrier of life, and all you could do was say four words.

“I’ll wait for you.”

[seeingivy]

aot characters as specific taylor swift songs 

**an: based on this post by @crazychaoticizzy - I just had to pick the songs for the albums that you picked bc they were so perfect :DDD 

- 

erwin smith a place in this world - from debut

seemed like a no brainer, erwin gives country vibes 

like idk how to explain it but he would wear cowboy hats, and cowboy boots, and out of taylor’s discography he would be THE country album

erwin from texas agenda

“don’t know what’s down this road, i’m just walking / im just walking / trying to find a place in the world”

historia reiss the way I loved you - from fearless

right. 

miss fearless for SURE 

this is pregnant historia s4 who deserved a happy ending w/ ymir’s SONG SPECIFICALLY

cuz I know that farmer has 0 heat, esp compared to the love of my life ymir 

“he says you look beautiful tonight / and I feel perfectly fine / but I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain / it’s 2 am and i’m cursing your name / so in love that I acted insane but that’s the way I loved you” 

hange zoe mean - from speak now

idk just gives hange vibes

like they would LOVE to scream this song and air out their frustrations yk?? esp season 4 exhausted hange 

but hange does things on their own terms!!! hence the song 

“I bet you got pushed around / somebody made you cold / but the cycle ends right now / cause you can’t lead me down that road”

mikasa ackerman - sad beautiful tragic from red

so, basically any song on red. like the urge to pick all too well for the scarf line was too powerful 

BUT I had to pick this one cuz it’s so eremika it hurts

my red baby she is just like me fr 

“and time / is taking it’s sweet time erasing you / and you’ve got your demons / and darling they all look like me / cause we had a beautiful magic love affair there / what a sad beautiful tragic love affair” 

sasha braus - new romantics from 1989 

similar to 1989, sasha is all vibes, no skips, no emo crap

so, I had to pick the highest energy, scream at the top of your lungs, stick your head out the window song WHICH was the new romantics, obv. 

but song is just good vibes, makes u wanna dance which is very sasha I feel 

“and every day is like a battle / but every night with us is like a dream / we are too busy dancing, to get knocked off of our feet / the best people in life are free” 

levi ackerman - look what you made me do from reputation 

duh. 

may I quote that one scene where levi promises to kill zeke for erwin? yeah? yeah. 

also just has the whole revenge, justice thing in his vibes idk 

“the world moves on another day, another drama drama / but not for me, not for me, all I think about is karma / and when the world moves on, there’s one thing for sure / maybe I got mine but you’ll all get yours” 

connie springer - death by a thousand cuts from lover 

ok so

picked this song cuz baby connie just KEEPS GETTING BETRAYED  

let him rest. leave him alone. let him keep his friends. 

also sasha connie coded sorry I just know he’s stuck on things like this - sasha, his mom, eren 

“cause I can pretend it’s okay when it’s not / saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts / but if the story’s over, why am I still writing pages?” 

armin arlert - this is me trying from folklore 

I don’t even have to explain this one

like rlly, I don’t 

“they told me all of my cages were mental / so I got wasted like all my potential / I just wanted you to know / that this is me trying” 

reiner braun - evermore ft. bon iver from evermore 

WOOP

evermore will be post-war reiner’s jam like he finally gets to have his peace after struggling for so long 

specifically the lyric change from “this pain would be for evermore” to “this pain wouldn’t be for evermore” bc reiner finally gets to live in peace 

eren yeager - you’re on your own kid from midnights 

was gonna pick anti-hero, because he, in fact, is the problem

but you’re on your own kid, just his SONG. 

“I looked around in a blood soaked gown and saw something they can’t take away / so make the friendship bracelets / take the moment and taste it / you’ve got no reason to be afraid / you’re on your own kid, you always have been” 

[asherloki]

Can you write an angsty fic using inspiration from the song exile by Taylor Swift ft. Bon Iver? Specifically for Marc Spector. Thanks alot! Keep writing 😘

Exiled without you

Marc Spector x reader

Word count:- 599

Angsty

A/n:- you guys are amazing. I love all these ideas.

You watched everyone clapping for both you and your boyfriend, David. Well fiance now, he just proposed you infront of all your family and acquaintances. And apparently you said "yes". Why won't you? He's a good man, he understands you, he is everything you could've ever asked for, he loves you dearly. But do you? did you truly loved him or you loved the way he loved you. Because all the time your family clapped for you you watched just one person from the corner of your eye. Marc Spector, your ex, although David doesn't know that, he thinks he's just a friend.

You saw him standing a little far from everybody, clapping, fake clapping rather, his gaze piercing your heart, as if you betrayed him, but did you? you'll never know.

After the engagement you talked with everyone of his family and friends, trying to know them better. Marc still stood far, watching you, slipping out of his hand. It's not new to you, none of you previous relationships lasted. It felt like watching a film you've watched before and the ending never been appreciated by you.

A few minutes later when you were laughing with your fiance you heard people screaming 'stop, leave him' at someone, both you and david ran to see what's going on. To your horror, Marc was beating David's brother.

"Marc" you shouted at him before running into the fight and standing before Marc, shielding your would be brother in law, "I said STOP IT".

Your anger made him stop hurting him. You knew he won't Speak a word infront of people, so you took him by his wrist and turned to David, "I'm talking to him, alone about it, hope you understand".

"ofcourse, don't worry about it darling" he nodded.

You took Marc a little far and asked, "what happened? what the hell were you doing?".

"you're going to be his sister in law, only if you heard the words he said about you" he said. You had the idea your brother in law doesn't quite likes you.

"I don't wanna know what he said, he's not David, he doesn't matter" you replied.

"but he has no fucking right to talk such nonsense about you" Marc shouted the last words. And his anger, his passion, coming exactly when it was too late, made you even more upset, angry, devastated, so you shouted back,

"I'm not your problem anymore... why are you so ... difficult".

Marc went silent, you're right, he realised it now, "exactly" he said, followed by a little pause, "I shouldn't defend you, you're not my homeland now are you?" his words broke your heart into pieces, "you left me in exile."

"I told you, or tried to, a hundred times" you spoke, you wanted to tell him how it wasn't working, how it was going towards the end of it like the previous ones, but he never understood you, now when it's too late, he has no right to fight for you.

"you could've told me a few times more! we could've done something". He said, now getting red out of anger, sadness.

"everything has it's limit, just go now Marc" You didn't want to send him away, but that was the only way to be able to accept the life with David without regretting what you could've had with Marc. Marc stared at you, Without a word he turned and walked away never looking back again. You stood there watching him go, you had everything now yet him leaving you felt like you're in exile, just like him.

[joelscruff]

Joel and reader are so Daughter and SYML coded as of late. [Love by Daughter for Ch 7 / Better by SYML & Hurt for Me by SYML] As for the reader? Listen to Holocene by Bon Iver. I think it really encapsulates this rawness and sadness that she’s exhibiting. Where they want to be and do better but it doesn’t matter because no matter she’ll never measure up, “be magnificent” the way people want her to be when she just wants to be herself.

*cue long breath of air for the spiel I’m going to give*

I’ve already said it once before but fuck Joel miller right now and his charming and (unfortunately factual) note that he is in fact not in a committed relationship with reader right now and so is technically not at fault. I know so many amazing theories have been posed by others and I love seeing them so I figured I’d contribute to the chaos and when you get to my message - you’ll get to it.

So let me first say that I’m waiting for Joel to find his car keyed (lol) OR for them to cross paths outside of the bar and reader is just kind of cold to him or plays it off as no big deal but like - he knows her and knows something is wrong especially once she begins ignoring his calls but maybe he doesn’t initially put two/two together and thinks it’s related to her home life -

[sidebar: the audacity of that man if he was talking to that same girl on his phone when we mentioned him needing glasses]

- OR, to soley break my heart further, she texts him and he ignores her call where she can witness it happen 😭

I mean, they understandably each have their demons and i think Joel is making it more apparent that he’s realizing his age is a big deal compared to her own (despite being both consenting adults) because I think he is genuinely falling for her even though she doesn’t really mind the age.

I also think the reader has enough self awareness to realize Joel isn’t her’s and that what they are doing was never “committal” but she’s still hurt regardless. And I think that’ll showcase also in how she reacts to this. Will she be distant, will she want to talk about it, or will she have an immature reaction (similar to the bathing suit situation) that only highlights the age gap further. Honestly though I just need the tension and awkwardness to spill into their “lessons” but I also think this will show growth for each of them when they overcome it.

I just need the angst and smut 😩😩

PLEASE!! ALL OF THESE SONG RECS!!!!!!! i adore Daughter 😭 they're one of my favorite groups so it's an honor to have anyone associate one of their songs with my fic omg 🥺 and holocene by bon iver is such a gorgeous song, i can't believe you'd think of my fic when hearing it whaaaat 😭😭 i don't deserve this

reader definitely does have the self awareness to know that joel was never really hers to begin with (.....'you were never mine'.... august by taylor swift....it never ends) but ofc that doesn't stop her from hurting and feeling betrayed :( a conversation NEEDS to be had between the two of them, but there might be a few things that uhhh... get in the way of that 😶

[darkthingshappen]

Three Days: Chapter 6

This is a collab with @quietly-by-myself for @the-whumpers-soiree. It features Faolan from their Mercury and Time series (link here) and my original whumper, Finlay Iver.

This story will contain elements of explicit noncon, references to past violent events, including noncon, torture, among other adult/dark themes. Reader discretion is advised. It's much darker than what I normally post. Minors DNI.

TAGS: @oddsconvert

CW: aftermath of noncon, restraints, references to noncon from previous chapter, past noncon, PTSD, panic attack, pet whump, intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, aftercare, gaslighting, dubcon bathing

Finlay rolled off of Faolan.  He’d spent the entire day testing his new boy’s limits and culminating in what he’d wanted to do the first time he saw him with Atticus at that boring party, he’d been tentative and jumpy, barely peeking out from behind Atticus the whole evening.  God, he’d wanted to take him right then and there.  He slumped back onto the bed catching his breath.  

That was amazing.  He was pretty sure Faolan had enjoyed himself too.  He turned to look at him, where he lay still tied to his bed.  

“Faolan?  Sweet boy?  I told you it would be amazing.  You felt so good.”  He wiped the sweaty hair from his forehead and kissed him softly.  “Open your eyes, Faolan.  I want to see your pretty face.  Open up.”  He tapped Faolan’s face gently, but there was no reaction.  And he didn’t obey.  

Faolan’s eyes were squeezed shut from the unadulterated fear running throughout his body. His mind had long since retreated far, far away from reality, into that place outside his body where only his soul could reach. It felt like he was watching himself there, on the bed, tied down. It was a familiar scene from this perch; he’d seen it hundreds of times before.

He couldn’t remember who or where he was. He remembered something about the action of that night, but who it was happening to and where it was happening was all a mystery. He allowed the sadness to crash over him in waves, but found himself too numb to cry. Why was this such a familiar scene? Why was it always like this? He just wanted everything to stop, stop, stop.

The stickiness between his legs let him know that everything was over. However, his body didn’t know that. He simply stayed in that state, paralyzed by the immensity of his own numbness and anguish that he couldn’t even put together words to say anything.

He’d came, just like that night. The one where he’d been beaten bloodily for the first time with a bottle. He’d been forced. He’d pleaded with Finlay with his shaking head. Oh, what he would’ve given to make the awfulness end.

Something about the way William did it was better. He was rough and violent. There wasn’t any question of if he had feelings in the moment other than fear and anguish. Finlay tried to make sure he enjoyed it. He asked if he was enjoying it and ignored when Faolan would tell him that he absolutely did not.

Most of all, he’d been gentle, as if he actually cared about Faolan’s enjoyment. Slow and gentle, almost like the few scant times he’d had consensual sex. 

The numbness only grew more cold as he laid there, watching his violated body and questioning if maybe he'd betrayed his only boyfriend’s memory by possibly enjoying what had happened with Finlay. He’d been moving just the right way and applying just the right amount of force.

Faolan attempted to force the memory out of his mind, but failed as he felt himself shutting down further.

“Faolan!  Open up.  I’m telling you to open your eyes!”  Finally slapped Faolan when gently tapping him wouldn’t work.  

Again, Faolan was blank-faced when Finlay slapped him. It was as though it didn’t even register other than a small flinch.

Finlay wasn’t sure how to rouse him from his daze.  Slapping hadn’t worked… He released him from the straps that held him.  He was in no condition to run at this point.  He put him on the floor and left one ankle chained, just in case.  He went to his bathroom and filled a cup up with water.  Maybe he needed more of a shock.  

He came back to where Faolan was still sitting and threw the cold water in his face.  

When the cold water hit Faolan’s face, he immediately began to come to. His eyes burned from the chlorine in the water as he sputtered and coughed. Panic washed over him when he realized where he was. He felt Finlay’s seed on him as he tried not to immediately panic there and then. He remembered well what William had said: panicking and crying made him look ugly, which just pissed William off.

Slowly, the panic washed back into numbness as he felt himself leaving again, though not as completely as before. He just didn’t feel… there. He felt like some cord was severed between his mind, his body, and the world around him.

“Ah, there you are, Little Faolan.  Ah, ah, ah.  Come back.  Focus on my voice.  Look at me.  Stay here.”  Finlay snapped his fingers in front of Faolan.  “Listen to my voice.  Feel the water on your face.  Smell the woodsmoke from the fire.  Feel the floor underneath you.  Listen to me.  Look in my eyes.  Focus.”

Faolan obeyed with urgency. He focused on Finlay’s voice, the water, the smells around him. However, he couldn’t look Finlay in the eyes. It didn’t take long afterwards for him to start coming back, though still disconnected to a degree. 

He curled up a bit, hugging his knees from where he laid. The adrenaline had numbed down the pain and, he thought, if he could keep it going a little longer, he could soothe himself enough to get Finlay to leave him alone.

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.” It was an automatic sort of response that Faolan had been used to giving.

“Oh, you haven’t upset me, little pet.  You were perfect.  Absolutely gorgeous.  But I need you to focus.  Where do you go?”  It was half rhetorical.  He wasn’t even sure that Faolan could answer.  “We need to get you cleaned up.  Do you need some time?  I don’t want you going to sleep in your room like this.  That would be cruel.”  He sat next to Faolan and put his arm around him, pulling him against his chest.  

“I…” Faolan knew how to answer, but he struggled to put the words together. “My perch. I go to my perch.” 

He still seemed spacey as he was talking to Finlay. His voice was somewhat robotic.

“Will you be there, if I take some time?” The prospect of having to spend more time with Finlay terrified him. Somehow, Faolan found himself longing for Finlay to throw him to the side and let him be alone, where he could cry and look ugly freely, without fear of being punished.

He allowed the gentle touch to try to comfort him. He tried to imagine that it was Atticus hugging him tenderly, pulling him back from a flashback, instead of another master hurting him as badly as the first.

“Your perch?  Are you a little bird?  I’d like to help you get cleaned up.  There won’t be any more pain tonight.  But I can see you’re going to need some extra special care at the end of each day.  Will you let me do that for you?”

Perhaps Faolan was a bird in a cage. That perch was his only view of a world outside the limited, tortured present. It was his only relief, where he could rest his clipped wings and painful feet.

“Would you let me go if I said no?” Faolan felt that he had nothing left to lose by asking. At the worst, another mark. At the best, he could be alone. “What are you going to do?”

“I was going to let you choose if you’d prefer a bath or a shower?  I have both here in the ensuite.  I mean, after all, what kind of master would I be if I didn’t make sure all the kinks were worked out and you were all clean before going to bed.”  He tilted Faolan’s face toward his.  “Would it really be so bad to get clean?  To feel hot water on your skin washing the day away?  Especially after a day like today?”

Faolan’s hands were beginning to tremble, even if he seemed too numb to be anxious. “Do you have epsom salts? I-I’d like a bath with them if you have them. If not, I’d like a shower.” Faolan shook his head. “It would be nice. Thank you.” He was sort of quiet for a moment before he thought of another question for Finlay. “Will- Will the lights in my bedroom turn off tonight?”

“Of course, little bird.  Of course the lights will go off.  You’ll be able to sleep.  Is that what you were worried about?  And I do have epsom salts.  Come.  Let’s get you in the bath.”  He stood and gently lifted Faolan and carried him to the bath.  

Faolan’s trembling was more obvious now that Finlay was holding him. He had no signs of fever nor of fear worse than what he’d had before. If anything, he seemed more malleable than the time before the evening they’d spent together.

“Faolan, why are you trembling?” Finlay was careful to keep his tone soft and gentle.  He set him down on the bathroom floor next to the clawfoot tub and then stooped down in front of him.  “I told you I’m not going to hurt you any more tonight.  I’m just trying to help you get cleaned up and relaxed so you can get a good night’s rest.”

“William hit my head against the floor after dropping me. I haven’t stopped trembling since. He put the fear of that moment in me forever.” He cringed back a little at being cornered in by Finlay. “It’s permanent. Atticus took me to a doctor for it. My meds for it are wearing off, is all. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Oh, why didn’t you say anything when you begged for your other meds?  I could have had my man pick them up.”

“I can live without them. I can’t live without my stomach meds. They aren’t for comfort.”

“Well now, we can’t have you trembling so much that you can't function.  I’ll have them picked up tomorrow.  Are there any other meds I should know about?  Tell me now.  No more surprises, understand?”

Faolan debated telling him about his neuropathy medicines and decided on telling him. It would make his mood worse if he got off of them too quickly, anyway. “Propranolol. For the tremor. Duloxetine, for my neuropathy. No more surprises.”

“Good.  My little dove.  I’ll have them both picked up.  The neuropathy?  Is that from the burns on your feet?”

Faolan nodded. He didn’t know why he was giving so much information. Perhaps that detachment had lowered his inhibitions. 

“Alright.  Let’s get you cleaned up.”  Finlay stood up and turned on the water.  “Does the neuropathy mean that you need the water hotter or colder, or does it not matter?  I want you to be able to relax.”

“A little colder, please. If it’s too hot, it’s very painful for my feet.”

“Noted.”  Finlay turned the taps on and felt the temperature, turning it slightly cooler than he preferred it.  He then rummaged around under the cabinet until he found the bag of epsom salts.  He poured a heavy amount of them into the water and swirled it around. 

Finlay stood back up and turned Faolan towards the large picture mirror in the room.  He held Faolan close, tilting his head to look up at himself.  

“Look at how perfect you are like this.  Lovely, bruised, broken, flushed from just being fucked until you came.  It’s beautiful.  Exactly what you were meant to be.  What you were meant to look like.”  Finlay’s fingers ghosted over the bruises that crossed his cheek, his arms where the cuffs had dug in, the little bite marks Finlay hadn’t been able to resist leaving across his shoulders, chest and neck, when the boy had gone to his ‘perch’ as Faolan called it.  

Faolan gasped lightly every time Finlay brushed over his bruises. Each touch hurt the freshly damaged skin.

Hearing those words, feeling the possession on his body, having every mark pointed out so proudly brought him right back to where he was before, tied to the bed with Finlay’s hands between his legs. He grew weak as Finlay continued his exploration, knowing that resistance was futile.

He hated the way he looked. He hated his pathetic face. He hated the trail of Finlay’s cum on his leg, maybe even that of his own. His heart was shrinking in his chest as he looked at the bruised, brutalized man before him. Was this really who he was meant to be?

“Ah, ah, ah, little dove.  No flying off to your perch just yet.  You’ll be able to sleep soon enough and you can fly away in your dreams.  For now, stay here with me, while I clean you up.  Remember, when you come here, to these rooms, it’s for your pleasure and release as well as mine.  You’re meant to feel good and to let me help you relax.”  Finally leaned in and pressed his lips against Faolan, coaxing his mouth open once more.  But his kiss was gentle, the barest touch of his tongue to Faolan’s.  “Come, little dove.”

Finlay turned Faolan back towards the bath tub and guided him to get in.  

“Is the temperature okay for you?” He asked.  

Faolan nodded quietly. He was being honest. Though, if the water really was painful, he wouldn’t have said anything to Finlay. He would’ve just borne it, like he had the entire night. He waited quietly to see if he would be washing himself or if Finlay would want to wash him. Like William.

Finlay was learning so much from his new little pet.  He kept his hand on the back of his neck, applying a gentle pressure, just enough to remind him that he was there.  He took the soap and handed it to Faolan.  “You wash off your body and I’ll do your hair.  If you need help let me know.  I’ll keep my hand here, but you can move.  I do want you used to my touch and proximity.  No zoning out.”

“Can you wash my hair first? I-I’m used to doing it that way. Hair first, then body.” Faolan dared to question Finlay. He was very different from William - Master. He actually allowed Faolan to ask questions, as long as they weren’t disrespectful. William had found the very premise of a question disrespectful. It was almost a personal insult to William when Faolan would make a request - it was simply a complaint.

Maybe, I can hide this from Atticus. Maybe I won’t look so bad.

“How about we wash your hair twice?  I’d like to help you relax before bed.  I can do it now if that’s what you’re used to, and then I’ll watch you wash yourself.  You’ve been a bit wobbly, so if you need help I can do that.  Then I’ll wash your hair again?  I like the way you look when you lean into my touch.”

Faolan nodded. “Maybe shampoo first, then the second time, conditioner? My hair frizzes easily.” He was able to give those little suggestions. Those small comments like that offer to help him wash himself were small kindnesses he never got, not even when William tried to take better care of him. The only one who ever did anything like that was Atticus.

Would Atticus even notice something different about me? I don’t want to hurt him. This is all my fault. I don’t want him to think that I enjoyed any of it either. 

This is better. It’ll be easier to hide it all. He’ll be upset with me. He told me not to go to the party.

Finlay laughed a small short laugh.  “You’re getting to be quite high maintenance, aren’t you?”  He enjoyed the little flicker of fear that flitted across Faolan’s eyes for a moment.  “We can do conditioner.  That’s fine.  Now lean your head back.  Enough negotiating.”

Finlay coaxed him to lean back on his arm as he directed the bath sprayer over his hair.  “Relax, little pet.  I’m not going to let you drown.  But this will be much easier if you’re not so tense.  Just float a little.  I have you.”  

He let the water soak into Faolan’s hair before grabbing the shampoo.  He worked it into a lather and massaged it into Faolan’s hair, his scalp.  He took his time, being sure to get all the sweat and grime out of Faolan’s hair from the last day and a half.  He worked at the stress knots that he could feel behind his ears and down the columns of his neck, fingers slick with shampoo, making it easier.  

He sent the water cascading back over Faolan’s hair, still cradling his head on his arm.  

Faolan allowed himself to relax into Finlay’s arm, able to pretend he was Atticus for a few moments. He leaned back into Finlay’s hold, letting his gentle massage bring him back from his perch, even if it was only for a little while. It had been a while since someone had taken so much time and attention to his bathing - he hadn’t needed it from Atticus recently and before, nobody had ever taken so much attention to try to relax him.

Some sort of amazement filled him when he noticed that none of the soap, none of the water came in his eyes. Finlay was being very careful to make him as comfortable as possible. It was strange. Faolan, in a different time when he was more naive and vulnerable, might’ve found himself enjoying it. If he could’ve actually believed that it was a change of heart, perhaps.

“I know I was hard on you earlier today.  And I will be tomorrow too, but our evenings are meant to be gentle.  Think of it as a reward for what I put you through.  I told you I’m not unreasonable.  You’re here because I have an itch that I need to scratch.  But it doesn’t have to be all bad.  I’ll take care of you.  You won’t die from an infection or anything so nasty.  Not while you’re here.”  He kissed Faolan’s forehead and then helped him to sit up.  Keeping his fingers on either Faolan’s shoulder or neck.  

Faolan froze a little at the mention of dying of infection. Does he know? What does he mean “while I’m here?” Atticus, I hope you come quickly. I don’t want to be sold off.

The thought of someone knowing what he’d been through, how his family had died, was somewhat terrifying. Should he accept his fate? Should he accept that his time with Atticus was always going to be temporary? How would Atticus even find him? Atticus, please, I hope you can find me here.

His heart broke into pieces when he thought about being sold. Atticus wouldn’t find him, not for a long time. It would be just like what happened with William. Nobody would be able to find him and eventually, would just come to believe he was dead. Atticus would have a hard time accepting that - he knew - but everyone could eventually come to accept it. 

It was approaching 24 hours, right? 72 hours and a person was gone forever? Would Atticus really give up after three days?

“I’ll do anything.” It was a simple plea. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be. Please, just don’t leave me to die in a brothel. I’ll be perfect for one of your friends. I’ll be perfect for you. I know you’ve probably ensured that Atticus will never find me. I just don’t want to die like my mother.” 

Faolan’s eyes filled with tears. “Please. You- you must know how she died. I don’t want to leave you.”

“You’re mother.  You’ve brought her up a few times.  And always in conjunction with the brothel.  Did she die in a brothel?  Maybe from some horrible STI?  Or was it something else?  Tell me, little bird.”  He turned Faolan’s face toward him.  

“She had kidney disease.” Faolan looked at Finlay, then a bit behind him, trying to piece things together. “Whether it was an STI-related thing, I don’t know. Atticus had me tested when I brought it up and I’m clean of everything.” He gulped a bit. “She lived a miserable life. I was born there. She died after an outbreak of disease in our water. Her kidneys made her dehydrate too quickly.”

“Well, I don’t think that is going to be your fate, little bird.  But you are right, Atticus can’t find you.  He has no idea you’re here.  No one does.  We’re not even in the same state as the party.  So, little Faolan, you’re here for the long haul.  But don’t worry.  Like I said, I’ll take good care of you.  It’ll be hard at first, while we get used to each other.  But I enjoyed myself today.  And tonight.  So I think I’ll keep you around.”  He ruffled Faolan’s wet hair.  “No being sold off.  Just keep being your adorable self.”  He took Faolan’s face in his hands.  “Just don’t go zoning off on me.  It’s no fun.  I need you to try not to do that.”

The subsequent flood of emotions with each word that Finlay added quickly became overwhelming. He forced that part of his brain to shut down. Finlay was being kind right now, but he didn’t know how Finlay would react if he broke down crying again. He needed to focus on pleasing Finlay in whatever way he could.

I’ll never be found. The thought made his heart sink. Finlay was taking mercy on him by allowing him to stay with him. Clearly, something about his reliance on Finlay and pleading had pleased the man. That was a clue to his survival. A very valuable one at that - maybe if he could just continue with that, make it more into a dependency, Finlay would be pleased.

“Ice.” Faolan, now being hit with the tiredness from the day, tried his best to put his words together. “I’d like ice. If I zone out on you, put ice in my hand.” He didn’t know if it was wise to continue what he was saying, but he decided to continue. “I learned that it helps a lot from Atticus.”

“Ice.  Okay.  I can work with that.  What would you do if I were to drop you into a tub of ice water?  Not that I’m planning on it, but if it got bad enough… would that pull you out?”

Faolan nodded, though the idea terrified him. The fear twisted his face at the prospect, though. It would almost certainly cause his neuropathy so much pain that he’d try to jump out immediately, but that was probably what Finlay had in mind anyway.

“I can see that scares you. So put it out of your mind for now.  You work hard to stay focused and I won’t drop you in a vat of ice, deal?”

It was another one of his deals - like the force feeding and the gag. Faolan couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t happen again, but he had no choice. He knew it was now a rule, not just a deal.

Still, he nodded. “Yes.”

“Easy, little dove.  This is meant to help you relax.  We’re just talking.  I’m just trying to figure out how best to work with you.  Let’s take a break.  You wash yourself.”

[unluckyhoneybee]

Prompt list: Songs

To celebrate how loving and supportive all of you are I decided to create this prompt list based on the lyrics of some songs I really love or inspire me to write.

See all the songs on Spotify

MASTERLIST

The rules are easy:

Only 1 prompt per person so we don't mix songs (I can make an exception if the prompts are from the same song)

You tell me the number and the driver you want me to write it about. Also if you have any idea about the background (I prefer if you do).

Nothing too angsty, please.

You can check the people I write about and other guidelines here.

I won't repeat ideas that are too similar or with the same driver and prompt, they will be written as one.

I don't follow a particular order of writing, I do it depending on the inspiration I have.

The last four are in Spanish but I will translate them when I write your story.

The most important thing: Be nice 🌺

Prompts:

If only you could see yourself with my eyes, you'll see you shine. Lost by Dermot Kennedy.

Guess all the good things come to an end. Hold me closer by Cornelia Jakobs.

I give in so easily. And no thank you is how it should've gone. I should stay strong. Weak by AJR

Hold me closer, although you'll leave before the sunrise. Hold me closer by Cornelia Jakobs.

No matter who l love and no matter who I touch, I'm afraid there isn't much without you. There isn't much by Emeli Sandé

Lay me down and kiss me deeply, show me everything I missed. The heart is a muscle by Gang of youths.

I'm about to lose the best I ever had. Hold me closer by Cornelia Jakobs.

Wasn't it love as soon as we knew each other properly? For Islands Fires and Family by Dermot Kennedy

In a full room, I'm the only one she's smiling at. For Islands Fires and Family by Dermot Kennedy.

Even when there is no star in sight, you will always be my guiding light. Guiding light by Mumford and Sons.

I let bad love betray me once (...) and I guess I fear the same results. The heart is a muscle by Gang of youths.

When I see you, the whole world reduces to just that room. And then I remember and I'm shy. Don't delete the kisses by Wolf Alice

You've been on my mind girl like a drug. Ophelia by The Lumineers.

But if you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first one who ever did. Cinnamon Girl by Lana del Rey.

This could be the end of everything, so why don't we go somewhere only we know. Somewhere only we know by Keane.

I don't gamble, but if I did I would bet on us. Dead sea by The Lumineers.

I just want to hold you tight without holding back my mind. Tompkins Square Park by Mumford and Sons.

I'm standing on your porch screaming out. And I won't leave until you come downstairs. Stubborn Love by The Lumineers.

Oh babe, I really wish you would not cry, I only ever told you one lie. Tompkins Square Park by Mumford and Sons.

I looked for love in things that were not love. Hunger by Florence and the Machine.

I've been getting used to waking up with you. Fire and the Flood by Vance Joy.

You remind me that is such a wonderful thing to love. Patricia by Florence and the Machine.

We were stuck out in your car. You were rubbing both of my hands. Blood bank by Bon Iver.

I like you, and I'll never let it show. And you won't wait, and maybe I won't mind. Don't delete the kisses by Wolf Alice

What if the love you deserve is the love you'll never find. Lost by Dermot Kennedy.

You are the reason that I feel so strong. Mess is mine by Vance Joy.

Cuando dos polos opuestos sienten más que una atracción es amor (When two opposite poles feel more than an attraction is love). La Mujer cactus y el Hombre Globo by Rayden.

No quise quererla pero acostumbré a mis manos a tenerla cada noche (I didn't want to love her but I got my hands used to having her every night). Rara bien by Rupatrupa.

¿A dónde hemos llegado? Si tú me querías ¿Por qué estás llorando? (Where have we arrived? if you loved me Why are you crying?) Bajo la Piel by Alice Wonder.

Te irás con el alba (...) Fue bueno saber que pensabas en mí. (You will leave with the dawn (...) It was good to know that were you thinking of me.) La espina de la flor en tu costado by Xoel Lopez.

SEND YOUR Request

Closed.

[tcm]

Martha! Martha! Martha!! THE STRANGE LOVE OF MARTHA IVERS (’46) By Theresa Brown

“It would have been so different if you hadn’t run away. It would have been you instead of Walter. Or if you had stopped me. When I lifted the cane, why didn’t you stop me? You know how much I hated her. Why didn’t you stop me?” 

In April, TCM celebrates all things Oscar with their 31 DAYS OF OSCAR programming, and it frankly boggles my mind how Barbara Stanwyck never won a competitive Academy Award. She received nominations for STELLA DALLAS (‘37), BALL OF FIRE (‘41), DOUBLE INDEMNITY (‘44) and SORRY, WRONG NUMBER (‘48). She was such a good, solid actress. Starting off as a Broadway chorus girl, Stanwyck had been honing her craft in film since 1929. Never really the sweet, ingenue, girl-next-door type, there was often an edge and feistiness to even her most sympathetic characters. The bulk of the 1930s saw her in dramas, but THE MAD MISS MANTON (‘38) unlocked the screwball door.

It turns out Stanwyck could do comedy and drama (no easy feat being a double threat) and sling a line with the best of ’em. On second thought, perhaps she is a triple threat because she could do Westerns (I never saw Bette Davis gallop on a horse and no, rear screen projections don’t count). Or maybe even a quadruple threat because she could dance: (did you see her do that split in LADY OF BURLESQUE, ‘43)? In the 40’s, Stanwyck jumped another hurdle as she crossed the threshold into stone-cold, lethal ladyhood with DOUBLE INDEMNITY.

It’s often too easy to say someone is a good girl or bad guy. As soon as you ask WHY one does what one does...you realize folks are a little more complex than either or. That’s where I put Stanwyck as she delves into the dark side with THE STRANGE LOVE OF MARTHA IVERS. I must have seen this movie, conservatively speaking, at least 11,329,853 times since the 1960s. It’s one of my top five favorite films. Stanwyck is great in this. I see her Martha Ivers as a woman trapped. The entire cast is terrific. Everyone fulfills the trope of characters we’ve become familiar with in the world of film noir. Along with Stanwyck, the film stars Van Heflin, Lizabeth Scott and in his first screen appearance, Kirk Douglas as Stanwyck’s husband, Walter O’Neil.

Scott’s character here is a girl more on the good side than bad side of noir, and who’s been hurt by men...victimized. Oh, we see she knows she appeals to men, and they want to give her things. But then she’s often left holding the bag. In MARTHA IVERS she’s on parole and will be used by the law to corner Heflin. But before she betrays him, they’ve got a nice budding relationship going. She’s a little wary and can take care of herself, but ultimately she’s a lost, hurt pup. Composer Miklós R��zsa underscores her vulnerability with sweet romantic violins. She has no hidden agenda and just wants a ride out of town in the opposite direction the law wants to send her. She falls for Heflin. This time she might’ve picked right: a man who wants nothing from her. But before they go forward, he must go back.

It took me 40 years of watching this movie to really fall for Van Heflin and now...I’m hooked. I really like him in this film. Heflin plays Sam Masterson, the usual protagonist you see in film noir: the flippant, wise-ass, smart aleck: “The road turned and I didn’t.”  He roams from thing to thing...wears the requisite fedora. Sam is easy, breezy. And he stumbles into his past. While Walter might not bruise an olive, Sam doesn’t back away from a fight. Sam shows us a glimpse of hurt when he talks about his “people” who abandoned him. He’s sensitive to the hard-luck girl he picks up along the way without taking advantage of her. He’s also an opportunist. He figures out that from asking D.A. Walter for a favor, it might land him in the chips if he plays his cards right.

As an actor, Heflin faces the big kahuna in this movie: Stanwyck. This is their first pairing but it wouldn’t be their last. They co-star in EAST SIDE, WEST SIDE (‘48) and B.F.’s DAUGHTER (‘49). They’re both so accomplished opposite each other. Stanwyck has had some dashing leading men in her career, but for my money...very, very few of them can hold a candle with her like Van Heflin.

The Oscars likes Acting ( with a capital "A" ). I’ll begrudgingly admit, Stanwyck’s four Oscar-nominations come from showier performances. In them, she’s a terrorized, self-sacrificing, pistol of a showgirl with a cheap blonde wig living with some squirrely professors and wants her lover to murder her husband. She’s not showy in MARTHA IVERS though she does run a gamut of emotions and attitudes on her journey, and nothing beats Stanwyck when she has to desperately plead. Whether she’s steely, contemptuous, dismissive, sarcastic, desperate, desirous, loving or volcanic, Barbara Stanwyck has many gears she can expertly shift into. And any one of them should garner her an Oscar.

THE STRANGE LOVE OF MARTHA IVERS is one of the best films noir. Riveting in how it unspools events, it’s all a noir should be, even without the flashback and narration. And please keep your eye out for Ann Doran’s five-minute bit as a secretary. She’s a dream. Simply a dream. They say you can’t go home again. It’s especially true in film noir. Well, time to watch the movie once more. Coming up on my 11,329,854th time.

[honeyvettel]

nico — a playlist made by me

listen, every time I listen to any of these songs I keep thinking of nico and his relationship with lewis so bear with me and let me explain why👇🏻

1. Unfucktheworld, Angela Olsen

The whole situation with lewis tired nico relentlessly so he needed a break to take care of himself.

It’s not just me for you I have to look out too

I have to save my life

I need some peace of mind

2. We own the sky, M83

nico dreamed all his life to race in f1 with lewis, and as a child everything seemed possible.

Each shade of blue

Is kept in our eyes

Keep blowing and lightning

Because we own the sky

But then things started to fall apart between them and there was no chance to go backwards.

Can’t we change our minds?

We kill what we build

3. The wolves (act i and ii), Bon Iver

(God this song fits both of them so well. it goes better with lewis’ perspective but humour me for this time.)

nico felt betrayed by lewis’ attitude and he was resentful. He hopesone day lewis will understand how much he hurt him.

Someday my pain will mark you

And when he will, nicowill take comfort in that, so he suggests lewis to just go ahead and finish him.

Solace my game

It stars you

Swing wide your crane, swing wide your crane

And run me through

nico reflects in hindsight how many moments they could have had but now it’s all vanished and Lewis won’t hear from him anymore.

What might have been lost (don’t bother me)

4. The great escape, Patrick Watson

The situation exhausted nico to his limits so he needed to escape, even if he loves racing so much.

Puts on a smile and breathes it in

And breathes it out, he says

Bye bye, bye to all of the noise

5. Many ways, Bombat Bicycle Club

nico doesn’t know if he is doing the right choice and can’t sleep because of it.

She said you’re stirring

Tossing, turning

But Vivian reassures him and says he is doing the right thing.

I’m sure your choice is right

Nonetheless, nico thinks he is a coward from running away and thinks there are other possibilities to make up for it.

I’ve always been a coward

Been a coward this day

There are many ways this way

6. See you soon, Coldplay

Nico has lost trust in himself and he scolds himself because he shouldn’t have fallen in love in the first place.

So you lost your trust

And you never should have

He tries to go on. He protects himself (with the bulletproof vest) from hurting again.

In a bulletproof vest

With the windows all closed

I’ll be doing my best

he watches Lewis from afar “in a telescope lens” and hopes they'll be friends again very soon.

And when all you want is friends

I’ll see you soon

7. Old friend, Mitski

Nico understands how childish was to make an insignificant thing like racing divide them.

We nearly drowned

For such a silly thing

And now that they have both someone better to take care of them they can go back being what they were, even if it means only friendship.

I’ll take coffee and talk about nothing baby

At blue diner I’ll take anything you want to give me, baby

8. Ran away, Coldplay

Another song about nico avoiding the situation with lewis.

I ran away from you

That’s all I ever do

People said to him not to mess up things, not to leave, that is stupid and won’t solve anything and yet he did it.

Everyone I know

Says I’m a fools to mess with you

And everyone I know

Says it’s such a stupid thing to do

9. Atmosphere, Joy Division

They try to talk but it’s impossible to rebuild what they lost.

Endless talking

Life rebuilding

Don’t walk away

Nico pleads lewis to stay even if he knows it’s hopeless

Don’t turn away in silence

Your confusion

My illusion

Worn like a mask of self hate

10. The Bourne identity, The Last Shadow Puppets

(okay this is the most Nico song ever written so bear with me for just a little longer)

Nico understands that his insecurities are ruining his relationship with lewis. He always feels smaller compared to lewis’ grandness and he masks his doubts with confidence, like he usually does when he answers journalists question. He creates another new person, but now this facade is cracking and it’s revealing his true self and he hates it.

He’s kind of my enemy

Whenever I’m on to something good you see

He always wanted in to spoil it for me

That’s because the relationship with lewis makes him do this. He doesn’t need to hide with him, so he keeps cracking and cracking.

Glass bottomed ego

Still afloat but can’t you see the cracking appearing in the base?

He always scolds himself for this and for the mistakes he makes. He beats himself up so much that nothing will be left in the end.

Let’s just have a buzz because by the time I’m done fucking beating myself up there will nothing left love

So he leaves. He doesn’t want Lewis to see him like this.

Yeah I’ll be leaving now, I’m making tracks

And I doubt that I’ll be coming back.

If you made it this far thank you for your attention. Hope you enjoyed the songs and the explanations as much as I did🤍

[gaylorlyrics]

Folklore Songs - what are they about??

This is a developing thread, but I’ve been listening all day so I’m taking a stab at it.

1."The 1"  

Common consensus is that this is about Dianna Agron and what they could have been. Telling lyrics are the general idea that the relationship wasn’t truly given a chance (”it would've been sweet, If it could've been me”) and “Roaring Twenties”, referring to the below circus themed party pics with Diana dressed like a flapper

tbh im not totally sold on this - most because it seems more recent with lyrics like, “In my defense, I have none for never leaving well enough alone” sounds like a reference to ME! and “Roaring twenties” sounds like a reference to something that happened this year (2020). Also “throwing pennies in the pool” could be a reference to throwing Penni (Karlie’s agent) in the pool. Finally, Route 1 is the road along California’s coast, where Tay & Karlie drove on their legendary road trip...this makes my lil Kaylor heart worry. 

2. Cardigan

This is the first installment in the Teenage Trio, which also includes August and Betty, and is told from the perspective of Betty. It’s about feeling so loved by someone but then being betrayed by them (”Chase two girls [Betty + August’s narrator] lose one”). The line ”And you'd be standin' in my front porch light” foreshadows to James professing love in “Betty”. Potentially Taylor is Betty - but I’m still thinking about that theory.

3."The Last Great American Dynasty"  

We <3 a Rhode Island throwback. Here Taylor tells the story of her house in Rhode Island that Rebekah “Betty” (??!?!??!! more on that later) Harkness used to live in. Rebekah married an heir to Standard Oil which made her one of the wealthiest women in the USA at the time. She was also known for making a scene (”She had a marvelous time ruining everything”). Additionally, she founded the Harkness Ballet (”And blew through the money on the boys and the ballet”). After Rebekah’s death Taylor purchased the house and it is now best known as the place of many epic 4th of July parties.

4. Exile

Such a sad song! This is a duet between Taylor and Bon Iver, telling the story of a failed relationship that they have tried to mend many many times. Interestingly, this is also about a love triangle (like the teenage trio) -  "I can see you starin' honey/Like he's just your understudy." This line specifically feels like it could be about bearding, and seeing someone else with the person you love, but feeling like - or knowing - it’s fake. “You were my town Now I'm in exile seein' you out” references and end to the relationship Taylor discussed in False God “Staring out the window like I'm not your favorite town I'm New York City”. To me this indicates that it is about Karlie and them breaking up or going through a rough patch - continually trying to fix things - and eventually being unsure that it could ever be repaired.

5."My Tears Ricochet"

This is pretty clearly about Scott & Scooter - “And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed” and “You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same” seem to be a reference to them trying to exploit her work and how her leaving Big Machine really ruined the business - plus there’s some LWYMMD imagery. “You wear the same jewels that I gave you as you bury me” also seems to be a clear reference for trying to use Taylor’s own work against her, taking the profits, and pushing her out of the deal. As if we needed more evidence “You hear my stolen lullabies” clearly references her stolen masters.

6."Mirrorball"  

Big 80s prom vibes from this song. Mirrorball is about being famous and all of her work - her most personal thoughts and dreams - just becoming different ways for other people to see themselves once she releases her music into the world. Part of being an artist is knowing that your work will reflect more of who the viewer is than who you are yourself. Here she uses the metaphor of a disco ball to explore that idea, and worries that she is losing her own identity through it “I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me”. She also alludes to her fears that she will age out of relevancy “I know they said the end is near”, something she discussed in her documentary Miss Americana. Obviously this is internalized misogyny because we love Taylor and will listen to her music always and do not subscribe to the belief that women need to be young to be relevant because if they were a man then they'd be the man, and tay’s the man <3 

7. “Seven”

Personally, this is one of my favorite songs on the album. It’s so sweet and pure and lovely. This is about young love, with imagery of summer, toys, and child’s dreams to runaway together. Many people have speculated that it is about the same girl that the two unreleased Taylor songs “Sweet Tea and Gods Graces” and “Me & Britney” are about. 

[Side note: initially I wondered if Me & Britney was about Britany Maack, Taylor’s long time friend who recently got married, but the names are spelled differently. Also the line in Seven “I can’t recall your face” indicates that this is about someone who Taylor is not currently in touch with.] 

Both M&B and STAAG seem to be about the Seven relationship because there are general parallels with outdoor scenery, childlike wonder, and ( in the case of STAGG) sweet tea. Also all three songs indicate a gay relationship: STAGG - “And you can love like a sinner and lose like a winner”, M&B - “That boy she went ran off with, well, I thought he was crazy. Maybe I was just jealous that he'd come between me and Britney”, and Seven - “You won't have to cry or hide in the closet And just like a folk song our love will be passed on”.

8. “August”

This is the second installment in the Teenage Trio, told from the perspective of the “other woman” who James meets while on summer vacation. The other woman (she doesn’t seem to have a name...unless it is August...which it could be? idk) is in love, but realizes that James isn’t in love with her - “Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you”. The line “Remember when I pulled up and said "Get in the car" references the same incident which is retold in Betty, but this time with James telling Betty it was just a summer fling that didn’t mean anything.

9. This Is Me Trying

Here we have a break up song, about Taylor trying to win her lover back and feeling completely lost without them, unable to concentrate or be around people, and turning to self sabotage. It’s about the general loneliness that one feels when they’ve lost someone they truly love, and the miscommunication that can happen in a relationship when you’re not understanding each other or receiving love in the same way (hence the song’s title). I think this could be about Karlie, it seems clear that their relationship has not been smooth and that they have had many on-and-off times. It could also be serving a purpose of building the Joe break up narrative, but only time will tell for that.

10. “Illicit Affairs”

Taylor loves her secret love - this song reads like a sad version of “I Know Places”. It seems clear that this is about Karlie Kloss. “Tell your friends you're out for a run” is one of my favorite lines because Karlie started Klossy run club, where you commit to running a certain distance in a month - and she posts about it on instagram CONSTANTLY. But overall, the song details a relationship of a woman being with someone she doesn’t love (kushnerd) and sneaking around to meet up with the person she does love (tay!). The line “Tell yourself you can always stop” is so sad to me, the idea that Karlie got into this and keeps telling herself that it will only be a little longer and she can leave when she wants, but staying in her fake marriage anyway.

11. Invisible String

This is pretty much the only pure love song on the album - about feeling connected to someone throughout your whole life, knowing that that somebody is out there, and then finally finding them. Taylor talks about being in Centennial Park in Nashville as a teen, and then eventually showing her lover around. The song is really self referential, with lots of easter eggs for her past work, including Bad Blood and Delicate. She also references Joe Jonas with the line “Cold was the steel of my axe to grind For the boys who broke my heart Now I send their babies presents”.

Some people have pointed out that there is a similar idea presented in Jane Eyre - when the protagonist says to her love interest “I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you."

12."Mad Woman"  

Another Scooter one - “It's obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together”. “The master of spin” is word play referencing the masters records scandal. “Watching you climb over people like me” points out that agents and labels are making money off the performers they find and pushing them around. There’s also a reference to Scooter’s wife Yael and how he cheats all the time, but she doesn’t do anything likely because of her own internalized misogyny - “has a couple side flings. Good wives always know. She should be mad, should be scathing like me”.

13. “Epiphany”

The first verse of this touching ballad is about Taylor’s grandfather in WW2, storming the beaches at Normandy - “Crawling up the beaches now "Sir, I think he's bleeding out"”. The second verse is about a nurse helping patients with Covid-19 - “Holds your hand through plastic now "Doc, I think she's crashing out"”. The bridge here talks about wishing there was some great epiphany, some magical solution for the suffering in the world. The chorus refers to experiencing trauma with others and staying loyal even in the hardest times, even if it means literally dying. Although this seems like a departure from the themes of rest of the album, the whole album examines loyalty and considering what you would do for the people you love - so I really don’t think it’s a departure at all.

14. “Betty”

Obviously this is the gayest song on the album and an early fan favorite. It is the final song in the teenage trio, told from the point of view of James, going to win Betty back after betraying her and sleeping with someone else (August!?) over the summer. The line "Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends?”, a line that is very clearly about wanting to kiss a woman, is especially striking (& gay!) when sung by Taylor. The clearest version of this plot is someone begging for forgiveness after betraying the person they love.

There is also a bit of a nod to a line in “Picture to Burn”, a break up song off Taylor’s first album. In PTB Taylor says “So go and tell your friends that I'm obsessive and crazy that's fine, I’ll tell mine you’re gay”. This lyric has since been changed in versions available online, but on the original album that's what it was. This is interesting because she’s calling attention to knowing that someone is gay and hasn’t told their friends...which you would definitely know if you had dated them.

The names “James” and “Inez” are both mentioned in the song, which are the names of Blake Lively and Ryan Reynold’s daughters. James was already featured on a Taylor Swift album, as the lil baby voice at the beginning of “Gorgeous”. Worth noting that “James” is traditional a male name, but that this character is named after a female.

ALSO I have this theory I’m working on that Taylor is Betty and this whole album is in the same world with the same people, but WILL POST MORE ON THIS LATER.

15."Peace"  

Ok - this is Archer 2.0 for me, about how she is worried about how no one will ever love her or stay with her because its too much work - “the rain is always gonna come if you're standin' with me” and “No, I could never give you peace” are pretty telling lines about her concerns that people will think it is not worth it to be friends with or in a relationship with her due to all of the baggage that comes with it. 

The opening lines - “Our coming-of-age has come and gone Suddenly this summer, it's clear” feed into my emerging theory that all of these songs exist in the same universe and are about the same three characters...but I’m still figuring that one out. The line “And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences Sit with you in the trenches” reference Seven and Epiphany, respectively - further supporting that all of these songs are in the same world.

16. “Hoax”

Out of all of the songs that make my little Kaylor heart ache - this is the most heartbreaking. Specifically the line “My eclipsed sun” refers to Karlie, who Taylor has called “sunshine” on multiple occasions, and her light being covered up by her contract with Kushnerd and Scooter. The line “Don't want no other shade of blue But you” makes it clear that this song is in reference to the muse for the album “Lover” - aka Karlie. 

However, this is a song about betrayal and completely trusting someone, only to find that they stabbed you in the back, as is clear by the line ”Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in”.

Additionally, the line“You knew it still hurts underneath my scars” seems to again feed into the idea that all of the songs on the album involve the same characters. This one is a bit more clear, it seems that - if this theory is correct - Betty is the narrator of this song, as she referenced her scars before “Drew stars around my scars” in Cardigan.

OK- I'm going to go deep into song by song later, but I just wanted to get something out there!!! Also def interested in hearing what everyone else thinks!

EDIT: I just found some lyrics from The Lakes in an article from Billboard. I wanted to add them in even though we don’t have the full song because I felt like we really ended on a sad note with hoax and then when I saw these I was like there is hope!!

SO the lyric Billboard included in their review was “A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground / With no one around to tweet it” which is a continuation from the line from “Hoax” - “ This has frozen my ground”. What I’m taking from this is that in the final song Taylor finds hope <3

[charmed-henry]

sid’s secret santa part (4/?)

somewhere only we know: a heric playlist [x]

Homeward Bound by Simon & Garfunkel

You’ve Got a Friend by James Taylor (cover)

Castle on the Hill by Ed Sheeran

Sober Up by AJR feat. Rivers Cuomo

Twin Size Mattress by The Front Bottoms

exile by Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver

Somewhere Only We Know by Keane

Some Nights by fun.

It’s Not the Same Anymore by Rex Orange County

Wildflowers by Tom Petty

@maritimeericandersen

hahaha so it is no secret that i honestly go CRAZY for heric. I just think they have the most insane and beautiful and heartbreaking dynamic: they are old friends who are being torn apart by the life choices they are making now that they are adults and the separate ideologies they have developed. And obviously Eric is going down the right path by leaving the Order but Henry certainly doesn’t think so and I just think losing friends (especially in a way that feels so unresolved) is such a deep and complicated pain and I absolutely LOVE exploring that with these boys. So without further ado here is some rambling about the songs I picked for this playlist.

1. Homeward Bound 

I just picked this song because before they properly linked up Henry and Eric were kind of lonely, wandering around and feeling homesick. Obviously Eric even moreso because he was literally on the run, but I think Henry relates a little.

2. You’ve Got a Friend

You just call out my name And you know, wherever I am I'll come runnin' To see you again Winter, spring, summer or fall All you have to do is call And I'll be there You've got a friend

I picked this version because while obviously Carole King is the GOAT I think that James Taylor’s voice is just so melancholy and nostalgic (am I weird for saying that idk it’s just a vibe I get). And I think the lyrics say it all. Heric has always been about intense loyalty and I think this song captures how Henry was just willing to do anything for Eric, even start to betray the rest of the Order a little.

3. Castle on the Hill by Ed Sheeran

You knowww I had to do an Ed Sheeran song... anyway this song is about growing up and growing apart from your friends. Only a few years had passed since Henry and Eric had since last seen each other, but a lot had changed when they reunited. Henry was now a Prince, and Eric was technically “dead.” So I think this song can kind of represent how much has changed.

4. Sober Up by AJR feat. Rivers Cuomo

This song has a similar meaning/vibe, it’s about missing old friends and wanting to reconnect with them. It’s also about how those people remind you of who you used to be, or maybe who you’re supposed to be. I think we can read “sober up” as being surrounded by a lot of intoxicating BS and I think the Order definitely counts as that. Eric reminds Henry of who he is beyond just his Order duties, and being with him he feels like he can be himself a little more.

5. Some Nights by fun.

Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end 'Cause I could use some friends for a change And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again But some nights, I always win (I always win) But I still wake up, I still see your ghost Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh-oh

I think this song is about grappling with your values and with indecision. It feels like the calm before the storm, as Henry and Eric are starting to decide what they have to do. What is more important: their histories or their futures? How do they fit together? 

6. Twin Size Mattress by The Front Bottoms

You stopped by my house the night you escaped With tears in my eyes, I begged you to stay You said, "Hey man, I love you, but no fucking way!"

I know this song is def about something else but thinking about it through a Heric lens I am like AHHH. This is where it starts to fall apart, when they each make their own choices and have to live with the consequences. And ultimately those choices will make Henry really lonely (through his own self sabotage tbh). It’s so sad and beautiful and AHH. That’s all I have to say.

7. exile by Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town Now I'm in exile, seein' you out I think I've seen this film before

I know this is a deep tragic epic breakup song but I think it can apply to really any relationship breaking down and ugh the lyrics are so beautiful! “You’re not my homeland anymore” tfw you realize that you don’t know if you can trust this person anymore or be as open with them as you used to... yeah :(

8. Somewhere Only We Know by Keane

I mostly put this here because it was canonically the song on in the car when they had that big fight! But it also really applies well for them, another breakup song that can be about friendship too. The “place” the song refers to can be an emotional place, this shared memory of what they’ve both been through. And after all is said and done, after they realize they can’t be the same kind of friends they used to be, at least they still have that.

9. It’s Not the Same Anymore by Rex Orange County

I've been so hard on myself, yeah Even my family can tell And they barely saw what I felt I wouldn't wish this on my enemy or anyone else

This song is about realizing you’re really #going through it and you need to make a change and by the end of the song, he does make a change. It’s the last song on Rex Orange County’s Pony album, and it’s such a beautiful way to end an album about heartbreak and struggles with mental health and overall just having a really tough year. And so this is what I really hope for these boys: that they find their way out of the toxic world they grew up in and learn to be vulnerable and open to change! And I think Eric is already getting there tbh, and I hope Henry can, too. <3

10. Wildflowers by Tom Petty

You belong among the wildflowers You belong in a boat out at sea You belong with your love on your arm You belong somewhere you feel free

This song makes me so EMO omg it’s just the most beautiful bittersweet goodbye song. And yes I do always think of that scene in Parks and Rec where Ann moves to Michigan WHATEVER. I don’t know if Henry and Eric will ever be able to be normal friends again, but. if not,  I think this is the sentiment they’ll have for each other. Go on. Be free. <3.

[chappedandfadedvds]

Jan 21st, Thursday 18:14

„Hey.“ Lucas’s voice chimed from the entrance, as the front door fell shut. „I still have the key, so I hope it was fine? I’m not a robber, I swear!“

If Jens would have felt his usual self, instead of the disconnect to his body and voice, he would have answered in jest. Something along the lines of that being exactly what a robber would say. Instead he swallowed down a couple of sobs in vain, as more surfaced from the waves.

He put the knife down on the wooden board, staring at the vegetables about to be cut.

His shoulders were trembling. Betraying any attempt to appear alright.

„Why are you crying? What happened?“ And there he was, his boyfriend, immediately knowing that something was up. Especially when Jens stood turned with his back towards the younger boy. 

„Oh, hi. Nothing.“ Jens told him, while he quickly brushed of tears from his cheeks and chin. He didn’t lie. „It’s dumb.“

„It’s not dumb, if it made you cry.“ 

The voice behind him spoke with worry and fear, that Jens couldn’t ignore him longer. He turned around to notice Lucas looking straight at him. It really wasn’t bad. Nothing major had happened that would warrent his crestfallen state. He simply had gotten caught up in the emotion.

„No, it actually is. I just finished listening to Taylor Swifts latest album. Like five minutes ago.“ Jens explained with a faint smirk, that didn’t raised high enough to help him over the faintest tears gathering back in the corner of his eyes. Fuck feelings, he thought. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

„Okay, maybe you were right there a little.“ Lucas huffed a laugh, his face smoothing out into relief. Right before his eyes gleamed in jest. „You were actually crying to Taylor Swift?“

„Fuck off, dude.“

„No! You are adorable.“ Lucas cooed, „Come into my arms, I’ll comfort you.“

„I hate you so much.“ He tried to push the younger boy off of him, who rushed to tightly cling to his middle instead. There was such force in the way Lucas had thrown himself into Jens’s body, that it almost had swept both of them off of their feet.

Lucas cracked a loud giggle first, before Jens himself began to laugh too.

He wasn’t able to tell who started it, but as they swayed from one foot to the other it calmed them both into a comfortable state of ease. Jens hold the younger boy tightly, grateful to have him back, after he had thought to have lost him.

„I don’t even know why. But the last song. That did it. I was reminded of the last couple month, of my mom and you and I don’t know. It just fitted so well, you know? I couldn’t help it.“

Jens kissed the mop of brown curled hair, burying his face in it to hide away from the world for a moment until he could regain his composure.

„See, that’s not dumb.“ Lucas replied, while his fingers knead the older boy’s back gently.

„Well you’ve listened to it probably on loop and know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re definitely a big Swiftie, right?“

„Glad you still find some time to be an asshole while crying in my arms.“ Lucas said with a dramatic sigh, as he untangled himself from the older boy to get away. Jens realised it too late. His fingers scraped only the sweater that Lucas wore.

„No wait! Come back. We can stan together. Also Bon Iver.“ He proclaimed loudly, while Lucas laughed and left him behin d by the kitchen counter. „Rude.“

„I’m going to get my phone and then we can listen to some of your rap stuff while cooking. Or something.“ The younger boy’s voice echoed from the entrance hall for the moment to find his jacket and the right pocket. „Where is Lotte?“

„Eh upstairs. Hopefully doing her Dutch homework, but very probably playing on her Switch. Runs in the family, I guess.“ Jens said and shrugged his shoulders. He still felt incredibly uncomfortable being strict with his little sister. He didn’t wanted her to hate him, but he knew that he couldn’t let her get away with everything. Why was this so complicated? 

It left him absolutely awed by the consideration that his mom had managed that with three children.

„I see.“ Lucas replied, half in thoughts as he unlocked his phone. There was a brief sound from the bluetooth as it got connected to Lucas’s device instead.

For a moment Jens just stood and watched. Exactly a week had passed without the younger boy occupying the space that he had somehow claimed in this house. All of it within only a couple of month. 

Lucas’s gaze was stuck to his phone in hand. He blindly walked through the room, familiar with it’s interior. Oblivious to the fact how perfectly he fitted in his surroundings. A missing piece, that finally returned. And he didn’t even seemed to notice. But Jens did. 

And though it was a scary thought, it also brought some form of peace to his mind.

That was until the first note had hit and Lucas immediately looked up at him with a shit-eating grin, as he joined in to sing the first couple of lines. Jens knew he had listened to this more times, than he would like to admit.

„I'm a working, bitch

Ain't got no time for dick

You wish you could sway my attention“

Jens snorted loud and overjoyed, while he shook his head. No matter how heavy his heart had felt and how much he had tried to catch his breath again, now that Lucas had arrived, suddenly it hadn’t weighed as much any more. 

The younger boy went to get himself a knife and a cutting board, before he stole the peeled carrots from Jens’s forgotten preparations on the counter. Jens didn’t even had to ask, when Lucas already began to help get their dinner ready. 

He shifted a little over towards his boyfriend, til their elbows would brush every so often, as they sang along and laughed. And perhaps even found themselves dancing at one point, when they had nothing else to do but wait for the water on the stove to boil.

__ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

note: I really hope that the change comes through of him opening up more and more? idk. i hope.

also evermore came out to late for me to use it, but for a moment i thought about using that song to title week 10/11 instead. it just fits so well

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

               Timothée Valère Iver, who is known by no other name;                                          a 20 year old son of Hodr.                                   He is a student, figure skater and                       museum guide at Phoenix Library & Museum.

FC NAME/GROUP: hwang hyunjin of stray kids CHARACTER NAME: timothée valère iver AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 29/05/2000 PLACE OF BIRTH: mouthe, doubs, france OCCUPATION: student at phoenix university (arts major), figure skater, part-time museum guide at phoenix, library & museum HEIGHT: 1.83m DEFINING FEATURES: he has collected a gallery of scars over the years, most of them on his legs from training, but the most evident one is across his hipbone where he took a (gracious) ice skate blow. he really loves tattoos, but given he has to wear revealing clothing, he could only get two: a gemini constellation on the inside of his right foot and an anchor on the inside of his left foot. he has his ears pierced multiple times (and changes his earrings quite often), has a small navel piercing (that he does not wear at competitions), and wears fake face piercings at times (like septum rings, lip rings, eyebrow barbell, etc.).

PERSONALITY: he is an unpredictable winter: one that could get too cold, too fast. one that could unleash its full potential if underestimated. he is a determined, and hard-working person – he strives for perfection, maybe to his downfall. he is incredibly artistic – in every way possible. because of that, he could have odd and unexpected reactions to certain things. sometimes, he is hard to approach, especially if he had a bad day. but overall, he is quite friendly, really funny and easy to talk to. he thinks humour is the only thing that keeps him sane sometimes. he is vengeful – do not step on his toes, it might be the last thing you do. he is easy to anger, but quick to calm down if pushed the right way. he is a young adult, naturally, he likes exploring and experimenting – sometimes, he does dangerous/stupid things just because he is curious about how things will play out. he has a good eye for pretty things, and could be a little bit of snob. he has strong opinions, and can be stubborn – he usually wins debates. he cannot control his feelings or powers. he appears intimidating because of his good looks and ‘popularity’, but those who know him are aware he has a goofy side.

HISTORY: tw: implied physical violence, sexual innuendo i. first snow ;

the bitter cold has a tendency to get under people’s skin – and even if snow is beautiful, the cold can be unbearable. not for her, she was born on ice – she enjoyed every single thing about winter: its glitter, its cold presence, its icy breath. that was why she fell for him, a god made of ice and snow, a god who perhaps loved her back.

mouthe, france – she went into labour while out with friends. a man, much older than her, was holding her hand and smiling at her. she found him at the ice rink, he was her instructor – and now, the man who will be her baby’s father. it was a long, hard and cold labour – when he was born, he was so cold they thought he died in the process. his fingertips were purple, and his little legs almost crumbled when touched. a cry made them breathe out relieved – the boy was born healthy. and the first thing he did was touch snowflakes – and thus his life began.

paris, france – they moved to paris from marseille, they knew it would be best for their child. paris offered opportunities that other towns did not, especially the opportunity to become the best in anything they wanted him to be. maybe that made him strive harder, be a little arrogant, look down at people who did not try as hard as he did. or maybe the fact that his mortal parents stopped loving each other had everything to do with why he was such a hard-headed kid. ii. blizzard ;

he has never been the best with conflict – a little easy to anger, hard to calm down. like a blizzard, or maybe like an avalanche. once a stone is tipped, he will come falling down with all he has. there is no telling how many fights he got into, how many throats he held in his rage. maybe, he just felt misunderstood – or maybe, he was just evil. he harboured love for finer things in life, a little less for people – he did not see love in his parents’ eyes, he only saw ‘do better’.

with feet bruised, and knees scratched – he pushed forward. maybe he thrusted back and forth, who would not? blessed with a pretty face that did betray his lust, and a perseverance that scared even elite athletes – he was truly a masterpiece. if observed from afar – absolutely gorgeous, if put under a microscope – terribly faulted. he was a dichotomy – hot and cold, pushing and pulling. there has never been a stable ground – and when he stepped on ice, it knew who its master was. and they knew too, because they screamed his name every night – timothée. iii. under snow ;

one conflict too far, and one outburst too much – he used his powers for the first time on a mortal boy who stepped on his trust. with zero tolerance for one of the most faulted qualities in humans, he froze the boy’s throat until he lost his ability to speak. surprised by the newfound power, timothée started questioning his heritage – how he did not look like his father, and was not really like his mother either. if they were not who they said they were, and he was not who he knew he was – then who was he?

the journey led him back to mouthe, where he found traces of his father. information he coaxed out of his mother after he won the nationals – his biological father was a stranger his mother met in mouthe, someone she did not see again after their union. a big, strong man with a foreign accent – one she felt attached to, and loved by until the moment he left. he begged the snow and the ice to tell him his name, and then he heard it. hodr, god of winter. iv. winter is here ;

as expected, choking someone’s voice out was not tolerable. he almost tarnished his reputation – they wanted to take his titles away. he had to go away, somewhere the snow told him to go: mount phoenix. he was only eighteen when he decided he was old enough to be by himself, fairly convinced that where he was going was home.

PANTHEON: hodr CHILD OF: norse POWERS: he is deeply connected to winter and ice. he feels at his strongest (and his happiest) in a cold environment, with a lot of white, despite having a sensitive eye-sight. he established some sort of odd communication with ice (and snow) over the years, sometimes he swears they answer him back. he can manipulate snow and ice in the presence of any form of water (sold, liquid, gas). when people annoy him, he freezes their sweat as a form of revenge. his body temperature is low, and it rarely if ever increases. thus he has a high resistance to the cold weather. naturally, he dislikes heat (sometimes feels like olaf in front of a fireplace). he gets uncomfortable if he stays in a warm place for too long, and hesitates a little when interacting with extremely warm people (whether personality wise or body temperature wise).

STRENGTHS: lithe (has quick feet), well-balanced, can navigate without sight (and often does), sharp hearing, high stamina

WEAKNESSES: little control (impulsive, and quick to anger), weary of heat (and of summer), sensitive skin and eyes (easily bruised/burnt/injured), easily overwhelmed (especially in places where there is a lot of movement), lacks concentration (sometimes sporadic)