#and then i listened to the lyrics closer and my heart DROPPED

[yuyuparfait]

ice on my teeth KILLED ME i am no longer on this planet holy shit….,,,, opening with yunho like that should be fucking ILLEGAL the visuals the everything omfg i probably need to watch this 10 more times i’m sure i missed a lot upon my first watch

i have to wait until the 17th to listen to the rest of golden hour part 2 bc me and my bestie promised we’d listen to it together so i have to stay strong,,,, lord help me

[vivwritesfics]

Hi! I saw that you said requests were open and I have an fic idea

Basically Max Verstappen × Singer!reader, and reader writes some new songs and invites him to spend time in the studio with her on winter break. And while she's recording a song, he realizes it's about his childhood, and she makes sure he's okay with the lyrics before she records it? Leads to a lot of fluff and angst.

(This may or may not be heavily influenced by Billie Eilish's song "Blue" )

Have a great day🥰

this is the shortest of short blurbs bc idk the song and billie eilish (i almost spelt it eyelash jeez man lmao) isn't my thing. just trust me on this one

Warnings: talks of abuse (no details) and trauma (no details)

Max loved joining her in the studio. He loved sitting there, watching her do her thing. The deal was that he couldn't listen as she was recording (that was fine with Max. He loved watching what she did, loved the dancing she couldn't stop herself from doing as she sang).

Her older music played softly while she streamed. He was the most supportive boyfriend she'd ever had, and she was the same to him. Where he played her music wherever he could to show his support, she wore her 33 necklace at all times (the 1 charm was added when he won his first championship).

There wasn't much Max knew about this album, just that it was called Maxie. Maxie. It was going to make him look sappy as shit when the world found out about it, but he didn't care.

Just like the rest of the world, Max was waiting for the album to drop. He didn't know he was going to be the first to listen to it.

He certainly didn't picture this. Her sitting on his lap as the first song in the new album played. It was a soft, slow, melodic song. Max listened to the lyrics, telling the story of how they first met.

The songs were about them, about him. About how much she loved him, about his career. Two hundred miles per hour, ready to make my heart shatter. Her fear around his career, wrapped around lyrics about how proud she was.

max. He wasn't ready for the song called max. The song about his childhood, a story told from the point of view of someone on the outside looking in. It's too late to save him, but she's there to pick up the pieces, to help him through the trauma. Trauma not realised until later.

"I wasn't sure about keeping that one on the album," she confessed as she looked at his face, looked at the tears gathering in his eyes. "I don't have to if you don't want me to."

Max pulled her closer. "I love you," he whispered and kissed her.

[bangchansdirty-slut]

My Dopamine

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Top!Giselle x Member!Bttm! Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Giselle wrote "Dopamine" about you and couldn't help but express what the song is really about when you asked her.

More: Masterlist

A/n: I couldn't stop listening to Dopamine by Giselle and Roses by Jaehyun while writing this. I might be obsessed with these songs. Also, should I write fan fiction based on the other members' solo songs?

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Giselle sat on the couch on the stage, the lights dimming around her as the music began to swell. The audience, a sea of waving lightsticks, was entranced by the opening notes of her solo performance. She took a deep breath, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. This was the moment she had been waiting for, a chance to showcase her own voice and her own story. As she opened her mouth to let the lyrics flow, she thought about the inspiration behind the song. Her eyes searched the shadows offstage, finding the familiar figure of Y/n, who was watching her intently.

The words of "Dopamine" spilled from Giselle's lips, each syllable a declaration of the intense passion she felt for her secret lover. Her rap was sharp and precise, the bass vibrating through the stadium as she spit verses filled with desire and lust. She knew Y/n would recognize the subtle references to their clandestine encounters, the way she spoke of her body as if it were a sacred text that only the two of them could read. The chorus hit, and Giselle's gaze held steady on Y/n, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she sang about the taste of her, the feel of her, the way she was Giselle's dopamine fix.

Backstage, Y/n felt a rush of heat as the realization dawned on her. Her eyes widened as she watched Giselle perform, her cheeks flushing at the explicit nature of the lyrics. She knew that the other members and the staff wouldn't catch on, but for her, it was as if the song was a love letter played out for the world to see. Her heart raced, her breath shallow, as she listened to the words that painted a vivid picture of their secret moments together. The crowd roared their approval, and Y/n couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement and exposure at the same time.

After the concert, the members of Aespa made their way back to their hotel. The energy of the show still pulsed through their veins as they chattered about the performance, but Y/n remained quiet, lost in thought. When they finally reached their hotel room, she turned to Giselle, her eyes searching for any signs of embarrassment or regret. Instead, she found only a smoldering gaze that sent a bolt of desire straight to her core. Giselle's smirk grew wider as she leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. "You know that song was all about your delicious body, don't you?"

Before Y/n could respond, Giselle closed the distance between them and pushed her onto the bed. With surprising strength, she tugged at Y/n's skirt, revealing the matching set of lacy panties she had picked out earlier. Her eyes gleamed with hunger as she pulled the fabric aside and bent her head to kiss the soft skin of Y/n's inner thighs. "I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore," Giselle murmured, her breath hot against Y/n's skin. "You're my muse, my addiction."

Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head as Giselle's tongue darted out to trace her folds. She had always been sensitive, but with Giselle's expert touch, it felt like every nerve was on fire. Her moans grew louder, filling the room as Giselle's mouth moved closer to the spot she craved. Giselle's hands were everywhere, now they're holding her hips in place as she explored her with a hunger that was unmatched.

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, Y/n felt a surge of power. Despite being the one on her back, she knew she had just as much control in this situation as Giselle did. She reached down, her fingers tangling in Giselle's hair, and pushed her face closer to her wetness. Giselle's eyes sparkled with challenge, but she didn't hesitate. Her tongue delved into Y/n's core, making her gasp and arch off the bed. The sensation was intense, a perfect blend of pleasure and pressure that had Y/n's legs shaking and her toes curling.

Giselle's ministrations grew more fervent, her tongue swirling and flicking against Y/n's clit with a precision that spoke of countless hours of practice. Y/n's moans grew louder, echoing through the hotel room like a siren's call. She felt Giselle's hand slip up her tank top, seeking out her hardened nipples. The pinching and twisting sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her pussy, and she bucked her hips against Giselle's face. The world outside of their embrace faded away, leaving only the two of them in a cocoon of lust and desire.

Y/n's breath hitched as Giselle's teeth grazed her sensitive bud, and she couldn't help but let out a loud cry. The sound seemed to spur Giselle on, her movements becoming more insistent. Y/n felt her orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to consume her. She gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white with the effort to hold on, her eyes squeezed shut as if to keep the intensity within. But it was too much, and she shattered, her body convulsing with the force of her release.

Giselle looked up at Y/n, a smug smile playing on her lips, as the latter lay panting and trembling beneath her. "You're mine, Y/n," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Every inch of you is my dopamine." She began to strip away her own clothes, revealing her toned body and the matching lingerie she had chosen for the evening. Y/n felt a mix of excitement and vulnerability as she watched Giselle's confidence grow.

They settled into a 69 position, Y/n eager to return the favor. But Giselle's own arousal was a distraction. Her scent filled the air, and Y/n's mouth watered at the thought of tasting her. She tried to focus on Giselle's pussy, but her own need was still so raw and demanding. Giselle's fingertips danced across her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her body, making it impossible to concentrate.

Giselle's moans grew louder as Y/n's mouth worked on her. Her tongue lapped and swirled, trying to mimic the moves that had brought her to the edge just moments before. But Giselle was relentless, her fingers moving faster, pressing harder, until Y/n's world narrowed to the point between her legs. Her hips began to move, grinding into Giselle's mouth, her moans becoming cries.

Y/n squirted again, the warmth of her release coating Giselle's mouth and chin. Giselle pulled back, licking her lips clean with a satisfied smile. "Baby you need to please me too," she whispered,, her voice filled with need. Y/n nodded, feeling the urgency building within her as well. They shifted, and Giselle is now straddling Y/n's face, her pussy hovering just above her mouth. Y/n opened her eyes and took in the sight of her lover, her body begging for more.

Giselle's pussy was a masterpiece, wet and swollen from desire. Y/n eagerly dove in, her tongue darting out to taste her. Giselle's hips began to rock immediately, setting a rhythm that had both of them moaning in pleasure. Giselle's hand found Y/n's hair, guiding her movements, as she worked her own clit with the other hand. Y/n's own arousal grew, her pussy throbbing in response to the sound of Giselle's pleasure.

The taste of Giselle was like nothing she had ever experienced, a heady mix of sweet and salty that made Y/n feel high. She felt Giselle's muscles tighten around her face as she brought her closer to the brink. The scent of their combined desire was intoxicating, filling the room and making it difficult to think about anything but the moment. Giselle's thighs trembled, and Y/n knew she was close.

With a final, desperate thrust of her hips, Giselle came hard, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. She collapsed onto the bed next Y/n, panting and smiling. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with the scent of arousal. Y/n looked up at her, eyes glazed over with lust, her mouth still slick with Giselle's juices.

Giselle came closer and kissed Y/n, the taste of their shared pleasure mingling on their tongue. Y/n's body was still humming with the aftershocks of her own climax, but she craved more. Giselle lets go and stands up, her eyes never leaving Y/n's. "Let's go shower," she suggests with a wink, her voice husky from the passionate exchange.

Y/n nods, her legs wobbly as she stands. They walk into the bathroom, the tiles cold against their bare feet, the contrast making their skin tingle with excitement. The shower is already steaming up the room, and Giselle steps in, holding out a hand to help Y/n in. The water cascades down their bodies, washing away the sweat and the evidence of their desire. They stand under the spray, kissing deeply, their bodies pressed together as the water runs over their curves.

[domm1etae]

OKAY WAIT HEAR ME OUT I JS HAD A IDEA. In honor of ateez nee comeback obviously.. the lyrics “you the one im tryna finish” HELLO?

SO! Yunho smut, where he js comes home from preforming the new somg, still in his suit.. then you rant abt the mv.. AND JT LEADS TO EATING U OUT!

“you the one im tryna finish”

you the one im tryna finish

yunho x f!reader

oneshot | mdni

1.4k

Yunho walks in fresh off the stage looking like sin in a suit, and one thing leads to another..

nsfw tags under

m/f, dom yunho, boyfriend!yunho, sub reader, post-performance, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), soft dominance, teasing, praise, thigh kisses, light possessiveness, intimate couch setting, body worship, cocky

The soft click of the door unlocking pulls your attention from the television. A rush of anticipation bubbles up as the handle turns, the familiar sound of Yunho’s steps filling the quiet apartment. When he steps inside, it’s as though the world outside ceases to exist.

Still dressed in his stage suit, he looks like he’s walked straight out of a dream. The fitted jacket hugs his broad shoulders, the dark fabric accentuating his tall frame. A few strands of his hair stick to his forehead, the remnants of sweat from hours of performing only adding to the allure. He pulls at the knot of his tie, loosening it slightly as his gaze finds you on the couch.

“Hey,” he greets, his deep voice soft and tinged with exhaustion, yet his smile is radiant.

Your heart flutters in response. “Yunho,” you call, grabbing the remote and pausing the music video you’ve been rewatching. The screen freezes on a shot of him staring into the camera with that smoldering gaze that makes your stomach twist. You point at the TV, your cheeks already warm. “We need to talk about this.”

His brow arches as he steps further into the room, slipping off his shoes by the door. “Talk about what?” he asks, amusement lacing his tone. The tie hangs loosely around his neck now, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone, giving you a teasing glimpse of his collarbone.

You gesture wildly toward the screen. “This whole music video. You. The suit. The choreography. The lyrics. ‘You the one I’m tryna finish’? What the hell, Yunho?!”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm, but there’s something in the way he looks at you—a flicker of intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “You didn’t like it?” he teases, his tone light, though his smirk suggests he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“No, I didn’t like it,” you reply, your voice rising in faux indignation. “I loved it. Too much, in fact. Now I’m sitting here rethinking every choice I’ve ever made and wondering how I’m supposed to live my life after—”

Your words falter as Yunho crosses the room, his long strides bringing him to the couch in seconds. He drops down beside you, the cushions sinking under his weight, and leans closer, one arm draping along the backrest behind you. His presence is overwhelming, his cologne still clinging faintly to his skin.

“Go on,” he says, his voice lower now, almost a murmur. “I’m listening.”

Your throat feels dry as you look at him. The way he’s watching you, his lips curled into a faint smile, his eyes half-lidded and dark with amusement—it’s too much. You try to summon your earlier indignation, but it’s hard to focus when he’s this close.

“You—” you start, your voice faltering as his hand lifts to your face, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline.

“Me?” he prompts, tilting his head. His voice is teasing, but his touch is anything but. His fingers trail down to your chin, tilting your face toward him.

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours. The kiss is sudden, stealing the breath from your lungs. It’s not gentle—there’s a heat to it, a hunger that leaves no room for hesitation. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue brushes against yours, deepening the kiss.

Your hands instinctively find the front of his shirt, clutching the fabric as you let yourself get lost in him. The world outside fades, your earlier rant forgotten as his lips move against yours, coaxing soft whimpers from your throat.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing is uneven, his forehead resting lightly against yours. His eyes search yours, a mix of desire and something deeper swirling in their depths.

“You’re the one I’m tryna finish,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a mischievous smile as his thumb brushes over your lower lip.

The words send a wave of heat crashing through you, and before you can process them, he’s moving. His hands slide down to your thighs, tugging you effortlessly into his lap as he leans back against the couch cushions. His large hands spread over your legs, his thumbs drawing slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

“You’ve been thinking about me all night, haven’t you?” he asks, his voice low and tinged with something possessive.

You want to argue, but the way his hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as he leans down to press a kiss to your neck, steals any coherent thought from your mind. “Y-Yunho—”

He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your skin. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

His hands move with purpose, sliding under the hem of your shorts. He shifts, laying you back against the cushions as he kneels between your legs. His eyes roam over you, dark and filled with intent, as he tugs your shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion, leaving you bare beneath his gaze.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice soft yet filled with reverence. His hands glide up your thighs, spreading them apart as he lowers himself, his breath hot against your skin.

The first press of his lips against your inner thigh has your heart racing, and when his tongue flicks out to tease you, you can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips. Yunho hums in approval, the vibrations sending shivers through your body.

He doesn’t rush, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that leave you trembling beneath him. His lips close around your clit, and the sensation is enough to make your back arch off the couch, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Yunho,” you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper.

He glances up at you, his eyes hooded and burning with desire. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice low and wrecked. “Let me hear you.”

The sound of his voice, combined with the way his tongue works against you, sends you spiraling. He alternates between teasing flicks and firm, deliberate circles, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as your body trembles beneath him.

Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, the tension building and coiling tighter with each passing second. Yunho’s name falls from your lips in a broken chant, and when he groans against you, the vibrations push you to the edge.

You shatter, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you. Yunho doesn’t stop, his tongue coaxing you through your orgasm, drawing every last ounce of pleasure from you until you’re left trembling and breathless.

When he finally pulls back, his lips glistening and his breathing uneven, he presses a soft kiss to your thigh before sitting back on his heels. His hands slide up your legs, soothing the trembling muscles as his gaze meets yours.

“You’re amazing” he says, his voice filled with quiet awe.

He climbs back onto the couch, pulling you into his arms as he kisses you softly, his tongue brushing yours in a way that’s both possessive and tender. His hands cradle your face, his touch gentle despite the intensity of the moment.

“You belong to me” he murmurs against your lips, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you let the aftershocks of your release wash over you. In his embrace, the world feels distant, as though nothing else exists but the two of you.

Yunho’s fingers trail lazily along your back, his touch soothing as he holds you close. The faint hum of the television in the background fades into nothing, replaced by the sound of his heartbeat against your ear.

“I love you” he whispers, the words so soft you almost miss them.

You tilt your head to look at him, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his expression. “I love you too” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curve into a smile, and he presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you. In his arms, you feel safe, cherished, and completely his.

[crappymixtape]

sweet like summer

REQUEST → @palmtreesx3, SUMMER BLURB PARTY ❝ 💿 bff's to lovers maybe a little spicy – summer steve. summer steve! ( song x blurb with steve harrington x reader – this one is a lil fluffy, a lil flirty, a lil hot, roadtripping the west coast with stevie and stopping at a bar to dance after spending all day at the beach – recommended to listen to your song while reading! )

S W E E T L I K E S U M M E R SONG PICK -> 🎶 sunset girl, carpool tunnel

Your hair was still windswept, salt turned wavy and kissed by the sun and your sandals scratched in the sand under your feet on the dance floor. The west coast was unlike anything you’d ever seen, definitely nothing like Hawkins, and you wished you could bottle it up and bring it home with you.

It was all sunshine and surfer boys, shells and sea glass, gulls crying out over the crash of the waves and warm sand under your skin. California was your last stop, though Steve had teased about taking a detour through New Mexico on the way back, and you were trying to drink up every last little drop. You never wanted to leave.

You’d found the little hole in the wall taco joint on Trip Advisor and damn if the reviews weren’t right. It was some of the best food you’d ever had and Tuesdays had live music. There wasn’t a free table in the whole place and the dance floor was crowded, filled with people swaying along with the twangy riffs and reverbs coming from the surf rock band on stage.

Three margaritas deep, you could’ve sworn you were floating with the way your best friend held you close to his chest, Steve, Steve, Steve. One hand pressed wide and warm to your lower back and the other tangled up with yours. He hadn’t stopped grinning the second you got up from your table, but when the music slowed a bit it softened. Shifted smaller, unsure, a mixture of what if we mess this up and I've never wanted you more. He’d never looked at you like that before, but you found yourself lost in it as the lyrics wove through the space between you.

❝ WHAT D'YOU GOT GOING ON TONIGHT? I CAN TELL BY YOUR CURLY HAIR, WE'LL BE FADED OUT OF SIGHT.

Steve slowed, feet bumping into yours and a breathy laugh fell from your lips.

“Steve–”

He chuckled too, “Sorry.”

But then his eyes met yours, warm honey, burnt caramel, like swimming in a pool of liquid amber and it was like you couldn’t breathe. Your pulse fluttering against your neck and heart skipping in your chest.

Steve’s lips pulled up at the corner, shy, his fingers shifting over the thin fabric of your dress at your waist. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, tongue chasing over his lower lip. “I really want to kiss you,” he murmured and your skin buzzed where his fingers pressed to you. Singing under his touch, more, more, more.

❝ CAN'T PUSH IT, IF I DARE. OH, MY GIRL, MY GIRL.

The band didn’t exist anymore and everyone else faded away, blurring and swept away by the feeling of Steve. You heard gulls and the soft wash of waves on the sand, saw the way Steve smiled at you as he pulled you into the surf with him.

“Wanna kiss you too,” you whispered back and it was like you’d redefined time. Seconds more like minutes or hours, stretching out as Steve leaned closer and closer.

The soft sweep of his lashes over the apples of his cheeks, the strong line of his jaw and the moles chasing down his neck, the perfectly messy brown locks of hair falling over his forehead and lips so soft, pressed to yours.

Tentative, slow, langid, curious, wanting.

❝ A GEM, SO PERFECT YOU SEE. A DREAM, SO RARE.

It was a little shy at first, but as soon as you’d tasted each other you knew you were done for, would never have enough, would always be left wanting more, more, more.

“More Steve,” you said into him and he swallowed your words, pulled soft, sweet sounds from you and nestled them deep between his ribs to bloom like wildflowers, a bright, warm thing he would cherish forever.

His fingers squeezed at your waist, pressing into the plush of your hip and pulling you into him so close you could smell the faded scent of his coconut sunscreen, cedar and leather from his aftershave this morning and the sweet, heady musk of sweat – beading along the hollow of his collarbone, the swell of your chest, the press of your bodies in the heat.

He nosed at your neck and you gave him more access, head tilting back lazy, drugged, drowning in Steve as he dragged kisses across your skin and the sounds that had started out soft and sweet shifted needy. A low whine that blew his pupils wide and when you carded your hands through his hair, tugged on the ends and made him see stars, he squeezed at your hand.

❝ I'D GO THE EXTRA MILE TO SEE HER AT MY DOOR ONCE MORE – SUNSET GIRL.

“Take me back to the room,” you whispered, lips brushing against the shell of his ear and it melted any reservations he had left.

“Mmhm,” was all he could manage.

His fingers tangled up with yours as he led you out of the restaurant, both of you laughing low under your breaths at how ridiculous you felt, at how desperate it was. He’d turn to catch you in a kiss at the crosswalks and you’d tug at his bottom lip, drive him crazy, pushing yourselves to the point you were practically running back to the hotel.

And when you finally fell in through the door at your room, fingers scrambling to tug your dress up over your head, throwing his shirt off to the floor, Steve made you fall apart again and again until long after the ocean swallowed the sun.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[cookiescribble]

Promised Me The Sky, Tossed Me Like A Stone

A/N: It’s been a bit since I’ve posted on this blog so uhh here ya go! I was listening to In Pieces by Linkin Park and got inspired. That song is about Gale’s feelings toward Mystra, I stg (I’m joking but it screams “I was tossed aside by my goddess lover” to me with some of those lyrics). Enjoy tho!- Mod Ghost

Summary: Stargazing and philosophizing with the rizzard known as Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep

Pairing: Gale Dekarios x GN!Tav

“…may I speak with you about something that’s been on my mind recently?” Gale began, breaking the silence between the two of you as you lay together in the grass to stare up at the starry expanse of night with intertwined hands.

“Yes, darling?” You replied, turning to lay on your side so you could look at him instead of the inky blackness above the two of you. He was much more interesting than some blips a few trillion miles into space.

“I’ve been wondering…why didn’t you take the chance to be with Halsin? When he asked you to?” he spoke in a soft tone, one you’d never heard from him before.

“I’m…not sure what you mean. It’s exactly as I told you then, I’d rather be with you. You’re the one I love.” You mimic the cadence of his voice, empathizing with the pain he was clearly feeling somewhere deep within him as you gently stroke your fingers through his hair.

“Why? He’s much more of a man than I, and could prove that to you any day,” He chuckled, but there was no mirth to his expression. It felt cold. Flat. As if he was simply trying to lighten your mood as well as his own.

You felt your heart clench with an aching despair as you took in his question, moving to sit up as you continued to hold his gaze. Even if he wouldn’t tear his eyes away from what was ahead of him.

“Gale…look at me.” You whisper tenderly, taking hold of his chin between your thumb and forefinger to turn his face toward your own in order to urge him further, “You are the one I love, the one I adore, even. Not Halsin, not Astarion, not Karlach…you, and I will continue to tell you the very same even after the day you finally are able to feel that. To know that I would give anything just to see your smile, to hear your laughter. Alright?”

The wizard simply lay there, in stunned awe, for a moment. As if he just didn’t understand that someone could love him so readily, so deeply. It startled him but he was warming up to the idea, letting himself welcome it. How could you find him so alluring anyway? He’s just…

Gale.

He’s just some wizard, a man that spent most of his life with his nose pressed into one book or another. Mystra’s discarded guard dog. If he wasn’t good enough for a goddess of all people, how could he even possibly begin to deserve love from you? The being closest to perfection that he’d ever encountered, let alone been with. The one who makes him forget his goddess, makes it tolerable to live again without her and brightens all the colors of the world just by being there. You were his everything and more, but he’s been so used to giving his all to Mystra only for her to give him scraps in return that weren’t even fully his.

To her, he was one of many. A mere drop in a plentiful ocean of lovers, to the point where it didn’t matter that he was her chosen. When she’d initially picked him, brought him into her good graces, he thought that might change things. Gale quickly learned that wasn’t to be the case, because to her, he was nothing but a mediocre experience at best. She had been what his entire existence was devoted to, and he’d been working to correct that. To slowly detach himself from all the threads that she had sewn into his soul. You make that easier for him, though, by treating him with such gentle care that he was only just now starting to truly believe he deserved.

“…Gale, honey, please…? Say something?” you insist, inching closer and adjusting to hold his face with both of your hands, “It’s quite rare that I’ve ever heard you be silent.” you continue with a tease, trying to summon some kind of reaction from your wizard.

He merely chuckled once more at first, before he spoke, “You…astound me. I have never in my life felt so out of my depth. I’d have plenty of reason to believe you were a siren if we were at sea, showing me my greatest desires as if it were as easy as breathing. Or even a god yourself, but that simply isn’t the case. None of the gods I’ve ever tangled with have shown close to half of the divinity you possess. I truly feel that you were sent from the heavens, but it has taken some doing to realize that it was specifically for me. I love you, too, with all of my heart and soul.” his voice came in almost a whisper, the wind carrying it gently from him to you.

It was more relieving than any balm sold by the best healers in the realm to hear him say that. You smiled, tugging him closer and laying your head on his chest while his hand settled on your lower back. Staring upwards while you lay in his embrace, the vast blanket of stars above you seemed much less daunting now, knowing that whatever was ahead would be conquered with Gale. Getting this far in your adventures together had been treacherous, but it felt effortless at his side. You now realize that it was love that fueled you, that urged you on all this time. To see this through with hopefully a bright future on the other side.

It’s what Gale, as well as you, had more than earned.

No matter what it cost you, it was what you were more than willing to give to him.

“Have you ever thought about killing Mystra?” your voice tore through the silence, almost startling him before he spoke himself,

“What?”

“What? She’s done nothing but–”

“You wish to kill the goddess of magic for…what, for me?”

“Why do you say that as if it’s so ridiculous?”

“Because it’s the goddess of magic!”

“I’m well aware of that–”

“We are not killing the goddess of magic. I use magic entirely too much for that.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, “and that’s the only reason?”

“I’ve long since stopped from trying to tell you that killing is wrong, my love.”

“How very clever of you.”

That ended the lighthearted threatening of Mystra’s life, at least for now, and left the two of you in silence to stargaze until you fell asleep where you lay, a few miles away from camp and wrapped in each other’s arms.

[frvnkcastles]

I'd love to give you and idea for like a part 2 to your reader that struggles with reading and air control? Maybe reader is home alone and frank is out with Matt on rooftopsand matt hears you singing with perfect control and brings frank closer so he can hear? Frank flicks her a text asking if she can fix 3 plates for dinner as he's gonna bring a guest and they come in through the fire escape. Matt's being a flirty prick and it gets Frank's hackles up where he ends up telling him eat and gtfo of our place and the reader just beam

(The reader had a perfect rasp to ding along to Teddy Swims? Please)

BURN A LITTLE BRIGHTER TONIGHT ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Frank brings Matt over for dinner, only to regret it sooner rather than later.

Warnings: Mostly just fluff, jealous Frank, feminine nicknames, language

Word count: 1.6k

Author’s note: Anon, thank you so much for being patient with me, I know I took a long time with this and I do feel really bad about it! I hope you like it <3

Frank was still firmly of the opinion that him and Matt were not friends. But begrudgingly, he had to admit that he had grown to tolerate the guy — enough to invite him over for dinner. The two had been working together for the past couple of nights and despite their differences on how to approach the criminals they had been tracking, they had gotten the job done. In the process Frank had also learned more about Matt than he would have preferred, but upon realizing that the man was a little lonely lately, he reluctantly extended an offer to get some food and beer in him. He could be an asshole, but he considered himself incredibly lucky to share a life with you, and he pitied Matt for not having that same luxury.

He just didn’t realize that bringing Matt to you would involve the man getting overly eager about you.

”Huh, what is it?” Frank queried when Matt suddenly stopped on the rooftop, his head tilted curiously to listen closely, and it got Frank alert in an instant. They had taken care of a bunch of crooks already, but he was prepared to fight some more if necessary, and as much was obvious from the way he quickly reached for his gun.

”Listen”, was all Matt said, not explaining a single thing, and it earned a displeased grunt from Frank. He hated how vague the man could be — especially when he didn’t have the same hyper-sensitive hearing that Matt seemed to flaunt.

But when he gave in and focused, he could hear exactly what Matt had stopped for. It was a singing voice that could only be described as enchanting and impressive… and it belonged to you. Frank had heard you sing the occasional catchy jingle or a few lyrics from your favorite song, enough for him to recognize it, but he had never witnessed it like this. It was so carefree and glorious, with no restraints or worries about anyone hearing, and it made his heart leap in his chest. You always found new ways to amaze him, to make him fall for you just a little harder, and it melted his tough exterior as he listened in.

”That’s my girl”, Frank breathed out, both praising and surprised, his eyes wide and his hand dropping from the gun hidden in the waistband of his pants. He was captivated by your voice, and he almost forgot about Matt next to him, only for the man in red to cut through his daze.

”Does she know we’re on our way?” he asked, and snapping out of his admiration for you, Frank glanced at him.

”Shit, no, I didn’t text her yet. Gimme a moment”, he grumbled, digging out his phone and typing a quick message to you to inform that he was coming home and bringing Matt with him. It had become your little routine to cook for him so he wouldn’t have to start from scratch or eat from a can, and he appreciated it greatly — sometimes, he tried putting up a fight about it, insisting that it wasn’t fair for you to be doing all the work, but you loved taking care of him. Tonight, he hoped, you wouldn’t mind an extra plate at the table.

Only moments after he had sent the message, the singing ceased, and Frank figured you didn’t want to be caught in the act. His heart swelled in his chest, wondering if it would be appropriate for him to bring up your voice because he truly thought it was beautiful. Still, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

You were all smiles when Matt and Frank came in through the fire escape, wiping your hands in a kitchen towel and taking in their appearance in the worry that one of them was injured. Frank could read your face easily, and he was quick to reassure you.

”We’re alright, sweetheart”, he rasped while stepping over to you, cradling your head so he could plant a soft kiss on your forehead. ”Shouldn’t be leavin’ the window open”, he chastised you gently, his tone firm but loving.

You chuckled and squeezed his shoulder. ”I have to, ’cause my boyfriend doesn’t know how to use a door”, you countered, earning a gruff laugh from Frank. As he went to hang up his jacket by the front door, you turned to Matt who was taking off his mask and ruffling his hair. ”I hope you like pasta carbonara, I made plenty for all of us”, you announced with a soft smile.

”It’s perfect. Thank you for having me. You’re very kind”, Matt nodded with gratitude, delighting you. Frank in turn gave him a suspicious look — on one hand, he wanted you to be appreciated, but on the other, he had very little tolerance for anyone, but especially Matt, sweet-talking his girl.

You helped Matt to the dining table and with Frank’s help, got plates for all three of you. You had barely dug into the food when Matt was speaking up again, mentioning the topic that Frank had purposefully dodged for now.

”I must say, you’re a wonderful singer”, he began, and with an open mouth, you glanced between him and Frank, surprised that he had heard you. Then again, he did have a particular talent for catching things most people never would.

”Oh—I—thank you, that’s sweet”, you rambled, caught a little off-guard, and Frank noticed it in your nervous smile.

”Uh, yeah, we heard ya, darlin’. He’s right, though, you’re… you’re real talented. I loved it”, Frank cut in, a genuine look in his eyes. It grounded you, and with a slow nod, you reached for his hand across the table and held on tightly. He could tell you hadn’t been prepared to receive praise on the matter, so he opened his mouth to change the subject, but Matt beat him to it.

”Truly, you’ve got an amazing voice”, he continued, making Frank glare at him in a way that surely he could feel in his bones. But whether or not he did, he still wasn’t done. ”I’m sure it’s as beautiful as the rest of you”, Matt went on with a knowing smirk on his face. Heat crawled to your cheeks and you didn’t really know what to say — Frank, however, had had about enough.

”Alright, quit it, Red. It ain’t your job to make her feel special”, he warned him, zero amusement in his stare as he chomped down some more pasta, perfectly balancing his meal with the mean look in his eyes. He knew you could handle yourself, and with any other guy, he would have let you do just that, but Matt was a different story. He got under Frank’s skin far too easily, sometimes probably on purpose, and he wasn’t going to entertain his little attempts to charm you.

”I’m just saying, Frank’s a very lucky guy to be with you”, he spoke once more, and at that, your boyfriend finally snapped.

”Fuckin’ hell, Red. That’s it. Finish the food and get the fuck out, yeah?” he declared curtly, not taking no for an answer. ”Goddamn, I went out of my way to invite you and you pull this shit…”, he muttered to himself, poking at the food with his fork angrily.

You couldn’t help but smile carefully, touched that Frank was so serious about you, even if you had been seconds away from telling Matt to take it easy and back off. Frank had nothing to worry about, but you still loved seeing how protective he was of you.

The rest of the meal went by in awkward silence, but Matt made sure to thank you once more before leaving. He made so with haste, not wanting to stick around for any longer than necessary in case Frank would punch him out of the door, and you didn’t blame him. The tension in the room was immensely obvious and as soon as Matt had left, you gravitated over to Frank who was scrubbing the dishes with vicious force.

”Think you scared him off for good”, you mentioned, and with a snort, Frank shrugged.

”Good. Teaches him not to flirt with my girl”, he scoffed, putting an amused smile on your face. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek, which threatened to break his solemn expression.

”You’re cute when you get all jealous”, you noted, and finally, Frank looked over to you, his face telling you that he didn’t like being called jealous. In fact, he didn’t like acting jealous, either, but it seemed Matt brought out the worst in him.

Instead of protesting, Frank returned to another topic. ”Really surprised me with that voice of yours, darlin’. How come I ain’t ever hear you sing like that?” he wondered, dropping the dish brush in the sink and placing both hands on your hips. He pulled you in closer, his tall frame looming over you and his dark eyes full of curiosity and affection for you — clearly, you had managed to burst the angry bubble around him.

You grew shy and shrugged. ”I dunno. It’s just a random thing I do, I guess. I usually do it when I’m cooking or cleaning and most times that happens when I’m home alone”, you explained, and with an understanding nod, Frank reached to brush your hair away from your face.

”I think it’s fuckin’ incredible. You’re amazin’ at everythin’ you do, sweetheart. Would love it if you sang more, y’know? I gotta hear it”, he pointed out, a tender smile touching upon his lips as he looked at you.

”Okay”, you whispered, ”thank you, Frank.” You had been a little embarrassed to be caught singing at first, but hearing Frank say all those things brought your walls down, and it certainly meant a lot more coming from him rather than from Matt.

”Attagirl”, he kissed the top of your head, ”and I ain’t lettin’ that asshole Red hear it again.”

[freesia-writes]

Ch 43: Settling

Master List ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ WC: 2.4k

Adele - Make You Feel My Love (Lyrics) (youtube.com)

.

Hunter’s quick knock on Lyra’s door was answered more slowly than usual, and he shifted his weight on the front porch as he ruminated on whether or not he had waited long enough to come. It had been the crack of dawn when he woke from a deep sleep, feeling as bright and springy as he could remember. The hours until his arrival at her home had felt agonizing, but he’d forced himself to wait an appropriate amount of time, knowing that she wasn’t a morning person. 

“Good morning,” she murmured, a bit fuzzy still. 

“Hi.” 

“I have a bone to pick with you.” Her voice was low and calm, but the mischievous glint in her eye gave him pause. She tilted her head, beckoning him to follow, and they walked to the back of the cottage where the morning light streamed through the windows. Hunter noticed that the plant with the little heart-shaped buds was still where he’d left it the night before – unwrapped in the center of her table – only it appeared that some of the blossoms had opened.

“What the kriff…” he muttered, shocked and appalled for a full ten seconds before the look on Lyra’s face began to melt it into humor. “She did not tell me they would do that… I mean, she said they’d bloom… but…”

“I do have some questions,” Lyra giggled, handing him a steaming cup of caf before sitting beside him with her own. 

“I mean… So do I…”

Both of their eyes rested on the plant, where the few largest buds had burst apart, revealing a rather interesting shape dangling out of each one. The bottom of each “heart” had split, curling up to either side, and a decidedly phallic structure poked out the bottom. He now saw that even the flowers that hadn’t yet opened were somewhat… curved… at the bottoms, with a slit up the middle that looked an awful lot like…

“Did you have a certain sentiment in mind when you chose this?” she asked, keeping her face and voice carefully neutral, but he could feel her bursting at the seams. 

“The florist said they’d be a hit…” he said slowly, a grin spreading across his face with each word. How had he not noticed… “I said I wanted something that was beautiful in its simplicity… And she said…” The realization dawned on him, and he buried his forehead in a hand. “She said they bring a smile every time.”

“I can imagine,” Lyra agreed, pressing her lips together in the last remaining shred of solemnity. “And did she share the name of this particular plant? I believe its scientific name might be something along the lines of Penillis Vaginia?”

Hunter coughed behind his hand, dropping it immediately to stare at her in delighted disbelief. “Listen to you!”

“Sorry! I know!” she burst out, clapping her own hand over her mouth. “It’s just… look at those things!” He dissolved into laughter as well, simultaneously embarrassed and elated. It was comforting for the humor to be shared, and he felt closer to her than ever. 

“Yeah… You should probably… I don’t know...” He quieted into a few lingering chuckles, eyes brightening with an impish idea. “Put it on your desk at work.”

“Oh my gosh!” she squealed, smacking his arm before leaning into his shoulder. “Can you imagine?!”

“No one would get any work done.” He sighed, resting his cheek on her hair for a moment.

“So… business as usual…” she snickered. 

He grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

* * * 

The door to the butcher shop swung open so quickly that the little bell hanging from it was flung in a complete loop, but Hunter was deep in a kod’yok carcass and scrambled to clean himself off as best he could, cursing under his breath that he’d forgotten to lock the door. He wiped from his wrists to where his shirt was rolled up on his biceps before grabbing a fresh rag and finishing his hands as best he could. Carefully hanging his apron over the drip tray, he ventured toward the front to see who this enthusiastic guest was. 

“Hunter!” Lyra exclaimed, breathless and red-cheeked. “Did you hear about Hanker?” 

His lip curled in disgust at the name, but aside from that, he kept his expression neutral. “What about him?”

“He’s gone… It’s wild… Apparently he somehow crossed some crime family called the Doran Syndicate? That’s not it… I don’t know, I’m not up to date on the criminal underworld…”

“The Durands?”

“Yeah! That’s it! Of course you’d know,” she laughed, unfazed. “But yeah, so whatever he did, they weren’t happy, and I don’t know the details but it was very clear that he wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon… or ever.” 

“Huh.”

“Isn’t that exciting? The island is officially perv-free!” she giggled. “I mean, bummer for whatever happened to him, but it looks like he deserved it, so… I know that’s not kind to say… but… damn, I’m just so relieved.”

“I’m glad,” he murmured, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. 

“Did you have anything to do with it?” Lyra asked quietly, tilting her head and studying him closely.

“It’s just nice he’s gone.”

They stared at one another.

“Alright,” she said finally, a tiny twinkle in her eyes as she sidled a little closer. “Well, whatever happened, it was quite fortuitous.” She leaned in, reaching to kiss him, but he pulled away and held his arms out to the sides. 

“I’m… a little dirty…” he admitted in response to her questioning glance. 

“I guess I’ll have to get used to it,” Lyra grinned, a slightly sultry expression on her face that stirred butterflies in his stomach. 

* * * 

Lyra clattered around in the kitchen, crafting another one of her culinary masterpieces as Hunter reclined in the cushy armchair after his repeated offers to help had been rejected in favor of him entertaining her with stories of his past. It felt so good for him to open up to her fully, to not have to hide any part of who he was. Some memories still felt tender, and she respected his boundaries, trusting that he would share when ready if he deemed it worth sharing. Other adventures left her mouth hanging open in disbelief, stunned both by his elite soldier heroics as well as his complete nonchalance about seemingly impossible missions. A continual concern was rising in her mind – awareness of the vast differences between them. She mulled it over, torn between his insistence that he was happy to put it all behind them and a suspicion that someone who had lived that kind of life would eventually find her to be mundane and boring. She moved to wash the knife she’d been using, her thoughts miles away as she stared at the water running over the blade. 

“Agh! Damn!” she exclaimed suddenly, jerking her hand back and interrupting some account of hordes of batlike creatures swarming them and their treacherous lizard boss. Hunter was at her side immediately, his hawklike gaze searching the sink.

“Cut yourself?” he asked, brows furrowing at the lack of blood or anything at all out of the ordinary.

“No,” Lyra admitted sheepishly, shaking one hand off to the side. “I got water up my sleeve…. And I hate that.” He chuckled as she stuffed a towel into the fabric, doing her best to dry it from the offending droplets. 

“The whole evening is ruined now, I suppose?” he teased, toying with her waist with a boldness that had been growing so quickly that it surprised him. He leaned against her back, nuzzling his lips against her neck as she inhaled sharply, rooted to the spot. “Maybe we’ll have to find something else to do.”

“Um,” she faltered, swallowing hard and failing to suppress a tiny shiver as his breath tickled her ear. “I suppose I could put a timer on the oven while it…” She lost her words as he pressed a kiss to her pulse, eyes closing and head resting back against him. He could feel her heart rate increasing, a tumult of emotions between the two, and it was disproportionately satisfying to him. It was familiar now for him to recognize his desire for the peaceful life that she offered, and yet there was a new kind of desire beginning to occupy more of his thoughts. 

“It’s okay if you’d rather cook,” he murmured, smiling against her skin as she shook her head slowly. She squirmed around in his arms to face him, sliding her palms up his chest and seeming to appreciate every inch. There was a flicker of something in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before, and it sent electricity through his limbs as she spoke. 

“No,” she began tentatively. “I think you may be onto something.” Now it was he who was surprised and delighted as she nudged her nose against his, pausing for a second that seemed to last an eternity before kissing him softly. He didn’t understand how it felt awakening and calming at the same time, but it didn’t matter. His mouth moved slowly against hers, lips sliding against one another, coaxing, enticing… When one of her hands slipped up the back of his neck to bury her fingers in his hair, he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer with the tiniest sigh of contentment. 

She pulled away for a breath, adorably flustered as she rested her hand on his shoulder, the other still on his chest as she nestled in his embrace, feeling his racing heartbeat matching her own. They snuggled together, silent and satisfied… for a moment. 

“Again?” Hunter asked, and Lyra giggled, cupping his face with both hands. He basked in her loving gaze before she kissed him again, flattening herself against his front. His arms remained snug around her, then began to move, palms intently stroking up the middle of her back and roving across her hips. Her body seemed to be waking up more and more, breath quickening as she subtly squirmed against him, her burgeoning passion coaxing out his own hunger. The sigh that fell from her lips stirred him further. His strokes grew heavier. The small of her back. The outside of her arm. The back of her neck. When he slid a hand up the outside of her leg, from thigh to waist, she gasped, separating a few inches. 

“Sorry–” he began, but she shook her head, eyes darkening further as she squeezed his bicep and bit her lip with an incendiary gaze. His body blazed with tingles, and she stepped back, taking his hand and leading him to the couch, where she pushed him down with surprising boldness. When she straddled his legs, settling herself into his lap and burying both fingers in his hair, his head was spinning as quickly as his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. 

It was a late dinner that evening.

* * * 

The sun was low in the sky, warm golden light bathing the horizon and reflecting off of the silver-capped waves of the distant sea. Hunter was tucked comfortably into a hammock with Lyra pressed against his side. They’d crammed themselves into the swing, clearly made for one person, and were gently rocking back and forth as the soothing movement lulled them into bliss. Her hand rested on his knee while his fingers traced idle circles on the outside of her arm. It was a balmy evening, leading her to forego the usual sweater in favor of a sleeveless dress, and he relished the softness of her bare skin beneath the rough pads of his fingertips.

“Hunter?” Lyra said softly, rousing him from the stupor he’d been in as he listened to the faraway waves crashing on the shore. 

“Mmm?” Complete contentment.

“Would you… want to stay here?” Halting inquisition. 

“That’s the plan.” Rumbled reassurance.

“No,” she exhaled softly, a fond smile ghosting her face. “Like, here. From now on. I mean, only if Omega would want the cabin to herself, or maybe with Wrecker, or Breslin… I don’t really know… I just… I want you in everything, and just, like, everything with you, and… oof.”

He tilted his head to look at her, taking in her characteristic fluster that had been softened over time by the safety and comfort they had built together. The full realization of her offer reached him like wisps of a cool breeze on a quiet day. 

“In your hammock?” he asked, fighting and failing to keep his face carefully neutral. But she caught the slight shift of tone in his voice and the faintest flicker of a smirk on his face, rolling her head around and nudging him in the side with her elbow. She had equal difficulty repressing her own mirth.

“Yes,” she attempted, slightly too loud and clumsy. “I want you to live in my hammock. I’ll bring you little treats a few times a day and leave a bowl of water out here for you.”

“Didn’t take you for that kind of girl,” he mused, arching an eyebrow. 

“Huh?”

“I don’t know,” he laughed, shrugging and shifting to face her a bit more. As they settled into their previous calm, allowing the playfulness to recede beneath the irresistible tranquility of the evening, the question lingered heavily between them. Hunter mulled it over. It wasn’t heavy like a begrudging burden, but rather heavy like a thick, warm blanket draped over one’s shoulders after a long journey. His mind wandered down the well-worn paths of analysis. Strategy. Assessment. Consideration. 

Then Lyra kissed him on the cheek, turned back to face the ocean, and nestled into his side with a quiet sigh. And suddenly the whirlwind in his mind quieted, giving way to the unassuming yet unshakable conviction deep down. He’d always had strong instincts – he was made that way. But they were molded and honed over the years for his express purpose, stifled and shaped solely to enhance military strategy and combat performance. And yet they remained, in their basest form, a more faithful guide than his mind had ever been. He echoed her sigh, resting into the peace it brought over him, then spoke.

“If you’ll have me.”

.

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[spikedsoul]

Imagine the fanfic happening in the movie universe.

Honey is the maid (Human, maybe?) that takes care of Bowser, feeding him and listening to his new Peach songs. Until, one day, the songs aren't about Peach anymore.

Gently hold small husband with salad tongs-

CAN YOU IMAGINE also um I couldn't help myself. Did i get carried away? Yes! (Although I didn't include the last bit, sorry!) Hopefully I kept him in character from the movie lmao

You were used to hearing Bowser talk and sing about Peach as you made his food, did his laundry, cleaned his room like the giant manchild he was. The only time he acknowledged that you existed was when he needed to bend someone's ear about his plans (marrying Peach) and Kamek wasn't around... but you weren't complaining. It was steady work and steady pay, and you were taken care of well enough that for now, you could handle it. In fact the only regular direct interaction you had with him was bringing his food, and he usually just snatched it from you without a word.

You'd also been privy to some of his more tender moments, a mere anonymous shoulder to lament to. Over the years, you'd learned to see past the anger, past the obsession, to know he's got a heart buried deep inside that chest - if only someone could reach it. But you kept it all to yourself - he probably still didn't know your name.

And why should he? He was a king, and you were paid to be a maid, silent and invisible. And that was fine. Things didn't need to be complicated. It was a simple business transaction.

You slipped into his music room as you'd done so many times before, listening to him play as you quietly got to work tidying up around him.

Sometimes it felt like he didn't even know you were there - but that allowed you to sort of see under that spiked shell of his, so you really didn't mind. Although, he never stopped playing either way, so who knew?

"Tell me, sweetheart," you heard him rumble over the music, "what is it that keeps you here?"

You hadn't heard those lyrics before, but the spoken word style suited them.

He chuckled - well, cackled more like - as he continued playing. "So diligently taking care of my castle, and me, and never once caring to speak up. So content to stay hidden in the background. You've never recoiled from my touch or looked at me like the villain I am, nor have you let leak any of my.... hmm, less than proud moments. So tell me, my sweet little handmaiden, do you think you're invisible to me?"

You dropped your broom in shock and spun around to see him, but he wasn't anywhere in sight. The only sound that echoed through the chamber now was the clatter of the broom handle hitting the floor.

What the fuck just happened? Did you hallucinate all of that just now? Your wide eyes swept the room in front of you, your mouth hanging open; it's been a while since you'd been on a proper vacation, so maybe you had imagined it...

With a quiet sigh, you turned around to pick up your broom - only to be met with a massive, scaly paw wrapping gently around your throat, clawed thumb forcing your head back by your chin. Your face flushed brightly as you stared doe-eyed right into King Bowser's grinning face.

"L-Lord Bowser," you stammered, absolutely ashamed of how you felt about his warm hand encompassing your neck so easily. Through all your interactions, this was the first time you'd ever touched him, and you had to admit his scales were smoother than you'd expected.

His eyes narrowed as he watched you, his nostrils fluttering as he dragged you a little closer to him. That terrible, beautiful grin didn't leave him.

"My silent little human minion," he purred; his breath wafted over your face, the smell of woodsmoke heavy in your nose. "I've been thinking a lot lately, you know.... about you. About us. About what could be..."

"Wh-what can I do for you, sir?" Your voice quivered and you could feel your throat bob against his hand when you swallowed; his not so subtle implications were making you dizzy.

He hummed, bringing his free hand up to drag his claws through your locks. "I want you to tell me about me. I want to know what a mere human like you thinks of the great Lord Bowser - and I want your true feelings, got it?" he growled quietly. "You've seen more of me than even Kamek is privy to, and I demand to know why you stick around."

You resisted the urge to let out a sigh; he was just fishing for compliments, thank God, despite his thinly veiled threat. If you actually told him the truth, you feared you'd end up dead. Not that you really had bad things to say! Bowser was just a little unpredictable sometimes.

You brought your hands up to lightly rest them over the one that held your throat, but you didn't try pulling away one way or another. That seemed to confuse Bowser, his head tilting to the side as his grin slowly faded.

"Well, sir," you murmured, slowly relaxing, "even though you desire to dominate other kingdoms and crush your enemies... you still seem like you would treat your allies well. I mean, look at me: I'm a lowly maid, but I get paid well and I feel relatively protected on the occasion things get a little... ah, rough. As fierce as you are... I don't feel like I need to fear you, exactly. Which is a good thing as your employee."

Bowser's pupils dilated slightly as he seemed to consider your words. You just hoped they were honeyed enough to appease him instead of set him off, but either way you'd find out in a few seconds.

"...That ain't all, is it?" he finally huffed. "I know you got more opinions on me than that political shit you just spouted, so tell me. Promise I won't get mad." And then he gave you the best puppy dog eyes you'd ever seen.

Oh, heavens help you. There was zero reason for this koopa to be so.... cute.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and then practically blurted out one of your deepest feelings about him: "Sometimes you seem like you could use a real hug and a caring friend."

His jaw dropped as he stared at you in surprise. You stared right back at him, just as surprised that that's what came out.

The silence between the two of you stretched on until you couldn't bear it anymore and you finally turned around, chiming, "M-maybe I should get back to work-"

"Wait!" Before you could even blink, Bowser snatched you off your feet, holding you up in the air like he was afraid you'd try to run.

You blinked at him, a little surprised. "...Yessir?" you asked calmly despite the blush threatening to return. Momentarily, all he did was stare at you a little dumbly before recollecting himself a little.

"I-I, uh, just thought - I mean, if you wanted to give me a real hug, I'd - I'd allow that. And the... friend thing..."

Ah, you knew that code. He wanted a hug, but he didn't want to seem like he wanted it. Poor guy.

"...You know what, now that I think about it, I think a hug would be real nice. How about you let me know every time you're in the mood to allow me to hug you, huh?" you murmured. "And if you'd like me to-"

Bowser nodded, and without hesitation (or letting you finish) he held you to his wide chest, pressing your face right against it. Unfortunately your arms were pinned to your sides so you couldn't really hug back, but you could still feel some of the tension leak out of his body when he realized you weren't squirming or trying to get away.

"You know..." The vibration of his deep voice made your head buzz pleasantly, pressed against his chest as it was. "Between you and me, maybe Peach is just a siren trying to lure me into a false love, using her pretty face to keep me from seeing someone who'd really care about me..."

Since he couldn't see your face, you rolled your eyes. "Then does this mean you have your eyes suddenly set on someone else, sir?" you asked politely.

He set you back on your feet and crouched so that his face was level with yours, his large hands keeping a gentle hold of yours. "I don't know if "suddenly" is the right word... there's been a slow realization over a few years, but I suppose I'm finally ready to give up on Peach in favor of a more promising potential."

You smiled a little, daring to reach out; Bowser's eyes watched your hand as it fell gently on his nose. His pupils blew wide. Although you opened your mouth to say something, it was then that it dawned on you that Bowser wasn't actually crouching - he was kneeling.

"B-Bowser?" you breathed as, once again, your face grew hot with the intensity of your blush. But even as you stared at that adorably sweet face he was making, the sincerity and silent plea for some sort of consensual companionship was almost overwhelming.

"I'm gonna make you my bride one way or another... sweetheart."

[rapunzelbro]

Heartbeats in Harmony 1 Velvette x Reader

An: Hi! So this fanfic is something that came to be literally because of a Chappell Roan song. Reader is super based on her too. This fanfic is taking place in the early 2000’s assuming the show takes place farther in the future. And because well. This is my story lol. Reader is 24 and Velvettes 25. This is before they go to hell and will slowly go into that. Anywho enjoy.

Masterlist 1 2

It's everyone's dream to be famous, to have all the attention on you. The money, the fans screaming song lyrics that you wrote at a large venue. But honestly? All you wanted was some peace and quiet. You wanted one day where you didn't have to worry about what to say in an interview or even how you'd keep a personal life. You knew what you signed up for when you started this career, and you'd never mentally adjust. That's why you created that persona.

The person who had the confidence you didn't, who doesn’t care what she wore, what she sang about. She was everything you wanted to be, but couldn't. She had perfectly styled hair, stunning dramatic makeup with the most sparkly outfit you could imagine. The famous one, the person you hid behind to keep yourself from going insane. Well, at least for right now.

Wincing, you hear the obnoxious noise of your alarm that only intensifies with your hangover, you sit up tiredly to turn it off, only to have it drop to the floor to add to your frustration. “Damn it come on” you mutter, standing up trying to locate where your phone is, laying on the floor to try and grab it from under your bed. A groan followed after taking too long to find it, “Darling, I love you, but you need to stop keeping that shit on after we go to the club” the other side of the bed shifted when you finally found it and sat back down. “I know Vel, I just forgot, sorry baby” Rubbing your eyes you look over at her, moving back under the covers with her, gently kissing her forehead. “Forgiven, come here” she muttered, getting closer to you, placing her head on your chest, her tight curls acting as a cushion, you two stayed in silence as she listened to the rhythm of your heart beat. “You have to leave soon, you know my manager is coming by” you finally spoke up “They can fuck off, no relationships allowed is an idiotic rule.” Velvette muttered sitting up after you ruined the moment. “I know, but it’s only to protect you”

Velvette was a close friend. Oh hell, who were you kidding, she was your girlfriend. You have known each other since highschool, she was the only one you honestly kept in contact with after you graduated. She has one hell of a passion for designing, so when you needed someone to help design your persona, you knew she was the one to help. She knew her shit and was excited to help, being the only one to truly support your desire for a music career, and you being the only one to support her dream of being a fashion designer. You two became inseparable ever since.

But the fame came too quickly practically overnight, it was too overwhelming for the both of you to manage alone, in desperate times you signed over to an industry that had reached out first, you didn’t think of the repercussions. You just needed the help, so you blindly took that deal. They got you started with gigs, collaborations, body guards, so much. But doing so, caused you to have to shift your persona to their standards, limit your friends and relationships. She would be everything as she was before, but more… adult. The songs, the music, dancing, her attitude, it wasn't what you wanted, but you had no choice but to adjust to their demands. While it made your career soar, you couldn't help the loneliness that consumed you.

“How much longer of that contract do you even have left now?” Velvette looked at you, an annoyed look on her face as you took her hand. “Two years, then I can find an agency that doesn’t force me to hide my partner.” Rolling your eyes you give her hand a quick squeeze before going to the bathroom to freshen up. “Though after the song I’m performing tonight, they’ll probably drop my ass” You call out, giving a slight chuckle as you come out of the bathroom beginning your makeup. “You’re seriously going to perform that? You might ruin all we worked for babe..” Velvette stands up draping her arms around your shoulders as she watches you apply your makeup, curiosity lingering in her eyes “If they can’t handle it then maybe they haven’t heard any of my music correctly, and the underlying meanings of it.” You respond by shrugging slightly before turning around in your chair gently putting your hands on her face “I want to show you off, not hide you, the damn rumors of me being with you are not exactly clearing up, why not confirm it?” Kissing her you turn back around to finish your makeup.

Velvette gives a slight hum in agreement, before grabbing her stuff from your room. “See you at 6?” she looks at you as she grabs the door handle. “Wouldn’t miss it” you reply smiling looking back at her. “Kisses Darling, good luck tonight” Velvette waves before leaving. Your smile drops as she leaves, giving a frustrated sigh you continue to prepare for your manager to arrive, you couldn’t wait to cause absolute hell tonight.

Taglist @the--rebel--fae @rainbowbunny15 @anxietycomments @bonkbonkbobk @leathesimp

[niallerspayno]

We’ll Be Alright - Chapter One

Masterlist

A spring breeze sweeps through the bustling streets of London, carrying with it the faint scent of fresh flowers and the hum of city life. You stand on a busy corner, the sound of passing cars blending with the rhythm of your guitar as your fingers expertly pluck the strings. The crowd around you is a blur, but you focus on the music, losing yourself in the melody as it swells through the air.

The microphone in front of you is worn, its stand slightly wobbly, but you hardly notice. Your voice fills the space, raw and unfiltered as you sing the words that have been running through your mind for weeks.

“Shut the door. Turn the light off. I wanna be with you. I wanna feel your love. I wanna lay beside you. I cannot hide this. Even though I try.”

A small crowd starts to gather, drawn by the sound of your voice, a mix of curiosity and appreciation in their eyes. Some of them linger, watching quietly, while others step forward to drop small change into your open guitar case. You glance at them, your eyes meeting theirs, offering a soft smile as gratitude wells up in your chest. It’s small, but it’s enough to keep you going. You let the rhythm take over as you continue singing, feeling a sense of connection with the strangers around you.

“Heart beats harder. Time escapes me. Trembling hands touch skin. It makes this harder. And the tears stream down my face.”

The words hit harder today. Maybe it’s the weather—the way the sun has just started to peek through the clouds, casting a warm golden glow on the pavement. Or maybe it’s the energy of the crowd, their quiet murmurs mixing with the occasional cough or shuffle of feet.

You’ve always dreamed of becoming a famous music artist. You remember the days back home, scribbling lyrics in your notebook, imagining yourself performing on a big stage with thousands of people singing along. And now, here you are, standing on this busy London street, singing for whoever will listen. It's not the stadiums you envisioned, but it’s a start. After finishing school, you packed your bags, heart full of hope, and moved to the city, hoping this moment would come.

So far, the closest you’ve gotten to that dream is busking on these busy streets and posting covers to your social media. The feedback is sporadic—some people love your voice, others just walk by without a second glance—but it’s enough to keep you going, enough to fuel your determination.

“If we could only have this life for one more day. If we could only turn back time.”

As the chorus approaches, you lift your eyes to the crowd. You take a deep breath, trying to centre yourself, and feel the emotions around you—curiosity, admiration, a hint of nostalgia. You channel it all into the next line, your voice rising, stronger now, and you let the song take over completely.

...

“I can’t believe they pulled out on us! Three days before the tour starts!” Louis vents beside Liam, frustration clearly seeping through his words.

They walk down the streets of London, letting the cool air wash over them, hoping that a bit of fresh air will help clear their heads. Paul trails slightly behind, ever vigilant, ready to step in if things get out of hand.

“You can’t be mad at them, Louis. 5SOS are planning their own tour now. They don’t need to be our opening act anymore. I’m happy for them,” Liam says, trying to ease the tension.

Louis huffs, “Surely they could’ve given us more warning though.”

“You know how management is. It was probably out of their control,” Liam reasons, though he’s not completely convinced.

They round the corner and spot a small crowd gathered ahead. Paul instinctively steps in closer to them, his presence a reminder of the scrutiny they’re always under. Liam glances up, curiosity piqued. And then, he hears it.

“You know I’ll be your life, your voice, your reason to be. My love, my heart is breathing for this. Moment in time. I’ll find the words to say. Before you leave me today.”

Her voice is like nothing they’ve ever heard before. It rings through Liam’s body, each note sending a shiver down his spine. He can’t help but stop for a moment, caught in the power of it. And then, his eyes find her. His breath catches in his chest. It’s like the world stops for a second.

She’s beautiful—everything about her voice, the way she holds herself, the effortless way she commands the space around her. And then, she looks up. Her gaze locks with his, and he sees a flicker of recognition, maybe even shock. His heart races, but he can’t move. It’s as if everything around him fades away except for her.

Liam starts to take a step forward, but then he feels a hand on his arm.

“It’s time to go,” Paul announces, breaking the spell.

Paul’s right. The crowd is starting to notice them, and Liam feels the pull of the tour, the obligations that come with it. Paul gently tugs him away, and Louis takes the lead, guiding them back into the moment.

Louis notices the direction of Liam’s gaze and smirks, “I’m sure she’ll be there tomorrow.”

Liam can only hope he’s right. That night, she’s all he thinks about. Her voice echoes through his mind, each word wrapping around him like a melody he can’t shake. But it’s her eyes that haunt him the most. He can still feel the weight of them searching for his. And it’s there, in the quiet of his dreams, that he finds her again.

...

Shocked? Scared? Starstruck? Your mind races when you look up and find Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson watching you perform one of their songs.

The moment feels like it lasts forever, but just as quickly as they appeared, they’re gone. Paul steps in, guiding them away from the growing horde of people heading in their direction.

As the sun dips low on the horizon, you finish packing up your equipment, your hands moving almost mechanically. You start walking home, but Liam’s eyes are burned into your mind, still lingering there as if they never left.

Were they disgusted by what they saw? Is that why they left so suddenly? Or was it the crowd that made them move? You shake your head, frustrated with yourself. Stop overthinking. Paul was just trying to prevent a stampede of fans, that’s all.

Sleep finds you in waves that night, each moment filled with fragments of the encounter. Two members of One Direction watched you perform. That has to count for something, right?

...

The next morning, you grab your gear—your guitar case slung over your shoulder and your microphone stand tucked under your arm—and step out the door of your tiny studio apartment. The air is still cool, but there's a promise of warmth in the day ahead. It's the kind of crisp morning that makes you feel like anything is possible, even if you know deep down that today will be just like every other day. Another long day of busking. Another chance to keep doing what you love, even if it feels like you're stuck in the same loop.

As you walk up the street, your mind is a little foggy with the memories of last night, still replaying that brief but surreal encounter with Liam and Louis. But you push it aside. There's work to do. You need to focus. You reach the familiar stretch of pavement where you set up shop the day before. It’s the spot you’ve come to know well—the place where the crowd gathered, where the tips were generous, and where you felt a little closer to the dream you’re chasing.

The street is starting to fill with people, a mix of commuters and tourists, their footsteps echoing in the early morning light. You scan the area, watching the usual crowd drift by, and make the decision to set up in the same spot. It’s a good one—a spot where the energy is right, where the people seem to stop and listen, even if just for a moment. You find yourself hoping that maybe today, someone else might notice you too.

You lay your case down on the ground and start arranging your equipment, the sound of the street blending with the soft click of your guitar’s strings. You take a deep breath and glance up, your fingers moving automatically as you tune your guitar, preparing yourself for another long stretch of singing your heart out in front of strangers.

It’s a ritual now, this feeling of setting up—each day starts to feel the same, but there’s always a spark of something new when you get out there. Today might be the day someone stops and really hears you. Today might be the day everything changes.

...

The next morning, the band gathers in the meeting room to discuss preparations for the ‘Where We Are’ tour. The air is thick with tension, the weight of the situation pressing down on everyone. Liam runs a hand through his hair, already feeling the fatigue of the planning.

“As you boys may already be aware, 5SOS will no longer be opening for your tour,” Paul states, his voice firm as he stands at the front, all business. “This leaves us with two options. We can send a message to all those who have tickets with an apology and issue a partial refund. Or, we have twenty-four hours to find another opening act. I believe the first option makes the most sense, but I wanted your opinions first.”

Harry leans back in his chair, sighing heavily, clearly over the whole situation. “I agree,” he says, rubbing his temples.

“Me too,” Zayn adds, his voice calm as always, but the hint of frustration is there, just beneath the surface.

“It sucks, but it makes the most sense,” Niall chimes in, sounding resigned. The disappointment is evident in his tone, but he knows what has to be done.

The room falls quiet for a moment. Louis looks over at Liam, his eyes serious. He’s usually quick to speak, but today, there’s something different in his demeanor as he turns to Liam. “What do you think?” Louis asks, the question lingering in the air.

Liam hesitates, the weight of the decision settling in. There’s no easy answer, but his mind drifts back to the day before—the girl they had seen busking in the street. Her voice had been impossible to forget. It had stopped him in his tracks, a raw, emotional quality that left him thinking about her long after they walked away. He can’t shake the feeling that she might be exactly what they need.

“There’s got to be someone who could join us, right?” Liam begins, his voice thoughtful but hopeful. He can’t ignore the nagging idea that keeps circling in his head. “Maybe… that girl we saw busking yesterday?” He pauses, watching as the others take in the suggestion. “Her voice was incredible, and she was covering one of our songs. If we can find her again, would you consider it?” He looks directly at Paul, his gaze steady, hoping for an open-minded response.

Paul’s expression is unreadable for a moment, and the silence stretches as he weighs the idea. “You’ve got until the end of the day, Liam,” Paul finally says, his voice firm and decisive. “And I’m sending a security team with you to find her. If you don’t find her by the end of the day, One Direction goes without an opening act on this tour.”

Liam nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. The clock is ticking, and the weight of responsibility rests on his shoulders. If he doesn’t find this girl, the tour could be affected. The pressure is undeniable, but his gut tells him she’s worth the risk. She’s something special, and he’s willing to trust his instincts on this one.

Next Chapter

[princesskenny1998]

South Park | Kenny McCormick x f!recovered!insecure!reader ~ TWLOHA

TW: Mentions of self harm, scars

The night hung heavy, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you as you sat alone in your room. The familiar darkness around you felt like an old companion, wrapping itself around your insecurities and the secrets you hadn’t yet shared with anyone—especially not with Kenny.

He had always been so kind, so easygoing, and it was almost impossible to believe that someone like him would ever be interested in someone like you. Yet, he was. You were Kenny McCormick’s girlfriend, and somehow, that fact still didn’t seem real. Even now, with his arms so often around you, his playful jokes, and the way he looked at you with such warmth, you couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe would drop.

Because you were hiding something from him—something you were terrified would make him see you differently. You hadn’t shown him your scars.

The scars on your arms, the ones that crept up from your wrists and onto your forearms, a map of the times you had tried to make sense of your pain. The scars on your legs, hidden beneath jeans or long skirts, where the marks still whispered of nights when the weight of the world had felt unbearable.

In those moments, you had tried to regain control, even if it meant hurting yourself. The shame of those moments had built up over time, and now, even though your scars had long healed, the emotional wounds were still raw. You hadn’t told Kenny because you were scared—scared that he would look at you differently, that his kindness would turn into pity or disgust.

That’s why you always kept your sleeves long, your pants covering the skin of your legs. It was easier to hide. Easier to pretend that everything was okay, even when the darkness inside you still clawed at your thoughts.

Tonight, though, that darkness felt closer than ever.

Kenny had texted you earlier, asking if you wanted to hang out, but you had made an excuse. You told him you were tired, even though you knew you wouldn’t sleep. It was easier than explaining the truth—that you couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing you like this, with your mind spiraling and your insecurities clawing at your chest.

You sat on the floor, your back against your bed, staring at your arms in the dim light of your room. The streetlights outside shone through the window, casting long shadows across the walls. The scars were faint, but they were still there, reminders of the nights you’d spent feeling so lost and alone. The lyrics of a song you’d been listening to on repeat for days echoed in your mind—“Well, she won’t leave this night alone, and she won’t sleep at all. And all the sorrow that she takes out on herself…”

The lyrics resonated with you in a way that was both comforting and painful. You knew all too well what it felt like to take your sorrow out on yourself, to feel like you were carrying the weight of the world and not knowing where to put it down. You closed your eyes, the melody filling the room, and wrapped your arms around your knees, trying to push the thoughts away.

But they wouldn’t go. Not tonight.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock at your door. You froze, your heart pounding. You hadn’t expected anyone—especially not Kenny.

“Hey, it’s me,” Kenny’s voice came from the other side, muffled but warm. “You didn’t answer my last text. I just wanted to check on you.”

You hesitated, staring at the door, unsure of what to do. You hadn’t prepared for this. You weren’t ready to see him, not like this. But before you could respond, the door creaked open just a little, and Kenny poked his head in, his messy blonde hair falling into his eyes.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You swallowed, unsure of what to say, but nodded anyway. Kenny stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. He took one look at you, sitting there on the floor, and his expression softened with concern.

“You okay?” he asked, crouching down in front of you.

You wanted to lie, to tell him you were fine, that it was just one of those days, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

“I just… I wasn’t expecting you,” you mumbled, pulling your sleeves down a little more, trying to hide your arms.

“I know,” Kenny said softly. “I just… I had a feeling. You didn’t seem like yourself earlier.”

You nodded, still avoiding his eyes. You felt exposed, like he could see right through you, even though you hadn’t said a word about what was really going on.

There was a long pause, and then, slowly, Kenny reached out and gently took your hands in his. His touch was warm, comforting, and for a moment, you let yourself focus on that instead of the storm of thoughts in your mind.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he said quietly. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words, so simple yet so sincere, made something inside you crack. The fear, the shame—it all came rushing to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, you started to cry.

“Kenny…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

He squeezed your hands gently, his gaze steady on yours. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. This was it. This was the moment you had been dreading. You pulled your hands away from his and slowly rolled up the sleeves of your sweater, revealing the scars on your forearms. The tears kept falling as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

“These… they’re from… from before. From when things were really bad. I—I never wanted you to see them, because I was scared. I’m still scared. I thought if you knew, you’d think I was… I don’t know, broken or something.”

For a long moment, Kenny didn’t say anything. His eyes were locked on the scars, and his face was a mix of emotions—sadness, understanding, and something else you couldn’t quite place. You braced yourself for the worst, for him to pull away or to look at you with pity, but instead, he did something you never expected.

Kenny leaned in slowly, and with the utmost care, he pressed a gentle kiss to one of your scars. Then another. And another.

Each kiss felt like a balm to your wounded heart, like he was trying to erase the pain that had marked your skin, trying to show you that you weren’t broken, that you were loved. Tears streamed down your face, but they weren’t just tears of sorrow anymore. There was something healing in the way Kenny touched you, something that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

When he finally looked up at you, his eyes were filled with so much tenderness that it made your chest ache.

“I hate that you went through this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I hate that you felt like you had to hurt yourself. But these scars… they don’t make me love you any less. They don’t change anything.”

You choked back a sob, feeling overwhelmed by his words, by the depth of his understanding. “But… how can you still want to be with me after seeing this? I’m a mess, Kenny.”

Kenny shook his head, his hands finding yours again, holding them tightly. “Everyone’s got their stuff, okay? Everyone’s been through shit. But that doesn’t make you any less amazing. It doesn’t make you less worthy of love. You’re not a mess. You’re just… human. And I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

His words echoed in your mind, overlapping with the song that still played softly in the background—“And the stars are always there, but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. Remember hope. Hold onto hope. We have hope.”

Kenny leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, and his presence, so steady and sure, made the storm inside you quiet for the first time in what felt like forever.

“We’ll get through this,” he said softly. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

You nodded, your tears finally slowing, and for the first time in a long time, you believed him. You weren’t alone. Kenny was here, and he saw you—all of you, even the parts you were ashamed of. And he still chose to stay.

The darkness in your mind wasn’t gone, and you knew there would still be hard days ahead. But for now, in this moment, you felt the warmth of Kenny’s love like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge. His kisses on your scars were reminders that you were more than your pain, more than your past.

You were loved.

And that was enough to keep you holding on to hope.

Important Note:

To everyone who still struggles; it will get better, it will be manageable, you're not broken; you're just human. It took me over 15 years to not rely on that but I am clean now, and I know, you can be too. I believe in you. You are loved.

[ju-berry]

FANFICTION Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

The day at Abbott Elementary had been intense, as usual. Melissa Schemmenti, always bold and confident, handled everything impeccably, as she always did. But there was something different about this afternoon. It was you.

You, the new art teacher, who for the past few weeks had been on Melissa’s mind in ways she couldn’t control. She was always good at keeping up appearances, but something about you made her want to let her guard down. And today, seeing you in the teachers’ lounge, your soft smile, a melody floated from your lips—a Brazilian song called Amado by Vanessa da Mata.

Melissa tried to act casual, pretending not to notice how much attention she was giving you, but your voice captivated her. The song seemed to speak directly to her, to the things she hadn’t yet admitted.

“Ah, como eu quero você…” (Oh, how I want you…)

The lyrics echoed in Melissa’s mind as she busied herself at her desk, glancing at you occasionally. It was impossible to ignore the impact you had on her. And when you accidentally dropped a few paintbrushes on the floor, Melissa was quick to help, your eyes meeting in a brief moment that felt like it stretched forever.

“Sorry, I’m a little distracted today,” you laughed, your light smile making Melissa’s heart race.

“It’s fine,” Melissa replied, trying to sound casual, though she was just as distracted as you. “What were you singing earlier?”

“Oh, it was Amado, a Brazilian song. I always listen to it when I’m feeling thoughtful… or, you know, when someone’s on my mind.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out if there was more to that statement. “And is someone on your mind now?”

You smiled, your eyes sparkling with a mix of shyness and boldness. “Maybe.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, taking in your answer. There was something in the air, a light tension, almost pleasant, like the lyrics of the song still hung between you. Melissa was about to say something when you caught her off guard.

“Have you heard that song before?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “It’s about longing for someone, about wanting to be with them even if you’re unsure how things will turn out.”

Melissa looked straight into your eyes, feeling the familiarity of the lyrics blend with what she was feeling. “I haven’t, but I think I’m starting to understand it.”

The teachers’ lounge, so chaotic minutes earlier, seemed to have quieted down, becoming more intimate. The other teachers had already left, leaving just the two of you, immersed in conversation and the comfortable silence that followed.

Without thinking too much, Melissa stepped a little closer, her expression softening, something rare for the tough teacher everyone knew. “What if I wanted to know more about that song? And about you?”

You held Melissa’s gaze for a long moment before giving a soft laugh, warm and inviting. “I think I can teach you, Melissa. But it’ll have to be step by step.”

Melissa smiled, her heart beating fast in her chest, and for the first time, she allowed herself to let her guard down just a little. “I think I can be a good student.”

The way you looked at her, with silent affection, made it clear that there was more to be said, more to be felt. And as Vanessa da Mata’s song continued to play in her head, Melissa knew she was ready to discover what came next. Maybe it was love, maybe it was the beginning of something new. But in that moment, all that mattered was the silent connection between you two.

“Ah, como eu quero você

Ah, como eu quero você…” (Oh, how I want you…

[fluentmoviequoter]

Teeth

Pairing: Vicious fic w/ EO!fem!reader (nonspecific to preserve the feel/suspense!)

Summary: The war between Victor Vale and Eli Ever is just beginning, and you find your place in it.

Warnings: spoilers for Vicious, graphic depiction of open heart surgery, violence (not exactly torture but it's on the bloodier side of things), angst, fluff at the very end

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

A/N: I got this idea while listening Teeth by 5SOS. I used the lyrics and highly recommend the song because it's great.

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Victor Vale Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Steady,” you demand. “It has to be all the way to the heart. Without direct access, this will never work.”

A moment later, you can see into his chest cavity, his heart beating within reach. As you place your hand around it, his life becomes yours.

Eli Ever gasps as he wakes. He sits up, breathless, before he realizes it was just a dream. You would never do that to him, he knows. Eli looks over his shoulder, and you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. Beside him, peaceful. You stir as he turns to face you, smiling in your sleep as he brushes his fingers over your cheekbone.

“Some days you’re the only thing I know,” he whispers. “Only thing that’s burning when the nights grow cold.”

“Nightmare?” you ask without opening your eyes.

Eli hums, and you place your hand on his and encourage, “You’ll heal from it. Just like you heal from everything else.”

“Yeah,” Eli agrees under his breath.

As he lies down, he can’t look away from you. Something inside of him pushes him to beg you to stay, make you promise to be there when he wakes up in the morning, but as you move closer to him, he knows he doesn’t have to beg. You’ll be there.

“Eli!” you yell from the other room. “Focus.”

Eli follows your voice, then pauses in the doorway of your shared bedroom to watch you. On the bed, you’re leaning forward with your head in your hands, whispering something to yourself.

“You okay?” Eli inquires.

You chuckle and answer, “I’d be better if I could get a moment away from you.” You close your eyes and sigh before you stand and turn toward Eli. “I’m sorry.”

Eli shrugs, and pressure builds in his chest when you reach out for him. “It’s fine,” he assures.

“No, I… I guess I’m just feeling lost. That’s no reason to push you away. Stay with me?” You smile as you brush your fingers through his hair. “Please stay with me, Eli,” you whisper.

Eli can’t speak, the pressure around his heart turning into a gripping pain. He nods and pulls you close. Immediately, the pain disappears, and he’s left with nothing but you.

You can feel Eli looking around as if he thinks something is missing. Moments like these are becoming more frequent, and you’re unsure how to deal with them. One wrong step, and you know he could leave you forever. Or worse.

“Stay with me,” you murmur against his shirt, speaking directly to his heart. “I’ll beg you to stay, Eli.”

“Sometimes you’re a stranger in my bed!” Eli accuses. “I don’t know if you love me or you want me dead.”

You clench your jaw and pull your arms tightly across your chest. There’s a hatred for Eli inside you, and you’re powerless to hide it.

“Something in the way you’re looking through my eyes…” Eli adds. “I don’t know if I’m gonna make it out alive.”

“What do you want to hear, Eli?” you ask. “If I tell you I love you, you’ll think I’m lying, but if I agree and say I hate you and want you to leave, you’ll say I’m baiting you! I can’t keep playing this game.”

“You’re the best thing in my life, I look at you and I see my wife. Then you turn into somebody I don’t know.”

You step toward Eli, daring him to come closer and say, “Take what you want, Eli. You and I both know you’re too scared to ask for it and this relationship was doomed from the beginning. So, take what you need and run. I won’t be surprised if I wake up alone.”

Eli’s arms drop as his gaze hardens. For a moment, you think this is the end. Then, he mumbles, “I just need some air. I’ll… I’ll be back tomorrow.”

As the door closes behind him, you sigh. There’s a photo from Lockland on the table beside you, and your smile between Eli and Victor’s masks makes you reconsider everything. But tonight, you have something important to do. Then you can call Eli and apologize. If he answers.

Your leg bounces as the phone rings. Your relationship with Eli isn’t new, but there’s still so much you don’t know about him. Like if he’ll accept your apologies or the lies you insulate them with.

“Hey,” Eli answers.

“Hi,” you greet, pulling your knees toward your chest. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have said those things to you- to anyone, because they aren’t true.”

“No?”

“Of course not. I love you, Eli. I love you more than anything else in the world. But if you decided that there’s something else, someone else, out there that would be better for you-“ you pause and take a shaky breath – “then I love you enough to let you go.”

Eli is silent for several seconds after you finish. He muses, “You said you’d call me in the morning to apologize and every little lie gives me butterflies. Better is with you, you’re the only thing saving me from myself.”

“You’re coming home?” you ask, avoiding looking at the picture of Victor beside you.

“Yes. In a while. There’s something I need to do first.”

“Oh, okay. Be careful, Eli. I love you.”

The line beeps as Eli hangs up, and you look down at your empty hands, pristine despite the feeling of blood running between your fingers.

Eli knocks on the heavy wooden door, then steps back to wait. He knows the woman who lives here, yet he’s never been inside. Something about her makes it hard to argue and easy to tell everything. Maybe that’s why she’s such a good listener and gives worthy advice.

“Eli Cardale,” a woman says as the door opens. “Or is it still Ever?”

“Serena,” Eli greets. “You look good.”

“I know. Here for personal reasons or is this another Midnight Incorporated thing?”

“No, no, business is great,” Eli assures. “It’s personal.”

Serena smiles as she opens the door wider. “By all means, come in, then.”

Sitting in her home library, Serena offers Eli a cup of tea before she sits back to listen to his worries, stories, and everything else he never planned to share but seems to let slip. The first time he came by, he accused her of lacing the tea with something to inhibit his control. She laughed and brushed him off, and as he shares the details of his relationship with you, he doesn’t even remember that encounter.

“It’s like she… she’s the kind of person who can fight so dirty but her love’s so sweet, talk so pretty but her heart’s got teeth,” Eli explains.

“And last night?” Serena presses. “What did you think during your argument?”

“That she was a late-night devil,” Eli answers. “But even when she’s like that, pushing me, hating me, the only thing I ever want to do is beg her to put her hands on me.”

“It’s sounds like you think she has some kind of power over you. Here I was thinking Eli Ever couldn’t get hooked by a pretty girl.”

Eli scoffs as he raises his cup. “You’d know, huh?”

“We had good times together, you and I,” Serena defends. “But this is about you, here and now. What are you going to do about the girl you see a future with but can’t survive twenty-four hours with?”

“I need her,” Eli admits. “But there’s these moments, a sense of clarity, where it seems like everything is fake, something she’s manipulated me into believing to keep me in this- this vicious love.”

Serena sets her mug aside, leans forward, smiles, and encourages, “Then make your own reality. If you want the clarity, grasp it and pull until her love shatters around you.” She leans back and shrugs. “But if you want the future, figure out how to make it yours.”

Eli nods as he stands, not because he feels ready to leave but because something urges him to. He knows what he wants, and while Eli has the clarity to see that you’ve been manipulating him, hooking him into a false love that makes it impossible for him not to return, he pulls. And everything shatters around him.

When Eli blinks his eyes open, you are standing above him. He tries to smile, but then he sees the look on your face. The look Victor gave him after Eli killed himself. Like he’s a monster.

“Welcome back,” someone says on the other side of the room.

You step back, and Eli tilts his chin to watch you. His eyes widen when he sees you and everything else in the room.

“Back to what?” Eli asks, his throat dry and scratchy.

“Reality.”

There’s blood on your shirt, a rose in Victor’s hand. You’re looking at him like you don’t know who he is. When Eli left your manipulative reality, he wasn’t expecting to come to this.

Blood on your shirt, a heart in your hand, Eli thinks. My heart.

“What did you do?” Eli demands.

“Nothing you didn’t deserve,” you answer carefully. “Tell Victor thank you for the get well present.”

“Oh, no,” Victor interjects. “Thank her. She’s the one who decided you should have something beautiful.” He twists the stem, raising the flower toward the light. “A desert rose. Poisonous, perfect, and deadly.”

“You said you loved me,” Eli says, his eyes on you.

“I said a lot of things,” you reply, putting pressure on Eli’s heart. “The only time I meant what I said was when you thought I was lying. I’ve never loved you, and no one ever will.”

You shift and lower Eli’s heart back into place. Blood covers your shirt, runs down your arms, and drips from your fingers as Victor lays the poisonous rose across his exposed ribs. He removes the clamps holding Eli’s incisions open, and the skin begins knitting itself closed over his heart.

“Try healing around that, Cardale,” Victor says.

“What was it you told sweet Serena?” you ask, faux sympathy on your face. “That my heart has teeth? Well, there’s one thing you didn’t learn. Those teeth bite. And now that your heart has poison in it and thorns wrapped around it, we’ll see who’s really the monster.”

“Victor,” Eli grits out. “When I get out of here-“

“I’m shaking in fear,” Victor deadpans, “but I’m going to stop you right there. You’re not going anywhere. Welcome to purgatory, Cardale. Enjoy dying, over and over and over.”

As you follow Victor out of the sterile room, you grimace at having any trace of Eli on your skin.

The last thing Eli hears you ask is, “Vic, do you think insanity is spread through bodily fluids like hepatitis?”

On the other side of the door, Victor thanks you for your help, then tells you to leave.

“Yeah,” you agree sarcastically. “One thing you should learn from that is I don’t give up. And you’re stuck with me until Eli meets his true fate. I just determined his fate for three days; I’m not walking away yet.”

“You heard her,” Sydney calls from the end of the hall. “And from Eli’s girly screams, I’d suggest not picking a fight for her.”

Victor sighs but waves for you to follow them. Holding Eli’s beating heart in your hands was a good start, but this fight is just beginning. Luckily, your heart, teeth and all, is still beating.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

I’m sorry, but I desperately need to know how the not allowed!reader reacts to Seven!!

Especially the explicit version…

let's be honest, it's about her, isn't it?

drabble: ‘not allowed’ series (myg+jjk), idol!BTS, based on real time pairing(s): jungkook x reader, mentions of yoongi x reader (fluff)

--

"I always think of you whenever I hear music."

"So, all the time?"

The way he grinned with the shine of seven million stars.

Dork.

“The actress did a very good job.” Jeon Jungkook was still giving you that look. The not-the-compliment-I-was-going-for look. Or maybe the give-me-more look. He gave the latter a lot. For various… reasons. “I thought it was very fun and a good showcase of your personality.” Nope. Also, an exploring hand was working around your thigh, creeping up your hip. “Your voice executed perfectly, as usual, you genius. I could listen to it seven days a week, for sure.”

You smiled back, but Jungkook knew you were being a shit.

“Noona…”

If possible, it was somewhere between a whine and growl. Only him.

He frowned. “Did you not fully understand the lyrics?”

You tried not to snort. As if being Min Yoongi’s girlfriend meant you wouldn’t know the multiple uses of fuck. Possible that you were even more well-conversed than Min SUGA – although he, world-class rap star, rockstar, had you beat in screaming curses in arenas. Hm. You pretended not to notice the hand snaking around your waist, keeping your gaze at those round brown eyes everyone knew so well. Ah, fuck it.

“I thought you would be more naked,” you mused with a hint of disappoint.

Gasp, jaw drop, as if he was shocked after literally releasing a song about fucking seven days a week.

“Noona! The music video has to be broadcast safe!”

“Hm, but you’re really going to release a song about me and not be accurate to how you always are around me?” You gripped the hand at your waist and leaned closer to him, peering piercingly at Jungkook’s flushed cheeks. “Ah, I’m wrong, huh? It’s not about me?”

“W-Well, no one is supposed to know… I just… steered the lyricists a bit…”

“Yoongi warned you that you shouldn’t,” you whispered, breath against his chin, smiling as he shivered at your closeness. “One might even say, not allowed. You’re a bad boy.”

His hand in your grip was trying to tug away and slip under your shirt. The mood lighting caught the new lip piercing, flashing a spot of red on the edge of trembling lips.

“Not yet I’m not.”

“Don’t say stuff like that with those big peepers of yours. It’s insincere,” you playfully chastised.

He turned his head and now the distance between you and him was only wisps of breath. About to give his reply but you cut him off, flicking your tongue against the bottom of his lower lip, teasing that little mole hiding under there.

“You’re not even available seven days a week to fuck me right. Hah, it breaks my heart.” You voiced your woes lightheartedly, closing your eyes, smiling against his smile, not yet kissing him but tiptoeing on that thin line.

His voice deeper, with longing. “You know I want to.” Again, somewhere between a whine and growl. Trying to be tough but too tender to do so. “You have to do that pesky thing called having a job too.”

“Oh, yeah, I should use all my vacation and sick days to fuck you, right?”

The smooth metal of the ring and stud touched your lip.

“That would be a good start.”

And then Jungkook grabbed your head and pulled you into his intense kiss, silencing your laugh to fuck you right, all night.

-

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv

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drabbles masterpost | masterpost

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

i’m beginning to feel like a rap god…

pair: Draco Malfoy x reader requested by anonymous

heyo, i have an idea. draco with a girlfriend who loves Eminem. like she introduces it to him and he says he hates it but listens to rap god behind closed doors 😂

masterlist | navigation

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You had always known Draco Malfoy to be a man of mystery, elegance, and high standards. The Slytherin prince had a reputation for his pristine tastes, always donning the latest robes and drinking the finest Butterbeer. Since you started dating him, you’d spent countless evenings sitting by the fire in the Slytherin common room, talking about everything under the stars. From his love for potions to his disdain for Muggle studies, there was one thing he’d never quite warmed up to: your music taste.

Specifically, your love for Eminem.

You had tried, multiple times, to introduce Draco to the rapid-fire lyrics and hypnotic beats of your favorite Muggle artist. Each time, Draco had scoffed, rolling his eyes as he heard the first few lines.

“Honestly, darling,” he said one day, his voice dripping with mock disdain, “how can you possibly enjoy this… noise? It’s all just loud shouting, isn’t it?”

You’d pouted, pressing play on your Muggle music device and letting Eminem’s voice fill the room. “It’s not just noise! You just haven’t given it a fair chance, Draco.”

He smirked, tugging you closer. “I’ve given it more than a fair chance, love. I just have more refined tastes.”

You’d dropped the subject, not wanting to argue. But you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Eminem’s music was more than just a collection of songs to you—it was a way to express yourself, to feel understood, to feel powerful. And you just wanted to share that with Draco.

Weeks passed, and you noticed something odd. Every so often, when you came back to the common room after a late class, you’d find Draco sitting by the fire, a bit more flustered than usual. He’d look up at you with wide eyes, hiding something behind his back, and you’d dismiss it as just one of his quirks.

But then you started noticing the subtle changes.

One night, as you were cuddling on the couch, Draco’s fingers began to tap rhythmically against your arm. You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that about?”

Draco quickly stopped, his cheeks turning a faint pink. “Nothing. Just… thinking.”

Another time, you found him muttering under his breath, words that sounded suspiciously like, “I’m beginning to feel like a Rap God…”

You’d blinked in surprise, but he’d brushed it off, pretending he hadn’t said anything at all.

Finally, your suspicions reached a peak one evening when you returned to the common room earlier than expected. As you approached, you could hear the faint, unmistakable sound of Eminem’s Rap God blaring from inside. Pushing the door open quietly, you found Draco with his back to you, nodding his head to the beat, his fingers moving in time with the lyrics.

He didn’t notice you at first, too absorbed in the music, his usually well-composed features softening with concentration and… enjoyment?

“Draco Malfoy,” you said, unable to keep the grin from your face, “are you listening to Eminem?”

Draco jumped, nearly dropping the music device. He spun around, his face a deep shade of red. “I—uh, this is… This isn’t mine!”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Really? Because that looks exactly like my music player.”

He stared at you, the embarrassment written all over his face. Then, with a defeated sigh, he slumped onto the couch. “Alright, fine. I like it. Happy now?”

You couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. “You like Eminem?”

Draco looked away, still blushing. “It’s… catchy, okay? And the lyrics are… interesting. I just didn’t want you to know. I thought it was silly.”

Your heart swelled, and you moved to sit beside him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Draco, there’s nothing silly about liking something. I’m just glad you gave it a chance. It means a lot to me.”

He leaned into you, sighing softly. “I just didn’t want you to think less of me. I mean, a Malfoy, listening to Muggle rap? It’s unheard of.”

You laughed, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “I think it makes you even more amazing. Besides, everyone needs to feel like a Rap God now and then.”

Draco chuckled, pulling you closer. “Maybe you’re right. But if you tell anyone…”

“Your secret is safe with me, Draco,” you promised, grinning. “After all, I think it’s kind of cute. My own personal Rap God.”

He groaned playfully, but the smile on his face betrayed his true feelings. “Alright, alright. Now, play it again. I want to see if I can get the next verse right.”