#good combination with thoughtful meanings and sounds almost melodic

[awyeahitssam]

“Loki, over here,” he called out, and the room hushed. Morgan wiggled deeper into the crook of his elbow, cooing. 

The Aesir watched Loki approach with wide eyes. Tony ignored their reactions, as usual, and smiled at the other man. 

“Stark,” Loki returned stiffly, eyes locked on Tony's, not acknowledging the baby in his arms. “I thank you for your hospitality. Congratulations are in order.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony stepped closer and nudged Loki with his shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Lokes. It’s been a minute.”

There was a moment when Loki remained stiff, and then he pushed back into Tony’s shoulder and offered him a smirk. “You can’t have had time to miss me in between missing sleep.”

“Oh, I can and I have,” Tony teased back. “Who am I meant to match wits with while you’re away? Lovely as Morgan is, she hasn’t got speech down just yet, and I can only hold both halves of the conversation for so long before running out of oxygen.”

Loki followed his gaze down to Morgan, eyes going wide at his first glance. She was swaddled in the green and gold blanket Loki had left for Tony to find after news of the birth. It filled him with warmth. Introducing a babe to the world was an important event, and this is what Stark chose to wrap her into. A combination of their colors. 

Said mortal caught his eye as he glanced up and smiled. “Would you like to hold her?”

Loki's heart stuttered in his chest. “Truly?”

“It’s safe to say that’s a skill you’ve picked up at some point, yeah?” Tony checked. “I mean, I can show you how if you want.” 

“I assure you I have had many occasions to hold an infant,” Loki said. “Did you wish for a Blessing?”

“A… what?” 

“A protection for your daughter. It is common for me to bless new Aesir on their naming day. Is that not why you wish for me to hold her?”

Tony blinked. “No. I just thought that you might like to? I’m not trying to scam you into… blessing her? And would it even be a genuine blessing if it’s an expectation or request?”

Loki looked up from Morgan to meet his gaze. “I am very powerful,” he murmured. “My blessings are always effective. Genuinity doesn’t enter the equation.”

“Now the question is, did you actually just use that colloquialism, or did All Speak translate one of yours into one of mine?”

Loki rolled his eyes, as if Tony could not see the spark of mirth in them. “It seemed fitting, given my audience.”

“Aww, you’re talking math for me,” Tony teased, smile quick and warm. “If you want to give my kid a blessing I’m hardly gonna stop you, Lokes. But it’s conditional. You bless her, you’ve got to put up with me hugging you.”

Tony watched Loki’s posture ease with interest. The moment the word ‘conditional,’ had left his lips, Loki’s face had done an interesting spasm that meant he was either about to eviscerate him, or Tony had actually managed to hurt his feelings. He’d have to rethink his phrasing in the future, even if he had just been teasing.

“Oh, very well. Hand her over.”

Despite the put upon tone, Loki was careful as he accepted the baby from Tony. Morgan settled quickly in his secure hold, which was a pleasant change. She’d been whining most of the morning whenever Tony handed her off, though admittedly this was only the third time he’d done so. Something about Pepper—presumably the introduction of her floral perfume—had set Morgan off, and Rhodey had been too gentle in his caution. 

She’d more or less been a perfect angel in his arms, though, which left Pepper muttering to their daughter about not inflating his ego. 

Loki began to chant, the sound almost melodic. The eye of every Aesir was on them now, and the others at the party seemed to have caught on. It left them with plenty of gawkers, but relative silence. It was as if Loki’s words were sucking all other noise from the room, soft and old and gorgeous. 

No matter how fascinating Tony found the way All Speak could find no translation for the tongues Loki spoke in, he was more caught up on the way Morgan’s pudgy hand curled into Loki’s shirt, wrinkling the material. The slight imperfection in such a perfect scene made him smile. His daughter would be a force of chaos, and was being blessed by its god. It makes something in him bubble up effervescently, and this was not a moment for laughter but he is tempted by it regardless. 

When Loki fell silent it was with his lips mere millimeters above Morgan’s brow, and then he pressed a kiss to her head. The familiar green spark that Tony associated with Loki’s sedir blossomed at the contact, and the glow of it spread over Morgan in a gentle, pulsating wave. 

“She will be healthy, in body as well as mind.” Loki said, voice just as enrapturing now that he was speaking English again. It's a tone that threatened to catch all of Tony’s attention and pull it away from his daughter. 

He pulled both of them close to him, instead. He had already warned Loki, and the mage hardly seems against being drawn into his arms. He let out an amused huffing noise and tilted his head to rest gently aside Tony’s own. Tony very carefully didn't crush Morgan, who's hold on Loki had not loosened a bit, though she did make a soft noise at the feel and smell of her father so close. 

“Keeping a good hold of him, hm? Good luck, sweetheart.” His chin rose, face alight in a smile, dangerously close to Loki’s green eyes. “Thanks.”

The whispering increased. Loki, aware of their audience, murmured, “Our people shall talk.” 

Tony’s laughter was warm, his response carefree, “Undoubtedly. Should we give them more to say?”

Loki's eyes glittered with mischief and amusement. He smirked. "I've just kissed one Stark. What's another?"

[a-nameless-writer]

it's now time for...

music recs from beyond the grave!

a series in which i yap about my latest discoveries

Lunatic Soul

Solo studio music project of Mariusz Duda, lead singer of the Polish progressive rock band Riverside, Lunatic Soul's dark musical atmosphere evokes this intense feeling one can experience at twilight. There's something quite mystical about it, as if the winds and the mountains were whispering in your ear.

From the album Walking on a Flashlight Beam (2014):

Eastern High

This Swedish metal band's progressive approach can sometimes be reminiscent of Aether Realm's sound, although I feel it has a more mystique spirit — if that's even possible. Let's just say, as a Ghost fan: there's something in Swedish music that makes it impossible for them to make anything but bangers (I don't think this can be proven wrong).

Today's recs are from their first album, Garden of Heathens (2017). The first one, Afterglow, is the last song in the album (yeah, I like doing things the wrong way round). It is quite atmospheric, with almost ethereal vocals and clear acoustic guitar sounds.

The next one, Bottled Insanity (the first in the album, ha!), goes harder: with heavy guitar riffs and deep growls in the middle, it is quite reminiscent of melodic death metal. There is a notable contrast between soft and heavy passages, which I appreciate a lot. I find that the guitar solo is bleeding through very nicely. Side note: the chorus feels very solemn — which is a plus in my book, considering the vibe of this song.

Cellar Darling

A Swiss heavy progressive folk rock band! This trio was previously part of Swiss folk metal band Eluveite, and decided to embark on a different path — one free of any creative limits.

In their first studio album This Is the Sound (2017), vocalist Anna Murphy's powerful voice, combined with the rich sound of her hurdy-gurdy and heavy riffs, manages to throw you into a mystical experience. You'd almost expect Morgan le Fay to come out of the nearest bush, belting this song.

They also covered Queen's The Prophet Song (in 2018). Here, again, Anna Murphy's vocals are pure delight to the ears.

Zaho de Sagazan

This French singer-songwriter made a splash by covering Bowie's Modern Love for the opening of the Cannes Film Festival 2024, as a nod to Greta Gerwig's nomination as the jury's president. During this performance, she threw herself into the music — as she always does on stage — and invited us all into her world of electronic music.

She declared falling in love with the German language later, although she did study it in high school. From this, she decided to cover the famous song 99 Luftballons, by West German band Nena.

Zaho de Sagazan is hypersensitive, something that brought her a lot of trouble as a kid. But, “One day [she] discovered music, and [she] realized that by crying over [her] piano did [her] a lot of good, it didn't hurt anyone and above all it gave pretty songs. [She] realized that what [she] thought was [her] greatest flaw in life was ultimately [her] greatest quality”. From this discovery, the song La symphonie des éclairs (literally “The symphony of lightning”) was born.

Aaaand I've hit the hellsite's limit for Spotify integrations... Which means, without any surprise, that I'll continue these recommendations in another post (depending on this one's reception). I hope you enjoyed listening to all of these, as much as I've enjoyed writing about them!

Have a nice day, and don't forget to feel the music!

[gamblingcaffeineaddict]

you came to me with carnations and snowdrops

mizuena angst, memory loss, character death

a/n: short idea I came up with a few months ago, enjoy :)

Ena dreams of a familiar stranger with pink hair and a blue jumper every night. Why does the sight of them make her feel so sad?

~~~

Ena has been having strange dreams lately.

She dreams of a mysterious yet familiar person with pink hair and a red bow. However, before Ena could see the person's face, she woke up.

Ena groans in frustration. Just who is this mysterious person??? And why do they keep appearing in her dreams every night without fail??? It's pissing her off.

She looks at the clock. Akito is almost done with school, so that means it's time for her to get ready for her nighttime classes. She instantly becomes even more pissed and gets up from her bed.

~~~

It's currently 1 am, so Ena gets online on nightcord.

"Enanan, could you edit the new mv this time?" Kanade asks.

"Oh, sure!" Ena replies. They've been rotating turns to edit mvs since they haven't been able to find a permanent editor. The last one they had lost interest and never came back.

Ugh, why did they have to leave? Their videos were really good...

While looking for some inspiration for the video, Ena tries to find the video that the former editor did. They were really skilled, so maybe Ena could learn a few tips...

As she watched and inspected the videos closely, she noticed the upload date. Seven months ago... how strange. Ena clearly remembers that niigo has been editing videos by themselves since the editor left... but they've only been editing themselves for 3 months.

At least, Ena thinks she clearly remembers it.

~~~

"Here's the final piece!" Ena presents a finished piece of artwork to the rest of niigo.

"It's very nice." Kanade applauds.

"It's okay." Mafuyu responds in her typical blunt manner.

"It's okay?JUST okay?!! I spent hours on this, so the least you could do is put a little more sincerity in your response!!!" Ena flares up suddenly.

"Well, maybe you could add a little more colors. Like light blue and pink.”

Something pops up in Ena’s head. The color combination... is awfully familiar. But why is that?

Was it that strange person in her dreams? come to think of it, she thinks they were wearing a blue skirt..

"...Ena?" Kanade calls out.

"Sorry, i'll think about it," Ena says. "I'm going to sleep early tonight. Good night!”

Ena promptly logs off nightcord. She grabs her sketchbook and a pencil. Maybe she will remember this person if she draws them.

~~~

Ena screams with fustration. All she had was the back profile of this person. Pink hair in a side ponytail tied with a red ribbon. A blue skirt and white shirt. But that’s it. No face.

Ena gives up and decides to turn in for the night, for real this time.

“Enanan!” she hears a distant voice call to her. She opens her eyes.

“Come on Enanan, or we’re going to miss the train!”

The train? Ena hasn’t been on a train in a while. In fact, she hasn’t been able to step into a train station without feeling sick. When did she even start feeling that way?

Ena focuses on the person instead, but they grab her hand and drag her to the train station. This person… had pink hair and a red bow! This was the person Ena was looking for!

But for some reason, she couldn’t get a clear look of their face. Suddenly, the scene changed around her. Well, I guess it IS just a dream…

Ena now stands under pink cherry blossoms, softly glowing in the warm sunset. The sight sends a pang through her chest. Waves of nostalgia and sadness overcome her. It makes her feel like she’s missing something, or rather, someone.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Ena? I thought you would’ve forgotten them after all this time.”

Ena turns to the person. Pink hair, white shirt, blue skirt… and pink eyes. Their reminded her of shimmering pink opals.

“Forgotten?” Ena scoffs. “There’s no way I would’ve forgotten something as… as beautiful as this.”

The person chuckles. The sound of their melodic laughter sends butterflies to Ena’s stomach.

“Well, you did. We haven’t been here in a while.”

…we?

The mysterious person sees the flash of confusion flicker on Ena’s face. Sadness darkens their eyes. “Well, I guess you’ve really forgotten everything, huh?”

For once, Ena is unable to speak. She doesn’t know what to say.

This person obviously knows Ena. But Ena doesn’t know them. Yet, a familiar feeling tugs at her heartstrings.

They smile sadly. “I can’t really tell you everything because you’ll forget anyway. But I…”

Their words are lost and are muffled suddenly.

“Wait! Who are you?! What did you say?!” Ena yelled. But the only image she was left with was that mysterious person’s smile with a sorrowful expression in their eyes.

Ena wakes up immediately and gets out of bed. Quickly, she gathers her paints and brushes and scrambles for a blank canvas.

She sets up her easel and gets to work. Her hand moves on its own as she sketches the mysterious person, as if she had done it hundreds of times before. Everything came to her naturally as she continued to paint.

~~~

Ena finally sits back. She looks at the clock. It read 7 AM. Damn.

How long has she been painting for? The sky was still dark when she started, but now the sun slowly started to rise from its slumber.

The artist worked tirelessly to paint the fading image from her dreams. She worked and worked without stopping to rest. But now that she’s done, she can finally look at the finished piece.

The person’s silhouette was highlighted by the golden glow of the setting sun behind them. They wore a regretful smile and soft eyes underneath cherry blossoms, with petals drifting around them.

All of a sudden, Ena felt tears well up in her eyes. Before she knew it, she was crying.

She sobbed uncontrollably, and she didn’t even know why for a moment. The butterflies in her chest, the warm feeling when she heard their voice… and the pain of seeing their smile.

Memories came flooding to her, one by one. The missing gaps in her memory were filled. And with it, came joy and tremendous pain. She remembered everything, even the reason why she lost the memories of the most important person in her life to begin with. She could vividly see the blood, the tears, and the train. Her friends and family tried so hard to get her to remember, but Ena couldn’t. She cried even more with guilt and shame. How couldn’t she remember?

“Mizuki…”

Explanation: Mizuki and Ena get into an accident (presumably a train accident), in which Mizuki dies and Ena loses her memories of Mizuki. Nobody can get Ena to remember Mizuki no matter what they did, so they eventually just gave up. i guess you could say mizuki got fed up with that and appeared to ena in a dream.

also, according to my floriography book, carnations and snowdrops represent heartache, consolation, and hope.

[pusha-t2024]

Songs About Dreams

Dreams have always been a source of inspiration for musicians. They can be enigmatic, hopeful, or even haunting, and often serve as a gateway to deeper emotions and thoughts. For music enthusiasts, songs about dreams can provide a profound connection to the artist's inner world, as well as to our own. This blog post celebrates some of the best songs about dreams, each capturing a unique perspective on this universal theme. Whether you're seeking solace, motivation, or simply a beautiful melody, these songs are bound to resonate with you. Read on to discover 11 unforgettable songs about dreams that you won't want to miss.

My company

1. Dreams by Fleetwood Mac

Released in 1977, "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac is a timeless classic. Written by Stevie Nicks during a tumultuous period in the band's history, the song reflects on broken relationships and the hope for better days. The ethereal quality of Nicks's voice combined with the band's harmonious sound creates an almost dreamlike experience for the listener. Despite its melancholic undertones, the song remains uplifting and full of optimism.

Released: 1977

Genre: Rock

Mood: Reflective

Key Lyric: "Thunder only happens when it's raining. Players only love you when they're playing."

2. Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) by Eurythmics

"Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)" was released in 1983 and quickly became a defining song for the Eurythmics. Written by Annie Lennox and David A. Stewart, the song explores themes of ambition and the pursuit of satisfaction. The electro-pop beat and Lennox's haunting vocals create a compelling contrast that has kept the song relevant for decades. It's a reminder that dreams can be both sweet and challenging.

Released: 1983

Genre: Synth-Pop

Mood: Haunting

Key Lyric: "Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree?"

3. Daydream Believer by The Monkees

Released in 1967, "Daydream Believer" by The Monkees is a cheerful tune that became one of their biggest hits. Written by John Stewart, the song captures the whimsical feeling of daydreaming and the joy it can bring. The upbeat melody and lighthearted lyrics make it a feel-good anthem that will put a smile on your face. It's a celebration of the small moments that make life special.

Released: 1967

Genre: Pop Rock

Mood: Joyful

Key Lyric: "Cheer up, sleepy Jean. Oh, what can it mean to a daydream believer and a homecoming queen?"

4. Dream On by Aerosmith

"Dream On," released in 1973, is one of Aerosmith's most iconic songs. Written by lead singer Steven Tyler, the song is a powerful ballad about holding onto one's dreams despite life's challenges. The raw emotion in Tyler's voice and the soaring guitar riffs make this song a timeless anthem for dreamers everywhere. Its message is clear: never stop dreaming.

Released: 1973

Genre: Hard Rock

Mood: Inspirational

Key Lyric: "Dream on, dream on, dream until your dreams come true."

5. California Dreamin' by The Mamas & The Papas

Released in 1965, "California Dreamin'" by The Mamas & The Papas is a classic song that captures the longing for a better place. Written by John and Michelle Phillips while living in New York City, the song expresses their desire to return to the warm, sunny climate of California. The haunting harmonies and melodic flute solo create a poignant and nostalgic feel. It's a song that resonates with anyone who has ever dreamed of escaping to a better place.

Released: 1965

Genre: Folk Rock

Mood: Nostalgic

Key Lyric: "All the leaves are brown, and the sky is gray. I've been for a walk on a winter's day."

6. Dreaming of You by Selena

"Dreaming of You," released posthumously in 1995, is one of Selena's most beloved songs. Written by Franne Golde and Tom Snow, the song is a beautiful ballad about longing and unfulfilled love. Selena's emotive voice and the gentle melody create a dreamy atmosphere that tugs at the heartstrings. It's a poignant reminder of the power of dreams and the emotions they evoke.

Released: 1995

Genre: Pop

Mood: Emotional

Key Lyric: "I'm dreaming of you tonight, 'til tomorrow, I'll be holding you tight."

7. Don't Dream It's Over by Crowded House

Released in 1986, "Don't Dream It's Over" by Crowded House is a song about perseverance and hope. Written by Neil Finn, the song encourages listeners to keep going despite the obstacles they may face. The soothing melody and heartfelt lyrics make it an uplifting anthem for anyone facing challenges. It's a reminder that as long as we keep dreaming, there's always hope.

Released: 1986

Genre: Rock

Mood: Hopeful

Key Lyric: "Hey now, hey now, don't dream it's over. Hey now, hey now, when the world comes in."

8. In Dreams by Roy Orbison

"In Dreams," released in 1963, is one of Roy Orbison's most hauntingly beautiful songs. Written by Orbison himself, the song describes a world where dreams feel more real than reality. The ethereal quality of Orbison's voice and the melancholic melody create a dreamlike experience for the listener. It's a song that captures the magic and mystery of dreams.

Released: 1963

Genre: Pop Rock

Mood: Melancholic

Key Lyric: "In dreams, I walk with you. In dreams, I talk to you."

9. I Have a Dream by ABBA

Released in 1979, "I Have a Dream" by ABBA is an inspirational song about hope and faith. Written by Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus, the song encourages listeners to hold onto their dreams and believe in a brighter future. The uplifting melody and harmonious vocals make it a feel-good anthem that inspires positivity. It's a reminder that dreams can guide us through difficult times.

Released: 1979

Genre: Pop

Mood: Inspirational

Key Lyric: "I have a dream, a song to sing. To help me cope with anything."

10. Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day

"Boulevard of Broken Dreams," released in 2004, is one of Green Day's most powerful songs. Written by Billie Joe Armstrong, the song reflects on feelings of loneliness and the struggle to find one's path. The gritty vocals and poignant lyrics create a raw and emotional experience for the listener. It's a song that resonates with anyone who has faced obstacles on their journey.

Released: 2004

Genre: Alternative Rock

Mood: Reflective

Key Lyric: "I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known."

11. Dreams by The Cranberries

Released in 1993, "Dreams" by The Cranberries is a song about the excitement and wonder of new love. Written by lead singer Dolores O'Riordan, the song captures the feeling of being swept up in a dream. The ethereal vocals and dreamy melody create a sense of euphoria that is both uplifting and enchanting. It's a song that celebrates the magic of dreams and the joy they bring to our lives.

Released: 1993

Genre: Alternative Rock

Mood: Euphoric

Key Lyric: "Oh, my life is changing every day, in every possible way."

Conclusion

Songs about dreams have a unique ability to connect us to our deepest emotions and aspirations. They remind us of the power of dreams and the importance of holding onto them, no matter what challenges we face. Whether you're looking for inspiration, solace, or simply a beautiful melody, these 11 songs offer something special for every music enthusiast. Take a moment to listen, reflect, and let these dream melodies transport you to a world of possibilities. And remember, every great dream begins with a single step - so keep dreaming and exploring the magic of music.

[thebandcampdiaries]

Matt Fly is back on the scene with a brand new studio single, The Moonlit Sky.

Matt Fly (Born Matic Muha) is a musical artist who makes an immediate impression on his audience, particularly due to the energetic vibe of his music, as well as his ability to create tracks that are impactful but also really dynamic and diverse. Matt recently dropped a new studio project titled "The Moonlit Sky", which is a really good introduction to his amazing blend of music. The amazing new single immediately strikes for its no-compromise punk-inspired attitude. Still, it is not your average punk track! It boasts a very thought-provoking hybrid sound that seamlessly incorporates influences from alternative rock, metal, and even elements of melodic rap, creating a truly unique sonic experience.

This new piece of music is really interesting because it really does combine so many different styles and genres under one roof! For instance, the energy, pace, and intensity of the track could be compared to punk music. However, the extra focus on guitar skills and amazing riffs adds so much more articulation, making the songs more challenging and diverse. This is where a bit of that modern metal influence comes in! However, the singing adds even more layers, with some of the lyrics, especially in the verses, almost reminiscent of rap music due to Matt’s unique ability to articulate his phrasing and play with word placing and melody. There is an amazing contrast between the singing style in the verses and the more melodic, louder parts in the choruses is truly astonishing and enhances the dynamics of the song. Another thing that's truly impressive about this release is Matt's DIY mentality with the project. Not only did he actually perform the song (with help from Joulino, who did an amazing solo!), but he also produced and composed the whole thing. If this wasn't enough, he actually shot the music video, too, which adds yet another amazing experience to the vibe of this release, giving it a visual component. This release is a combination of passion, focus, and vision, and it combines instinctive artistry with great musical skills, bridging the gaps between the best of both worlds. Overall, the song embraces a sense of experimentation and sonic exploration, incorporating unconventional.

Blending different music styles can be tough for artists, risking a disjointed sound. Yet, Matt really overcame all the challenges to achieve a massively diverse and powerful sound. The beauty of "The Moonlit Sky" also lies in its ability to connect with listeners on a deeply personal level. The artist's lyrics are raw, honest, and relatable for the audience. This individual touch adds an extra layer of depth and emotion to the track, creating a sense of intimacy and familiarity that draws the listener in despite the song's hard-hitting and raw sound.  

Beyond simply entertaining his audience, Matt Fly's music serves as a deeply personal means of self-expression and catharsis. Listening to music and creating song can be an outlet through which finds solace and motivation, as well as voicing his feelings and emotions. "The Moonlit Sky" is a perfect example of how he can channel his thoughts into amazing melodies and lyrics, which sound very authentic. The track could be described as a testament to Matt Fly's artistic versatility and fearless experimentation. The production, handled by the artist himself, is a perfect match with the style of this release! 

Despite his young age, Matt Fly demonstrates a mature sound that is quite rare among his peers, as this song shows. Moreover, the track seamlessly blends together a variety of different musical influences and elements, from the cutting guitar parts to the soaring vocals and pounding drums. Despite these disparate elements, "The Moonlit Sky" never feels disjointed or haphazard; instead, everything comes together in a way that feels effortless and natural. This cohesiveness is a testament to the artist's skill and vision, as well as their ability to create a piece of music that is both technically impressive and deeply resonant.

"The Moonlit Sky" is one of Matt’s latest studio efforts. The sound of this release is very inspiring in the way that it is so creative and diverse, seamlessly bridging the gaps between a wide range of genre definitions and sonic aesthetics. With so much passion and talent on tap, the possibilities are truly endless. This release will make you really happy if you are a fan of other musical artists as diverse as Green Day, Polyphia, Foo Fighters, Dead Rituals, and many more.

If "The Moonlit Sky" is any indication, the future shines brightly for Matt Fly as an artist poised for even greater heights. Find out more about Matt Fly, and do not pass up on "The Moonlit Sky", which is now available on the best digital streaming platforms.

[vibingindark]

Well shit....3?

AN: Hallo, it's me again. I can not thank you all for notes on this work, it truly warms my cold dead heart. But back to the important stuff, I am sorry for the delay, not only did electricity go out for the majority of the day I also had my....own appointments to get through let's say. As always, I am not checking grammar for I still haven't slept properly and I am crankier than your grandmas combined. Stay safe!

You know that you are shaking, but you aren't sure if it's the cold or adrenalin coursing through your veins that makes you look like newborn deer.

Albedo is still clutching his nose, there are tears in his eyes. You can't help but feel sympathetic a bit before you remember. He wanted to use you as a lab rat. Little shit.

A near-silent footstep forward wakes you from your musing. A pair of mismatched eyes, a pair of gorgeous mismatched eyes. Of course, of fucking course. Kaeya Alberich had to be one who shipped you like cargo to the chief alchemist. How worse could your luck get? You didn't care that your face committed the gravest of all sins in this world, dying a slow and without doubt painful death as a test subject in Dragonspine seemed too cruel no matter what imaginary crime you committed apparently.

They are both looking at you, wide eyes mirroring their.... panic? Horror? Have it been any other situation, you might have a laugh. For what would be the two swordsmen afraid of little old you? But you don't laugh, because right now you are cornered animal and even if you aren't match worthy either of them, you will still bite and claw their eyes out if you can. God, are all Khaenri'ahans' eyes this pretty? No no, bad thoughts you are getting distract-

„Your grace?“ Albedo is still standing a few meters away from you, he didn't move one bit since you punched him. You can't help but be grateful for this small miracle. Still that title. Who is he referring to? Kaeya maybe? He is afterall a descendant of-

„Your grace, can you hear us properly? The wound on your head isn't bleeding anymore, but you still might feel little but out of it.“

.....but Kaeya doesn't have seems to have any injury? Or even a bandage to stop the bleeding? Your head on the other hand has been pounding since you woke up...why is your head pounding again? Did you trip or someth- oh.

Oh.

„Me, you mean me?“ You must have sounded dumb, but you don't particularly care. You must misunderstand, why would he call you that?

„Yes, your grace we mean you.“ Kaeya chuckles at the end and if it isn't such a pretty melodic sound......no, nope, non, nie, nein, we aren't going in that thought process.

„Your grace? Could I please look at your injury? While it isn't bleeding anymore, someone“, Albedo sides eyes the other man, „hit you rather harsh. I would still rather check it nevertheless.“ His voice is rather soft, afraid of startling you even further perhaps?

„Do you call all your test subjects your grace? And mother hen them too? Or is that treatment just for me?“

Okay, they don't seem to get violent at the drop of the hat like others did when they saw you, which is good. Very good indeed, this seemed like civil conversation....almost. You still haven't forgotten that you have woken up on the operating table, ready to be cut open.

„Test subject?“ Confusion....why is Albedo confused? „What do you mean, your grace-“ Realization, then horror (why is there a horror?) before he is kneeling on the ground, ground which is still covered in pieces of glass. Is he an idiot? Why would he do that?

„Albedo don't-“

„Your grace, you weren't going to be a test subject, I would never hurt you like that, your grace. I don't want to hurt you at all“, His voice is still soft, but so, so pained, „we needed to treat your wound, and I didn't- I didn't realize-“ he brokes down at the end, as if the words itself were cutting him.

And among other things, you realize that you are indeed also an idiot because in that instant you are in front of him, trying to calm him down while also kneeling on the above-mentioned shards of glass.

„Albedo, Albedo, it's okay, can you hear me?“ He is sobbing, there is no doubt about it.

A quick glance in Kaeya direction tells you, he is not that much better. His eyes are glazed over, there is panic in his face but he isn't looking at either you or Albedo.

shit

„Kaeya?“ His gaze snaps to you, no more fighting his own ghosts of past.

good

„Can you come over here please? We need to get him to stand and-“ you are interpreted by the second pair of knees hitting the ground and Kaeya's hunched form. They are tears in his eyes too.

Breath in, breath out.

dumbasses, they are both dumbasses

Instead of trying to get either of them to move, to not kneel on the sharp glass, you yank them towards you.

idiots, both of them

You are hugging them both, offering comfort for the first time since you came in Teyvat.

if they are idiots, what does that make you?

You hold them tighter, hushing their cries.

even a bigger idiot, a fool of my own right

The thought strangely isn't bitter, and you feel more warmth in the coldest mountain of the world than you ever did before.

yes, fool of my own right indeed

[spenciebabie]

When ever you have time can I get a sub spencer where the reader was involved in a case (not the unsub or anything someone they briefly interviewed like a bartender) and she hears Derek call him “pretty boy” and she hooks up with him and calls him pretty boy and rides him and chokes him/her fingers in his mouth. Uhg I love Sub!Spencer

“i adore your writings!! if you're down, would you be able to write smnth about sub spencer and reader? nothing specific, i just read a lot of the same stuff and am looking for some new amazing writings if you know what i mean. <3”

-- --

You know instantly that you want him. His doe eyes, his messy hair, his awkward little smile when he says hello. All if it is just combines with his nervous disposition in an inexplicably endearing way. He almost looks too scared to speak, it takes a nudge from his partner to get him to open his mouth.

“Hi miss, your manager told us- um that- uh- you were working the bar on Friday night?” he asks, fidgeting with his fingers and barely maintaining eye contact. “Oh! I’m Dr. Spencer Reid by the way!”

“Nice to meet you Dr. Reid, I’m Y/N. And that’s right, I was here till about 4am″ you respond and he nods

“Well- um, can you tell us if you saw anyone that looked like this in here that night?” he places a police sketch on the bar and slides it towards you. You study it for a moment but it doesn’t look familiar. And as stupid as it sounds you really wish that it did, maybe then you’d have a reason to keep talking to this guy. 

“No, I’m sorry, he doesn’t ring any bells, I wish I could be more of a help” you say, sliding the picture back.

“Well that’s- um, that’s fine! Don’t worry, but uh- if you do maybe see someone, or anything suspicious, or anything at all” he rambles, fumbling with his satchel and pulling something out, “maybe you could give me a call?” he finishes, placing his business card down on the bar.

“Thank you for your time miss.” his partner says, turning to Spencer “C’mon Pretty Boy, we gotta head back to the station” he says it quiet enough that it’s clear it wasn’t intended for your ears, but you register it anyway. And for a split second you’re jealous. You wanted to call him Pretty Boy too, what an apt nickname.

-- --

Several days go by when you finally pluck up the courage to call the number in Spencer’s card. You’ve got no information but the card’s been burning a hole in your pocket all weekend. So you call against your better judgement.

“Dr. Spencer Reid” he answers on the second ring and you’re almost flustered yourself.

“Hi, it’s Y/N, from the bar the other day?” you respond, and there’s a slight pause.

“Y/N? Did you see something? We- he shouldn’t- we actually closed that case earlier today? Did you have any new information?” he rushes out, clearly dumbfounded, but his nervous tone only makes you want to put him at ease, so you cut right to it.

“No! Nothing like that, I just thought that you might’ve given me your number for another reason too? And I wanted to know if you were free for a drink this evening?” you ask, a lot calmer than intended, and there’s yet another pause.

“Me? You- you want to go- as like- wait, is this a date?” he asks, and you can practically see the shocked expression through the receiver. 

“Well I was hoping it would be a date, if you’re comfortable with that Spencer? I get off in an hour?”

“YES! I mean- yeah! Yeah, that works for me, that’s cool, that’s no problem. An hour? An hour from now?” he rushes out and you can’t help but smile to yourself.

“Yup, an hour from now. How about you stop by the bar then?”

“I’ll see you then!” 

-- -- 

The date itself is short and to the point. It’s not that Spencer’s personality wasn’t endearing, but there was something about seeing him in the flesh again that lit a fire in you. Before he showed up you had all but convinced yourself that you were remembering him a lot more pretty than he must’ve been. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was every bit as perfect and more. And this time he walked in in a cardigan, a fucking cardigan. 

So it was only a waiting game from there, what was an acceptable amount of time to spend in public before you rushed him back to your place. And that ended up being roughly 90 minutes. When you asked him if he’d like to go back to yours he clammed up a little before nodding profusely. 

Once you made it in the door you wasted no time. Your lips were on his every second that they could be, only detaching for the occasional breath or to get clothes off until you’re left in nothing at all. You manage to lead him to the bed, pushing him down against it, just a little rough, and then you’re straddling his lap. 

His cock was as pretty as he was, flushed a delicate shade of pink, hard and leaking were it rested against his stomach. 

“Tell me what you want Spencer” you ask, taking his cock in your hand and pumping it gently, teasing more than anything, but his eyelids still flutter and his breathing stutters. 

“I don’t know- I don’t like to be in charge- I just- ah” he manages to force out between little gasps.

“That’s okay. Do you want me to be in charge baby?” you whisper against the shell of his ear as you lean in close, sucking a little bruise beneath it while you wait for a response which comes in the form of a pathetic little ‘please’.

So you sit up again, pumping his cock once or twice more before rising up and lining it up between your legs. 

“I want you to watch Spencer” you command, but his head stays flat on the bed, his eyes shut at the feeling of your fingers tight around him. So you lean forward, grabbing his jaw with your other hand and pulling it up. 

“I said, watch” you breathe, and his eyes shoot open right as you start to slide down his cock, taking it in inch by inch until it’s disappeared inside you.

“Does that feel good?” you ask.

He manages to nod and moans out a breathy “So good” 

So you finally start to move, rocking your hips up and down along his length, all the time watching him. Transfixed by his features, the way he bites his lips, and how they already looked so full and pink before they were swollen like this. And the matching hue that coats his neck and chest as his breathing grows shakier.

The more you move the louder he seems to grow. Moans and whines tumbling from his lips with each rise and fall of your hips. 

“Such a loud boy” you tease, leaning forward and wrapping one hand around his throat in a loose grip, “Such a Pretty Boy too” you moan as your fingers begin to squeeze at the sides of his neck. Cutting off just enough air to have his chest heaving and his eyes softly closing with a raspy moan.

“You like it when I call you Pretty Boy?” you ask and he nods as best he can in your grip.

“Well it’s true, every part of you is pretty. Your bone structure, your body, your cock, the little noises you make while you’re inside me” you list off, as your hips continue to move, albeit shakier now.

“You know what Spencer, I bet you even cum pretty? Do you wanna show me baby?” you release your grip on his throat and the moans start up again, desperate and loud, but still so melodic.

“I’m- oh god- uh- I’m so close- I’m gonna-” he whimpers as his eyes screw shut and his grip on your hips clenches tight. Your own release is only a moment behind as you continue to ride him, and soon enough your collapsing down onto his chest. Both of your chests rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm as you come down in silence.

“You really are the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen” you breathe once you get your breathing back under control.

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Spell Caster Pt. 1

Masterlist

Hawkmoth stood on the platform above, laughing at the two downed heroes. Ladybug and Chat laid facing each other barely able to move, exhausting shining in their eyes. They had fought long and hard but in the end he had led them into a trap, delivering hit after hit till neither could stand anymore. He had led them to his secret garden where beloved wife rested, and poor Adrien could barely keep himself together. He kept fighting, unwilling to let Hawkmoth win even if it was his father. While Marinette did her best to cover her hurting partner, he was just too much for them. Hawkmoth stood talking to Emilie as if she could hear him, going on about how he was finally going to bring her back. Ladybug shifted her gaze from Hawkmoth’s back to her partner’s eyes. Chat was crying as he stared at his best friend, knowing he hadn’t really helped in the fight.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered softly trying not to draw attention to them for as long as possible. “I’m sorry Ladybug, I should’ve helped but that-that’s my dad. I kept freezing up and I failed you.” Ladybug smiled gently, moving her arm and grabbing his hand.

“It’s not your fault Chaton.” A single tear fell from her eye as they stared at each other.

‘You need to move.’

Ladybug tensed at the voice looking around when she noticed Chat didn’t react to it. The voice was a woman's, it was soft and comforting, almost familiar.

‘You need to move now!’

She couldn’t find anybody else in the room, there was nobody but them. Yet the voice was still there, perhaps she was going crazy. It would make sense to her, especially because she couldn’t place who the voice belonged to.

‘Sweetheart, I will explain later I promise, but you must remember!’

Remember what? Why did this voice want her to remember something, couldn’t they see she was in a bit of trouble right now.

‘Ugh! Foolish girl! You are more than just Ladybug!’

Rude. Of course she was more than Ladybug, she was Marinette...she was Marinette daughter of..

‘Yes Marinette! Marinette daughter of! You are so close, remember the book!’

Marinette, she was Marinette, the book...what book, could the voice mean her spell book?

‘Yes! Yes, my little Spell Caster!’

She was Marinette, she was a spell caster. She was Marinette, and she was a spell caster. She was the daughter of Tom Dupain and Sabine-

‘Not by birth.’

Not by birth…Not by birth?! A distressed whine left her lips as she thought of her Maman, not by birth repeating in her head. Until she shoved it back focusing on her current crisis. She was Marinette and she was a Spell Caster, why hadn’t she thought of this before? She tried so hard to split Ladybug and Marinette to hide her identity that she forgot Marinette was special, if not more than Ladybug. What should she do though? She could alter his mind, but would it work? Would the Miraculous Gods affect her powers? Perhaps she could try an illusion?

“Chat, what was she like? Your mother.” Chat looked surprised as a gentle smile crossed his face.

“She was amazing, soft spoken, always so gentle and warm. She hated violence but she never backed down when it came to her family. She’d...she’d never want this to happen.” Chat broke as more tears fell and he held her hand tightly, barely even able to find the strength to.

“ Do you trust me?” She whispered as Hawkmoth began walking towards them. She’d need him in order to pull this illusion off. She’d need to see his memories. Chat nodded weakly, not willing to look away from her.

“Yes” She smiled and her dark blue eyes shifted into an unnatural swirling lavender.

“eciov reh raeh em tel.” Soon Emilie's soft and melodic voice graced her ear. Perfect, now the illusion will trick him.

‘That’s my Spell Caster.’

Who even is this voice, no no focus, she needs to create the illusion.

‘Silly girl.’

Hey! This voice seriously needed to stop distracting her. She turned her head slightly looking past Hawkmoth, and ignoring the smug smirk that she wanted nothing more than to punch off his face. Very hard.

“trapa mih raet reh evah efiw sih mih wohs.” She watched as an angry vision on Emilie appeared behind him looking as if she had sat up from her high tech coffin. Yes, coffin, the woman was dead, soul long gone and she didn’t have to be a daughter of Hades to know that. Daughter of Hades? What? What is she talking about?

‘Soon my child, soon.’

Who even was this voice! Later, she promised herself focusing on finalizing the illusion.

“Gabriel Agreste.” The same melodic voice called out, but instead of a soft and loving tone it was stern and angry. Hawkmoth turned immediately, staring at the vision of his wife in mute shock and disbelief. “What in the world are you doing!

‘I have called in a favor, one that will help you.’

Ugh, this voice popped in at the worst time. At least they were trying to help her though. She watched as Emilie’s illusion shifted slightly and it took her only a second to realize that it was more than an illusion now. No that was Emilie, just not her in body it was her, her soul.

‘Yes my child.’

She let out a wobbly grin as Emile began tearing into her husband. She squeezed Chat’s hand briefly hoping Emilie’s soul would be here long enough to say goodbye to her son. His eyes moved away from his mom’s form back to Ladybug’s.

“I will explain everything, I promise Chat. After this, no more secrets.”

She turned her attention back on Hawkmoth staring at his back intently. How could she get his miraculous? She was exhausted already so it couldn’t be anything complicated. Not to mention they’d need to get out of the lair after she took it. Summoning and a transportation spell, not a good combination when magically and physically exhausted. This left her in a very tough situation.

‘Someone is coming for you. You are too weak right now, the summoning spell will knock you out. Tell your partner to trust the one that comes from the shadows.’

Someone is coming? How can she know to trust them, just because a voice told her? Ugh, this was too difficult. Very well, tell Chat to trust the one from the shadows and then summon the butterfly Miraculous. She’d already taken the Peacock from Nathalie when they fought her earlier, so all that left was Hawkmoth’s.

“Chat, trust the one that comes from the shadows.”

“What? Ladybug-”

“Please Chat, trust me?”

“Always. Milady.”

“Then trust the one that comes from the shadows.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Suolucarim ylfrettub eht nommus i.”

The Miraculous immediately came to her hand but she didn’t get to celebrate as she began to see black spots. Her transformation dropped and she didn’t even get to enjoy Chat’s shocked face. Soon everything faded to dark with only parting words from the strange voice.

‘You and your partner are safe now my Spell Caster.’

She barely remembered what happened when she came to for the first time, everything was blurry as she panicked. Waking up in an unfamiliar room with someone she could barely see standing above her. Marinette threw a messy punch at the blonde above her, just barely missing even in her state. She lurched to throw herself off the bed but Will stopped her pulling her back onto it and talking softly. It did not help her at all and she didn’t stop panicking until Tikki flew in front of her face. Marinette took deep breaths staring at dearest friend. Will began pulling out new bandages getting ready to fix everything messed up in her panic. He was stopped by Marinette’s hand, she gave a weak smile as their eyes met. “Sorry…” She whispered out accent strong before falling back into the darkness.

Sun was directly in her eyes this time and she whimpered until it was blocked. Eyes meeting yet another stranger and instead of their stunning blue were a bright orange. She let out a distressed whine but did not move, Tikki was pressed against her neck. She was safe, even in the company of a stranger. Percy glanced at the door wishing for Will to magically appear before lifting the girl's head slightly holding a straw to her lips. “Drink please, it’ll help I swear.” He whispered trying to comfort her. Marinette took small sips, eyes changing to a soft and soothing blue at the taste of her favorite toasted white chocolate with triple espresso coffee. She glared when he pulled the straw away from her, causing Percy to laugh softly. He ran a hand through her hair in an attempt to be comforting. “I know, I know but too much will hurt you.” Her eyes watered slightly at the comfort.

“The voice didn’t lie.” She said softly, leaning into his hand. He quirked an eyebrow leaning closer to hear her. “The voice said we’d be safe, and we are.” Percy was silent before connecting the dots and nodding continuing to stroke her hair.

“The voice didn’t lie, you’re safe.” Marinette gave a small smile before darkness took her again.

“I can still barely believe it, Mar. The Gods are real, like real real, and you. You! You’re the daughter of one, her most powerful daughter too! I wouldn’t expect anything less of you. You’ve always been amazing in and outside of Ladybug. You’re my best friend, and-and I can’t wait for you to wake up. I need you to wake up please.” Adrien said softly, holding her hand, playing with her fingers. “I don’t know what our relationship will be. I don’t know if we’ll stay best friends or we’ll start dating. All I know is I want you in my life for the rest of my life.” Marinette squeezed his hand gently as her eyes faded to a soft pink.

“That sounds amazing, Rien.”

“Marinette!” Adrien cried out hugging her, laughter falling from both of them along with happy tears.

“Till the end?”

“Till the end.”

Percy smirked standing in the doorway, Chiron beside him as they watched the two.

“The holders of Creation and Destruction, in our camp.” Chiron mused watching the two before turning and walking toward the archery range. “This summer will be interesting won’t it.” He said ignoring Percy’s snort.

“I call training them Chiron!”

“Oh Gods help us, just what we need. Two more added to the chaos that is Percy Jackson.” Percy grinned, turning back to the two.

Yes, it would be a very interesting summer

✨Tag List Closed✨

@kanamexzeroyaoifangirl

@throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen

@athena452

@thornalchemist23

@fangirlnerd001

@witchbitch1998

@insane-fangirl-of-everything

@thewackest

@vivilikesmiraculous

[severetimetravelnerd]

I Don’t Know(13) (ft. G Dragon and MINO)

Part 13

You’ve had enough of this crap.

This series will be updated once a week, every Friday! No specific time though lol. It’s an AU where Jiyong has a younger sister and you’re her best friend! Featuring my OC Mirae as the Best friend. Just saying, it’s not related to any of the scenarios I’ve written so far. Please do leave me some comments or asks! I love receiving them! It’s also a bit of a love triangle situation, so yeah :)) There will be eventual smut in this series.

(I don’t own any of the images used. All credit goes to the original owners.)

I only write on this blog on tumblr, so if you see my work on any other platform, please let me know immediately.

Taglist:

@kwonnansi​ ; @unabashedturkeytreeslime​ ; @happiestgirlontheeastcoast​; @yee-hawwwwwwww​ ; @slayergroupie0128​ ; @herewecomeitsjekki​ ; @happygirl327​ ; @to-all-the-stories-i-love​ ; @kankoshio​

Please comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list:))

This is the second last part!!

Word Count: 2020

WARNINGS:  crying, drinking.

——————————————-

You tried to put up with it. You really did. For two weeks, you respected his wishes and put some distance between the two of you, no matter how much it hurt you to go back to being practically strangers with Jiyong. You didn’t message him. You passed on all messages for him via his manager. You didn’t try and acknowledge his existence at work, even though you were working on his comeback. It got tougher by the day, because his manager had given you printouts of the lyrics of the songs in his comeback for you and your team to have a better idea of what to do and after reading them, you were moments away from bursting into tears, because of the beautiful way in which he put down the feeling of longing he had for you. You knew that feeling. It was what you felt for him. For all those years, and somewhere deep down, you knew you still did. You also had to fight the urge to laugh, because when you read his lyrics about wanting to be close to you, all you wanted to do was shake him and ask him why he was pushing you away again. Yeah, maybe he wasn’t being mean to you this time, but it hurt. It hurt so goddamn much. You were so confused. But you tried. You really tried to maintain the distance. You tried even harder to pretend like it wasn’t affecting you. But you betrayed yourself in the small things. The hope in your eyes whenever you thought you heard his voice. The constant looks towards the door. The general air of weariness about you. The pained expression you got whenever someone spoke about him. Even so, you persevered for two weeks before a combination of things made you snap.

-two weeks later-

You were mid conversation with Hwiyoung when Jiyong’s manager walked in. He was smiling and looked very excited.

“Okay, you guys! I thought it might help with your work if you listened to Jiyong’s album, starting with the title track ‘I Don’t Know’. It’s the song for the music video you’ve been working on!”

And before you could make an excuse to get out of listening to something you knew would only cause you more pain, he started playing it. The moment you heard Jiyong’s voice reading out the message he sent you the night you confessed to him, you found yourself unable to move. You wanted to get up and walk away, but from the sound of his beautifully melodic voice and the things he was talking about, you were stuck in this flurry of memories. They all flashed before your eyes. The day you realised you liked him, the times you cried over him, the times he comforted you; everything took over in this wave of emotions and it proved to be too much for you to bare. The song had ended, but you were still stuck in your own world. You were only jolted out of it when Somin hesitantly wiped a tear off your face. Shocked at yourself, you looked upwards to find Hwiyoung, Lia, Somin and Jiyong’s manager staring at you, confused. You opened your mouth to make an excuse and laugh it off, but you couldn’t.

“I-I need to go.” Your voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”

And you walked out of the room, tears streaming down your face.

What was going on? What was Jiyong playing at? You liked him and then he rejected you. You tried getting over him and more or less succeeded, but then he entered your life again. He told you he loved you, he acted like he cared. He drew you out of your walls, enough to trust him again and expect something from him, when he disappeared and ignored your existence. That song pushed you too far. You were just so confused. You walked down the hall, fully planning on crying until you calmed down and returning to work, when you heard his voice. At first, you thought it was just the song echoing in your head, when you heard it again. His laugh. Pausing, you looked around and realised you were near a practice room, with the door wide open. Against what your mind was telling you to do, you peeped in to see Jiyong doubled over with laughter and the actor blushing and hiding her face.

“Jiyong, stop laughing at me!”

“That is not what I meant when I said dance.”

“Well, I know that now.”

“Here, this is how you do it.”

He turned her to face him and guided her arms to wrap around his neck. Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaned her head against his chest and began swaying to the music. And that was it. You snapped. It wasn’t even seeing the way she looked at him or the way he touched her, though that didn’t help. It was the song he played while dancing with her. It was the same song that played for the first dance at Sohyun’s wedding. It was the same song the two of you danced to over and over again. You looked down at your phone, looking through the images and finding the picture from that night. It was one of the few good memories you had with him. Subconsciously, you always thought of that song as special to you and Jiyong. Seeing just how special it was to him, you felt betrayed. It wasn’t even noon, but you were done. You needed it to stop. You walked off, deciding to go to Mirae’s house and drink your ass off. Little did you know Jiyong heard your footsteps as you walked off. He wanted to run after you, hold you and erase every memory of him with that other girl, but he couldn’t. He knew he had to maintain the space. You were happier without him.

---

Mirae jumped up from the couch when she heard this continuous knocking on her door, almost annoyingly loud.

“Hold on, for fuck’s sake! I’ll be there in a minute.”

She flung open the door, fully prepared to scream at whoever was at the door when her jaw dropped. You were standing there, seriously dishevelled, in your work clothes. Your hair was pulled out of the neat arrangement it had been in in the morning, your make up was smudged from all the crying and you had tear marks running down your face. You had this painfully forced smile on your face and you held two bottles of wine in your hand.

“Mirae! Babe,” You threw your arms around her. “Let’s get drunk.”

“Y/N, what? It’s 11 am.”

“So what? Who cares? It’s just a little wine anyway.”

And before Mirae could stop and ask you what happened, you opened a bottle of wine and chugged.

Mirae gently coaxed the bottle, which was half empty, out of your hand and sat you down.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Do you want to talk about it?”

You grabbed the bottle back. “Nope.”

Before you could drink again, Mirae snatched it away again.

“No, we’re not doing this. You’re going to get drunk and rant and then forget everything if you continue drinking. Not happening. We’re going to talk this out and deal with our problems, okay? We can take however long you want, and you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but you’re not doing this thing again where you try to forget about them.”

You fell silent.

“You wanna take a shower and change into something comfy? I’ll fix you something to eat in the meantime.”

You slowly nodded and left. When you got back, you were decidedly calmer. Your skin was a little splotchy from having cried so much, but you weren’t near hysterical anymore, which is always a good thing. Mirae just quietly watched you and didn’t say a word until you had eaten. While handing you a glass of water, she sat down beside you and pulled you into a hug.

“Y/N, I don’t know what happened, but it’s okay. I’m here for you. We’re going to get through this.”

You couldn’t help it. You started crying again. She held you and let you cry it all out before finally asking you,

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah.”

You took a deep breath and started ranting about Jiyong. Mirae heard you out throughout and with each passing second, she got more annoyed at her brother.

“Good god, he is an idiot. I don’t know what he’s thinking. You know what he rants about when he’s drunk? About how he would do anything for your happiness. I didn’t realise he meant he wanted to pull this bullshit. He always talks about how he will wait for you, no matter how long it takes, if you’re unhappy. That idiot doesn’t realise that there is no need to wait for fuck’s sake. He even heard you tell him you love him. But no, that’s not enough. Why? “She won’t remember saying it.””

She paused when she noticed you staring at her.

“What?”

“I told him I love him?”

“Yeah, you did. You were drunk, which is probably why you don’t remember.”

But the moment she said that, hazy recollections of the night he sat with you in the park started to come back to you. Fuck. You told him you loved him. You told him you missed him. And as you sat there shocked over your words, you realised just how true they were. Shocked, you whispered to yourself,

“Then why is he doing this?”

Mirae sighed. “He’s an idiot, that’s why. Also, he thinks he’s never seen you smile as happily as you did when you were with Minho.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s only because I wasn’t with him!”

“I know that. You know that. The only problem is he doesn’t.”

You jumped up, determined to go and talk things out with Jiyong, when Mirae held your arm, stopping you.

“Look, I know you want to go talk to him now, but it’s only 2 in the afternoon. He’s still at work, with everyone else there. If someone records your conversation, it would be a huge scandal. You should talk to him after he goes home. Why don’t you nap for a while instead? I know you haven’t been sleeping all that well.”

Reluctantly, you followed her advice. She was right. You couldn’t afford to risk a scandal involving you, Jiyong, Yuna, Jae and Minho.

---

It was late when you woke up from your nap. Really late. You rubbed your eyes and reached across to check the time on your phone. 11pm. Wait. What. How on earth did you sleep for nine hours straight?! You doubled checked the alarms you set on your phone. Great. You managed to sleep through all of them. You looked around Mirae’s room and you saw a family photo. Jiyong. That was why you were exhausted in the first place. You couldn’t sleep thinking about him. Well, not anymore.

---

Jiyong was lazily watching some old reruns of a tv show, not able to bring himself to watch anything you liked, when he heard someone maniacally banging on his front door. Worried for a minute, his fear eased when he heard your voice.

“Kwon Jiyong, I know you’re in there! And if you don’t fucking open this door, I’ll stay here all night.”

Worried about you, he gently opened the door, prepared more for you coming in and sitting down. He was not prepared for you storming in with crazed eyes, kicking the door shut behind you, grabbing his collar and pushing him against a wall.

“Wh-what”-

“Enough. I’ve had enough of this Jiyong. Why? Why are we putting ourselves through this?! No. Why are you putting me through this?!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve had enough of you ignoring me.”

“Y/N, I had to-”

“Shut the fuck up and listen. I love you Jiyong.”

And you pulled him closer, sliding your arms around his neck before kissing him.

---

Copyright © 2020-2021 @severetimetravelnerd All rights reserved.

Any unlawful and unauthorized sharing of these works will result in legal action.

(Reblogs are good :) )

[capitaineathos]

I finally wrote something! Here is my Musketeers Summer Solstice gift for @number-of-the-beast-is-666 :)

It's kinda self indulgent fluff, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

~~~~~

Porthos loves his little flower shop. Thinking about where he came from, how he grew up, how his life could have gone, he's proud of how far he’s come. He's built his tiny business from the ground up and the work brings him joy. He has a small base of regular clientele and plenty of orders on his online shop to keep him busy. His arrangements are known for their beauty and for their affordability, and Porthos takes pride in each and every one. He loves his little shop and he knows he always will.

~~~~~

Aramis loves the little flower shop on the corner. He remembers the first time he'd visited; a particularly difficult therapy session had left him feeling low and his counsellor had suggested that he buy himself some flowers to bring some joy to his home. He remembers how sceptical he'd been, how he'd scoffed at the idea, yet found himself drawn to the little shop on his way home anyway. He remembers the warm smile of the florist; his kindness and the joyful enthusiasm that seemed to radiate from every pore. The florist – he gave his name as Porthos – had suggested a bouquet of sunflowers, bright and warm and happy, and Aramis had felt just a little of the despair lift from his heart.

To this day, sunflowers are his favourite bloom.

Now, more than six months later, Aramis is a regular customer at the little shop. He comes to buy himself a bouquet every two weeks, striving to always keep flowers alive in his home. And if it means that he can see the florist’s smile, it will always be worth the price.

Yes, Aramis loves the little flower shop on the corner and he knows he always will.

~~~~~

Today, the shipment is of roses. Porthos likes to stock blooms of various colours; red and yellow and orange and pink, and various hybrid combinations of the four. He unpacks each flower carefully, his calloused fingers always deft and gentle in every movement. He knows that the slightest hint of roughness can bruise the delicate petals and he has grown used to the tender care that they require. And with St Valentines Day fast approaching, he knows he must preserve as many of these roses as possible.

He begins to cut the stems, fingers quickly staining green as the chlorophyll comes in contact with his skin. He finds that he doesn’t mind the stains so much now; not like he did at first. They are part of him now, and they are part of a job that he loves with all of his heart and soul. A fresh smell, the freshness of the flowers that he surrounds himself with, is already clinging to his hands, and will do for the rest of the day. And the sweet, perfumed scent of the roses will linger just as long, perhaps allowing him a whiff even as he falls asleep at the end of a long day’s work.

Cutting stems is repetitive and time consuming and, though he considers himself to be rather good at it, it is inevitable that some of the roses are cut too short to be useful for his bouquets. For Porthos prides himself on quality and he likes to make his bouquets as perfect as they can be. So any roses that are too short, or slightly bruised, or otherwise not quite adequate, are set aside and Porthos laments that he has no use for them. Though they may not be quite perfect, they are still beautiful and could still bring someone joy. Briefly, he wonders if he could take them by the local retirement home after work.

However, his thoughts are soon interrupted as a cheery tone sounds from the front of the shop, signalling that a customer has entered. Leaving his roses aside for the moment, Porthos emerges from the back room to stand by the counter, should he need to offer assistance.

When he sees who has entered his shop, his heart skips a beat.

He sees Aramis often, and the two of them have become amiable acquaintances, but Porthos can’t help the quickening of his breath and the frantic thrumming of his heart that always occurs when the other man enters his shop. He wipes sweaty palms on his jeans and tries to calm the fluttering in his chest.

But when Aramis turns to smile at him, his legs suddenly feel weak under his weight and he has to swallow a sudden burst of nerves.

“Good morning, Aramis,” he says, proud of how level his voice sounds. “Is it time for your next bouquet already?”

Aramis laughs and the sound is almost melodic; clear and bright as a church bell.

“Am I so predictable?” he asks. “I was actually hoping that your sunflowers might be back in season. As much as I love the other bouquets you made for me with the chrysanthemums and carnations and such, I’ve really missed having my sunflowers around.”

Porthos sighs softly. He knows of a perfect bouquet that he could make for Aramis – with bright sunflowers and vibrant irises in a bed of green foliage – but the sunflowers won’t be in season for a few months – not until May at the earliest. And Porthos hates the thought of disappointing Aramis; even the idea of it leaves a hollow, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. Yet, there really isn’t much that he can do.

Aramis must see it in his eyes, because his bright, charming smile falters ever so slightly, even though he tries hard to hide it.

“I assume they aren’t in season yet then? Oh well! Do you still have any of those carnations?”

Porthos helps him to find a bouquet; warm and bright and colourful, just like Aramis himself. It is full of chrysanthemums and carnations and camellias and Porthos almost thinks that it might be one of his best.

Aramis certainly seems delighted with it and, as he comes to the counter to pay, promising to come and pick it up after running a few more errands, he casually asks;

“So, do you have any plans for St Valentines?”

Porthos shakes his head. It has been a long time since he celebrated the day with a significant other, but he hardly minds. He has always believed that having many relationships is much less important than having the right ones, so he has been waiting for the right person to come along.

Looking at Aramis, he almost allows himself to hope that it will be worth the wait.

Yet, he is still surprised when he hears the soft laugh from the other man.

“Me neither. The whole thing may seem rather cliché, but I actually quite enjoy being swept off my feet every once in a while, so it'll be a shame to spend it alone.”

Porthos opens his mouth to apologise, but Aramis holds up a hand to stop him before a single syllable can pass his lips.

“No, it’s ok. I’ve had enough fooling around. I want to find the right person; the one who I'll hopefully spend the rest of my life with.”

Aramis slides the money across the counter and their fingers brush; only ever so slightly, and only for a moment, but Porthos swears that he feels a jolt of electricity surging through his veins.

He looks at Aramis and wonders if he feels it too.

But Aramis says nothing, just smiles and turns to leave.

Porthos watches him for a moment, then forces himself to draw his eyes away from Aramis' retreating figure, to begin sorting the money into the till. But then he finds something unexpected hidden amongst the bills; a small slip of paper with a hastily scribbled number scrawled upon it. For a moment, Porthos can’t move, he can barely even breathe. All he can do is stare at the slip of paper in his trembling hands, barely even able to believe that the moment is real.

However, the sound of the door opening quickly breaks the spell and the words have escaped him before he even has time to think;

“Aramis, wait!”

There is a pause, and then Aramis is peering around the doorframe, one eyebrow quirked in silent question.

“Please... just... wait just one second?” Porthos asks, and Aramis nods in response. Porthos feels a slight weight lift from his chest as he ducks into the back room and collects up the roses that he had previously set aside. He collects them into as neat a group as he is able, though it is nothing like the quality of his usual work. He ties some yellow ribbon around the stems and returns to the front of the shop.

As he offers Aramis the roses, too nervous to say a word, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. In that moment, the entire world is Aramis and Porthos isn’t sure whether he’s about to watch his world crumble.

But then Aramis smiles, warm and bright and beautiful, and breathing seems just a little easier.

“Porthos, they’re beautiful!”

“Just like you,” Porthos whispers, and Aramis’ cheeks turn a dusty shade of pink. He takes the roses and cradles them to his chest as he leans in to gently brush his lips against Porthos' cheek.

“You will call me, won't you?” he asks, and Porthos doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so nervous. Aramis is so bold and loud and cheerful, yet he seems so shy as he asks the question. He can barely meet Porthos' gaze, instead choosing to look down at his feet, and all Porthos wants to do is look into those eyes and fill them with hope and joy.

So he gently places a finger beneath Aramis' chin and tilts his face up until their eyes meet, and he smiles.

“I promise.”

It’s two simple words, but Porthos can see how happy they’ve made Aramis. His smile seems brighter, the tension has eased from his shoulders, his eyes are sparkling with excitement. He is beautiful, and Porthos suddenly needs him more than he needs air.

It is instinct and it takes him by surprise, but he leans in and gently catches Aramis' lips with his own. Aramis melts into his arms and Porthos settles his hands on his hips. His hold is gentle, treating Aramis as tenderly as one of his precious roses. For Aramis is like the flowers; precious and beautiful and fragile, and he deserves the same tender care.

It only lasts for a moment, the soft pressure of Aramis’ lips against his own, but Porthos could swear that no moment will ever be as perfect.

Aramis smiles at him, one hand coming to rest against his cheek.

“Call me,” he whispers again and Porthos nods, forcing himself to take a breath and finding that all he wants is Aramis.

“Absolutely.”

[virgo-myself]

Sapphire Waters: Part 2

genre: black swan au

pairing: bts!maknae x fem!reader

summary: You ran to escape your dead future. If only you could have seen that your future departed the moment you stepped foot in that river.

The moment you stepped foot in the cave, all your ears could pick up was the roaring waterfall behind you. The crashing waters drowned out the booming of the men's voices as they searched the banks for any sign, scent, or print. Your blood ran cold when you remembered your bare feet sinking into the mud along the river bank, and you sank further into the shadows of the cave.

You couldn't hear the men over the constant beating of the waters against the rocks, and so your muscles were prepared to run should the soldiers find your footprints leading into the mouth of the cavern. You had no idea how far or how deep this cave went, but you were more than prepared to find out should you truly have to run.

Your voice screeched at the pressure that suddenly encased around your mouth and pulled you back against a hard surface. Your heart hammered against your ribs and you trembled from your fingers to you toes.

No! I can’t go back! I won’t!

Without any hesitation, you jerked your arms from side to side, momentarily breaking free of the soldier’s remaining arm that squeezed you against him and bolted.

The cave was so dark. You could barely see an inch from your face as you reached your hand out in search of the cave walls, only for you to find empty air. You drifted further to the right, searching in vain for any kind of surface to help guide you from smacking into anything. Still, you found none.

Running out of solutions, you blindly waved both arms around, twirling round and round for literally anything. Anything that could make your isolation in darkness a bit more bearable. You turned so many times you weren’t even completely sure in which direction you actually came from.

Panic began to rise in your throat, and you were suddenly faced with the decision of calling out for help. Surely you wouldn’t die alone in this cave? Not in such darkness?

Then, you felt it. Your fingertips grazed something hard. You shot your hand back and immediately braced yourself against whatever solid object you touched, happy for the contact. Only, it wasn’t the roughness of the cave walls. It felt...soft? Almost like...feathers.

Before you could jerk your hand away from whatever kind of animal you could have stumbled into, something else shot out from the creature and kept a firm grip on your wrists. You couldn’t scream. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Suddenly, your father’s soldiers were looking very good compared to whatever you were positive was about to eat you. You can’t imagine it would be happy that you trespassed into its dwelling—into it’s home.

You squeezed your eyes, ready to accept your fate when the pressure around your wrists softened a bit. Not by much, but the grip was no longer painful. The hold on you remained firm, and it was then that your realized that what you imagined to be three long talons actually felt more like fingers.

“Wha—?” You began, only to have another pressure cover your mouth. You gasped as you jerked back and felt more feathers. The soft fibers tickled your cheeks as you twisted in another creatures hold. Only this time, the creature rumbled with a small chuckle.

“How about this one, Jiminie?” The thing, what sounded like a man with a deep, baritone voice chucked as you whimpered beneath his grasp. The creature’s hand was not unlike the one that had grabbed you before, closer to the mouth of the cave, but it’s hold was stronger; tighter. Combined with the one holding your wrists in front of you, there was no escape for you now. This was it.

Darkness surrounded you and you squeezed your eyes shut in terror. You’re blood practically froze when the creature in front of you brought your wrists to your sides, it’s grip still strong. Your chest was now open to whatever was in front of you, with your back pressed against another. You had no idea who or what they were, but you knew better than to trust that they were human, especially in the outlying forest where their home was a cave that seemed to never end.

You could feel eyes in front of you, but you didn’t dare open your own. A part of you hoped that this was all a dream and that you’d wake up in a few moments safe in your bed in your father’s castle. This was, of course, wishful thinking from the mind of a stupid girl who thought she could escape to a forbidden forest and not die her first night there.

“This one’s...different?” The voice in front of you said it’s statement as more of a question, and it took everything in you to not melt at the sweetness of it’s so-called voice. It had a whisper to it that reminded you of a soft breeze, and yet, it also held an ominous quality to it. You couldn’t decide it you wanted to hear it again or cover your ears.

“I caught it first, Tae—,” a third voice called from a distance. It? Do they mean you?

This creature’s voice sounded youthful, but still a male’s. All three voices sounded like men’s, but there was something about them that just didn’t feel quite human. Whatever it was, it made your skin crawl. However, you couldn’t decide if you enjoyed the feeling or not.

“—you snooze you lose, Kook,” the voice behind you said, it’s voice low against your ear and you could practically smell it’s breath and feel the hot air against your cheek. You squirmed more, but the voice in front shushed you like a child.

“Don’t worry,” the melodic voice said, it’s breath against your eyelashes making you whimper frightfully, “we’ll take good care of you.”

[morepeachyogurt]

a sky full of stars (and she was looking at her)

Word Count- 2.8k

Pairing- Penemily

Summary- Penemily highschool au where they are paired up on a English assignment! Based on this post.

Part 1 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series

Read it here on ao3

Tw’s- very small mentions of substances, minor swearing

A/N- this is the first installment of a series based on my yearning posts, and my first time writing romance/3rd pov, I’d love some feedback!

It’s hard to miss Penelope Garcia. With her bright clothes and brighter personally it seems like the sun shines a spotlight on her. Her golden hair is like a halo around her, she looks like an angel, and perhaps one of these days Emily will get the courage to talk to her beyond small talk and group presentations. She’s pulled out of her thoughts when the shrill bell rings, too loudly for her tastes but this whole building seems to scream at her, so perhaps it’s fitting.

Ms. Blake starts to talk about ancient poetry. The greats from the time periods before everything got so complicated. English is not Emily’s favorite class but somehow Blake’s class is more or less interesting, is it because she’s a milf? Maybe, who’s to say. As the class nears its end, she announces, “Alright, as we close out our poetry unit, we have one last assignment that hopefully at least one of you will enjoy, it’s a group project where-” immediately two hands go up ready to ask the question that always gets asked when a group project is announced. “Before you ask, no, you aren’t picking your partners, I am,” a collective groan comes out of about half the class. Emily isn’t too mad about it though, she doesn’t have many friends, especially in honors English. JJ barely passes English as it is. She’s all alone here, so she’s glad she doesn’t have to suffer through the awkwardness of trying to find a partner before everyone else does and ending up with the one kid who she’s pretty sure has been high the entire year and likes to leer at her in the hallway. “For this assignment, you’ll have to analyze one famous poem, from whatever time period you’d like, and write an essay about the poet’s intentions. If you’d like extra credit, which I know for a fact some of you need, you can do a reading of the poem in front of the class or do a drawing that represents it. Any questions?”

The classroom fills with questions of ‘when is this due?’ And ‘this sucks do we have to do this’. Emily however, is distracted by one very colorful girl in the upper left corner of the room, her spot in the back lets her admire the view without being caught, which tends to make it difficult to pay attention, but well, some things are just more fun than others. Her attention is drawn back to Blake when she hears her name followed by Penelope Garcia.

Oh shit.

On the one hand, this is exactly the opportunity she’d been looking for to ‘make her move’ so to speak, on the other, she’s terrified of making a fool of herself. Emily realizes that she’s been sitting for a bit too long when Blake stops talking and the rest of the class has already paired off. She catches Penelope’s eyes and tries to fight the blush of her cheeks. The sound of her docs hitting the linoleum is a bit too intense for this setting, she prefers their ‘clunk’ when it’s a crowded room, and she can walk like she owns the place. Emily sits down at the desk adjacent to Penelope and gets ready to ruin her chances with her.

“Okay! Hi! I’m Penelope! Which you already knew because Ms. Blake announced it, but it’s polite to introduce yourself to people so I thought I would do that now which I’ve done so I’ll stop talking now!”

Emily can’t help but giggle a little at her rambling, she doesn’t want her to stop talking quite yet, her voice melodic to her ears.

“So, I’m not big in poetry, I’m more of a comic book gal if you catch my drift, so I was hoping that you had some thoughts?” She drags the o in hoping and trails off waiting for Emily to fill in the blanks. It takes her a second too long because her brain is short-circuiting but she manages.

“Yeah okay, um, I’ve read some Sappho back when my mother was stationed in Greece? That could work?” she hopes bringing up Sappho wasn’t too obvious of her intentions, but it was all she could think of. Sappho had a point when she said ‘Sweet mother, I cannot weave – slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl’

“Yeah okay! Cool! We’ve got like 3 minutes left of class, would you want to go to Bricks and Beans after school to work on it?”

“Uh yeah, yeah, that, um, that sounds great! I’ll meet you in front of the school?”

“Yep!” She pops the ‘p’ and Emily thinks she can’t possibly get cuter.

Emily’s walk to lunch has never been quite this mix of excitement and anxiety as it is now. Hopefully, JJ will be able to make sense of what’s happening because the wires in Emily’s brain are very much twisted.

“Okay, I’m telling you it’s not a date,”

“Yeah I know it’s not technically a date but come on. I personally have never asked my group project partner to a coffee shop before. She obviously likes you.”

Jennifer Jareau has been blessed with the right combination of looks that ensures she never had to wonder if her crushes liked her back. Emily wishes she had that special brand of confidence, but it’s simply not realistic, the number of openly queer girls at school is small, the number of them that would be interested in her? Even smaller.

“Look I’m not going to be the loser that gets my heart broken all right,” she steals a fry off of JJ’s tray before her hand gets smacked.

“Ugh I’m so bored here, promise me you’ll at least try. I need some new drama around here and you two would be so fucking cute.”

“Fine. On the condition that when* it goes south you’re buying me ice cream.”

Emily’s day goes by slowly and all at once. Hours turn into years turn into seconds and before she knows it she’s awkwardly standing outside the building waiting for Penelope to meet her.

When she does, Emily’s pulse quickens ever so slightly in her presence. It’s annoying as hell.

“I was worried you were standing me up,” a futile attempt on Emily’s behalf of trying to seem calm, cool, and collected.

“What! I would never, I’ve been looking forward to getting a macchiato and hanging out with you and Sappho all day! Coolest ladies from recent history,” she has to try and stop herself from getting too excited at Penelope’s words, they don’t mean anything, she’s just some loser that she has to work with to get a good final grade in the class. A means to an end, disposable.

“I don’t think Sappho counts as recent history but thank you, ma’am,” ma’am? God, what is she doing, this is going to go south faster than the time she tried to wear ripped jeans to one of her mother’s stupid dinner parties. To her surprise, her stupid comment is met with a giggle on Penelope’s part.

“Why thank you darling,” she replies in a phony southern accent that makes them both crack up, “Lead the way.”

Bricks and Beans is the staple coffee shop where all the high schoolers hang out after school or work during college. The owners are a sweet old couple in their 70’s who seem to be reliving the past with the vintage decorations. The pair settle into a table in the back, a window next to them showing off the highway. Emily is tasked with buying the coffees and Penelope rattles off her order filled with things Emily’s never even heard of.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure the barista is laughing at me now but here is your sugar coffee with whipped cream,” she says as she slides into her seat, placing down the coffees on the minimal free space left.

“My savior,” she says, fake swooning, “Okay so, Sappho? That’s the lesbian right?”

Emily answers with a snort before actually replying, “Yeah that’s the lesbian. I’m sure Blake will love it. I’m like, 90% sure she’s gay.”

“Single English teacher who loves Oscar Wilde? Yeah, I get it. My gaydar is spectacular by the way.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods.

“Um, yeah, okay how about this poem:

‘and in your song most of all she rejoiced.

But now she is conspicuous among Lydian women

as sometimes at sunset

the rosyfingered moon

surpasses all the stars. And her light

stretches over salt sea

equally and flowerdeep fields.

And the beautiful dew is poured out

and roses bloom and frail

chervil and flowering sweetclover.

But she goes back and forth remembering

gentle Atthis and in longing

she bites her tender mind’”

“That’s gorgeous,” Penelope had a dreamy look in her eyes, like seeing a beautiful sunset for the first time. Except, instead of a sunset she was looking at Emily, seeing her, like for the first time, “I love when artists talk about the stars,” she leans back on her chair and looks up as if she’s looking at a constellation and not an off-white popcorn ceiling. Her collarbones are exposed and Emily feels like a 17th-century peasant pining over exposed ankles, “There’s just something about the stars ya know? They’re so far away, but sometimes it feels like we’re there with them. They twinkle at us and at each other,” she pauses to make eye contact, “maybe the greatest love story is in the sky,” there’s a beat too long, Emily doesn’t know how to respond to that comment, it’s hard to follow art without ruining it.

“Or maybe I’m just a sad sap for romance.”

“No!” She gets a of couple heads turned her way, the exclamation too loud for the environment, “I mean no, I get what you mean, they’re beautiful. Sometimes at night I go on my roof just to stargaze. It’s so peaceful there,” it’s now or never, “you should do it with me someday.”

“I’d love that,” it’s almost bashful, the two of them hoping the underlying meanings of their words are being shown, lest their hopes not be conveyed and come shattering down like a falling star.

The sun slowly sets as they work on interpreting the inter-workings of Sappho’s mind. The drinks run out so Emily buys them both hot chocolate, extra whipped cream and chocolate chips for Penelope. When she takes a sip, the whipped cream sticks to the side of her face.

“You got some whipped cream on your face,” she gestures to the offender in question. The blonde tries and fails, to get it off.

“Did I get it?”

“No, it’s more,” after some failed attempts, and the failure of Emily’s common sense, she decides to just get it off herself. It feels too intimate too quick, they both freeze, Emily’s hand inches away from Penelope’s face. Their eyes lock, scared brown eyes met soft blue ones and just for a second, there is peace in between their beating hearts and hands. Emily quickly brings her hand down and mumbles an apology.

After three hours they call it a night, Emily now the proud owner of Penelope’s phone number. On her drive home, she wonders if she’d done right, and she wonders if she’d done wrong. If she was clear about what stargazing meant to her. A branch into her world, her safe space. To share the dark night sky with something is to share your soul with them. Even JJ didn’t know about her nighttime viewings. Did Penelope feel the same way? The shared smiles and small laughs pointed yes. But Penelope was Penelope and Emily was Emily. How could an angel love a human? Why would it sacrifice its virtue for the danger of love? If Penelope was pink and Emily was dark green, could they mix and make something beautiful or would they both end up a ruined brown?

Dinner is tense as always, she does not share anything with her mother, she does not want to. They tiptoe around each other hoping that they won’t step on each other’s toes and crash. Emily retreats to her room the second dinner is over and opens a window. She loves that it gets dark earlier now. The fresh fall air trumps that tacky of scented candles that fill the house in a futile attempt to make it a home. She opens her laptop to finish the concluding paragraph of their essay. She allows herself to be lost in the words of another in order to avoid her own problems of love and belonging. Her phone rings. It’s her problems. They chat with careful conversation about their project and finally, it is finished. It looks good actually, or at least, to Emily it does. It’s not going to win them a Pulitzer, but they’ll get an A.

And then, “Hey.”

“Hey?” They’ve been on the phone for a half an hour, she’s not sure why she’s being greeted all of a sudden.

“Does your offer to stargaze still stand? It’s nice out tonight and, I don’t know, it sounded nice?”

“Yeah of course! Do you, um, do you need a ride or?”

“Nah I got my license and good old Esther. I do need your address though.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll text it to you. Who’s Esther?”

“My car! She’s a lovely thing thought she needed a name. I’ll be there in say, 15 minutes?”

“Sure. Bye Penelope.”

Holy shit.

Okay, she’s got 15 minutes to both have everything ready, but also seem completely casual about the fact that her crush is coming over to stargaze on her roof. The ambassador is long retreated either in bed or into her office, so she shouldn’t be a problem. Emily grabs a couple of blankets for them to sit on to avoid the chilly breeze and a bag of popcorn. She brushes her hair and touches up her eyeliner, not that it’s really visible in the dark, but it helps her feel confident which she’s desperate for at the moment. Her phone buzzes with a text, *im here!!!* It reads. She takes a deep breath before very slowly opening the door.

“Hi,” she whispers, the wind carrying her voice, but it’s just loud enough for its recipient. She closes the door

“Hi! So! Stargazing? That’s fun, I’m like, really excited it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this,” she somehow makes a whisper seem filled with enough energy to power a flashlight that Emily definitely should have brought. They make their way to the intersection where the hill meets the rooftop, and they only trip once, on a stick, but together they stay upright. Emily throws the blankets on the roof and climbs up on the chair before throwing her body on the roof. With her help, Penelope makes her way up after a couple of tries. By the time they lay the blankets out and are sitting down, they’re both practically crying from laughter, her nerves from earlier disappearing slowly.

The laughter fizzles out, and they’re both left staring at the stars. Penelope apparently is an expert of both astronomy and astrology so Emily’s ears are blessed with the sound of her voice. Like sunshine on a sweet summer day. She thinks that Penelope and her are like the sun and the moon, both beautiful, and complementary. Emily’s gaze shifts from the constellations to Penelope’s side profile. The stars shine almost as bright as her, and she can’t help but watch her instead. She can see the stars in her eyes, perhaps they were always there, but they’re more visible now looking in their reflection.

“God they’re beautiful,” Penelope says in awe. Like she can’t believe she’s blessed with the presence of the stars when really it is the stars who should have the honor.

“Yeah, yeah they are,” at this point she’s openly gazing at Penelope. When Penelope turns to meet her gaze she thinks she’s been caught, that it’s over and this night will be one for the ages in terms of beauty and heartbreak. Slowly, a hand makes its way to her cheek, cold like the air around them, but it somehow manages to set her skin on fire.

“May I?”

Emily nods and then they are lips on hers, it is sweet just like her. She’s being kissed under the starlight by a girl who deserves only beauty. Perhaps her dark green can be the field by the sunset of Penelope’s pink in the painting they make together. They do not have to mix, they can simply be combined to create something stunning. They can simply be. They pull apart slowly, and looking into her eyes, Emily thinks that the stars in comparison are simply dull. There is nothing as bright and beautiful in the world as the eyes of your lover.

Tag list- @royalpenelope @scandinavian-punk @kermitsaysgayrights

[legobiwan]

Eyyy Lego! First off: more Standards Deviations might be coming? My eyes are looking. Second! Do you have any Musician Thoughts about the Dark Troopers (from Mandolorian)... is it a leitmotif? Is that the word? I'm not a musician but as you are good at Music *and* Meta, so thought I'd ask you.

Hellooo there, friend! To answer your first question - yes, more Divergences is on the way! My last few months have been insane with work and what I like to refer to as “re-education camp,” and I have finally had time to sit and re-ensconce myself with Star Wars over the past week.

To answer your second question - yes! Musician Thoughts abound, Prepare Thyself.

You are correct in using the term leitmotif, meaning a musical theme or expression representing a certain character or situation. Now, while Richard Wagner was by no means whatsover the first composer to do this (may he not rest in peace, the old bastard and his ego-stroking operas), he is the most infamous and somehow the most well-known for this particular musical device. (And John Williams, who never meet a Romantic/post-Romantic composer he didn’t love to rip off of, is steeped in this tradition. Which is why we have the Force Theme, Leia’s Theme, Yoda’s Theme, etc.)

 To answer your particular question about the Dark Troopers, however, I went back to listen to the Mando Season 2 score (which I have...things to say about) and it turns out they do have a little leitmotif, as shown below:

Now, this theme is interesting, in that it basically revolves around that infamous interval (the D-flat to the G-natural), the tritone, sometimes known as the Devil’s Interval. The tritone is a bit of a contentious figure in history as the Church (that great employer of your favorite Western Classical Composers for many a decade) didn’t hold this relationship of tones in high regard. It’s a strange thing, in our Western, Classical twelve-tone, equal temperament system. It divides the octave in half, almost begs to be resolved to something more pleasing, something more “right,” more tonal, more “natural.” (Which is an interesting topic. Is the tritone grating because of psychoacoustics, in which the two sine waves grate on the ear, in a way similar to a piece that may create “difference tones,” as in the penultimate movement of Ligeti’s 10 Pieces for Woodwind Quintet, in which the unholy combination of piccolo, oboe, and clarinet create an invisible, yet wholly audible “fourth voice” Is this ingrained in our neural physiology or do we deem this an inconsistency, a conflict due to musical culture? Note: I do not have those answers.)

But anyway, we have this tritone interval, which is neither here nor there. To add on to it, this melodic line is produced solely by electronic instruments (pretty sure it’s an electronic guitar with some gnarly pedals, but don’t quote me on that).  Electronic music is not, by any means, unknown to The Mandalorian in general, of course, but still a contrast to the acoustic recorder used for the Mando’s theme and to me, signals a callback to the the droid army, to the clones, to science over nature and the dangers therein. Technology versus a more - and I use heavy quotes here - “natural” order. (Which is a lie in itself. Mando relies heavily on technology, despite being Sentient, which leads to the interesting question of the line between sentience and extension of said technology.)

On top of all of this, the Dark Trooper theme introduces this quick-triplet accompaniment, which harkens back to the original Imperial March.

And this triplet motif is extremely reminiscent of Gustav Holst’s Mars, Bringer of War from his seminal work, The Planets. (which Such. An. Awesome. Piece. and is widely accepted to be a HUGE influence the original Williams score. Give the whole work a listen, if you have the chance. Not only is it a fantastic piece of music, but it might sound vaguely farmiliar. )

Funny enough, the main “lyrical theme” from The Planets is essentially the Dark Troopers motif, inverted, tritone and all.

So, in the end - if we truly unravel this in disproportionate amounts - what we get is a music that refers to a militaristic, bellicose conflict initiated by not-quite human predators with links to the old Imperial regime.

Now, if you wanted my thoughts on Luke’s entrance and his interactions with the Dark Troopers. Ho boi, that is a whole other post in itself touching on Kylo Ren, the “hero’s theme,” and Shostakovich.

[aswallowssong]

Whumptober (Sickfic) Day 3 - Blankets

Yes I know it’s the fourth. Yes I know that I can’t keep falling asleep as soon as I finish writing them. I’ve never been very good at time management!!

Once again playing with @themetaphorgirl‘s Patron Saints! Go read the main fic, it’s incredible!!

Read on AO3

TW vomiting (mentioned)

-----

Hotch: u up?

Alex: Did you just send me a “u up” text? 

Hotch: what?

Hotch: kids sick

Hotch: need backup

Alex: I’ll be there in two minutes.

Alex slowed as she neared the back door of Lincoln House, rubbing furiously at her sleep-laiden eyes. It was two thirty in the morning, and she’d actually been in a really good REM cycle when her phone’s alert startled her awake. She’d thrown some shoes on and was down the stairs in forty seconds, sending Emily a text to pack her backpack and lay out her clothes as she jogged across the grass in her pajamas. 

JJ met her, rubbing at her own eyes and pushing the latch before mumbling, “Do you need me?”

Alex shook her head, moving past her and taking the stairs two at a time. “No, go back to sleep Jayje, we’ve got it,” she called over her shoulder, not stopping to hear if JJ had responded. She raced up the first five floors quickly, only slowing down when the exhaustion caught up with her, and she had to walk up the last two, hands pawing at her eyes and pinching her cheeks as she tried not to yawn. 

Her boys needed her - she didn’t have time to be tired. 

She knocked twice on Hotch’s door before pushing it open, head poking in first and sweeping the room. The bed was empty, the sheet and comforter pushed to the side, half off the bed, as if shoved away in a hurry. The bathroom light was on, but the door was only open a small crack. Still, she could hear Spencer’s quiet cries through the crack all the same. It sounded like he’d been crying a while, the small, hiccuping cries ones that she knew to come after the loud, wailing ones that signaled a real meltdown.

She took a breath, trying to right herself before she had to take over. Hotch wouldn’t have needed her help if Spencer was throwing up. Hotch always dealt with that, and Spencer didn’t want her around, anyway.

They both knew she was squeamish, they both knew she had to focus very internationally on not being sick herself when she dealt with either of them in that way. Spencer had once yelled at her over it, telling her to go away, to leave and leave them alone. He always wanted Hotch, so Hotch needing backup? It didn’t bode well.

She stepped to the door, pulling it open slowly and sighing before she could stop herself. Spencer was curled up against Hotch’s chest, body shaking with what she guessed were a combination of chills and dying sobs. Sobs that were going to open back up as soon as he saw her. 

Hotch was rubbing his back gently, humming in the way that she usually did to calm him down. While her humming was even and simple, Hotch’s was more melodic. She’d heard him sing to himself before, and she hadn’t had the chance to tell him he sounded pretty good. She only hoped that it was what was keeping Spencer grounded; having something to follow. Something to focus on.

The older boy looked up, nodding when he saw her. His face seemed to relax, but the tension that was always there when Spencer was sick remained. She wondered if that’s the look that she wore, too, and if so, if it would ever go away.

Doubtful.

“Hey,” she said quietly, lowering herself to the ground. The bathroom was small, but her legs were short, and she’d crossed them to make room for Hotch’s long gangly ones.

A small squeak came from Spencer as he sat up off of Hotch’s chest, turning towards her before recognition flashed in his eyes. He let out a louder squeak, but it was masked with a sob as he lunged at her, his breath catching as he started to cry.

“Alex!” He wailed, his face nuzzling into her neck and drenching her in hot tears. He smelled like vomit, as did the entire room, and she sent a very clear message to her entire body that it was to do exactly as she told it, and nothing else.

“I’m here. Oh, darling, I’m here. You’re okay. We’re okay,” she cooed quietly, one of her hands holding the back of his head while the other held tight to his back.

“I d-don’t feel good,” he rasped, his breath hitching over sobs. 

She looked over at Hotch, who had put his face in his hands and pulled his knees to his chest. She’d have to check in with him once she got Spencer to sleep.

“I know, baby. I know. I’m here. Hotch is here,” she looked around the small bathroom and felt her eyebrows pull together. “Wait, Bubba, where’s Blankie?”

That was very obviously the wrong thing to say. Spencer’s quiet sobs turned into loud, desperate wailing, his small frame shaking against her with force. Her eyes widened. Her grip on him tightened. “Woah, okay. Shh, you’re okay. It’s okay.” Her eyes darted to the older boy. “Bubba?”

“It’s in the bathtub,” he said from behind his hands. He sounded exhausted, and Alex felt a pang of guilt. She wondered how long he’d been handling Spencer, sick and alone, before he’d texted for help. 

Then his words registered. “Wait,” she said, “What do you mean it’s in the bathtub?”

“It’s in the bathtub. He puked on it, and me, and himself like an hour ago.”

She winced, sympathetic nausea burning at the back of her throat. “Oh god,” she said, “Okay, so you put it in the bathtub because?”

He sighed, pulling his face out of his hands then, looking at her with tired, bloodshot eyes. “Because, I had to grab me a shirt, and him a shirt, and so I did, but he threw up on the blanket again, and I just-” He groaned, hands tugging a bit in his hair before he shook his head. “I just didn’t know what to do with it. I couldn’t let him keep hanging onto it, it was gross. And I was trying to make sure he didn’t puke anywhere else but here, so this is what I did.”

She thought for a moment before nodding. That made sense, though the idea of a very puked-on Blankie being thrown into the shower was a lot for her to think about without feeling like she was going to puke herself. “Okay. And the shirts?”

“Also in the shower.”

Spencer’s wailing hadn’t settled as they’d been talking, loud sobs cutting through the air as he cried his little heart out. It dawned on her that he’d probably started asking for her once Blankie wasn’t an option for him. Blankie was his comfort item, and without it, he was almost certain to be a mess.

When they washed Blankie, he knew it was coming. Having it taken away? Even if it was for a very good reason? On top of not feeling well? A recipe for disaster. 

He took his hands out of his hair, rubbing quickly at his right ear before saying, “Can you stay here? I’ll go throw them in the wash, and I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but-”

“But there’s no way he’s sleeping without it,” she finished for him easily, and he nodded.

“Yeah, and I figured you’d rather deal with the crying than, like, puke-drenched fabric.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, shaking her head quickly and pushing the very idea of it out of her head. “You’d be right.” Her voice went soft after that, directed towards Spencer.

“Baby, shh, honey I need you to be honest. Do you think you’re going to throw up again right now? It’s okay if yes.”

Spencer shook his head against her shoulder, but didn’t stop crying. If anything, his wailing seemed to grow harsher after she spoke. She was confused as to how she could have made it worse before Hotch said quietly, “He promised he wouldn’t.”

“What?”

“He promised he wouldn’t throw up again if I got you. He was asking for you, and I told him I wasn’t sure,” he sighed, “you know, because of the puking thing. Which was dumb because-”

“Because I don’t care,” she said, a little fire in her voice. They’d had the conversation before.

Hotch looked guilty, pulling his hands to be grabbing around his knees. “Yeah, I know. I’m tired, okay? I have a headache, I wasn’t thinking straight.” He shook his head a little before continuing. “But he was hysterical, like he is now, and I didn’t have much of a choice.”

They were both quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room Spencer’s desperate cries. They’d lost a little bit of their heat, sounding more heartbroken than anything, and Alex was dreading the time it would take to wash and dry Blankie.

“Is it going to take more than an hour?” she asked finally, one of her hands moving to trail up and down Spencer’s back.

Hotch shrugged, rolling his eyes in frustration. “Maybe? I’ll use the better dryer, but even then, it might be a while.”

“You better go then,” she said. She watched as he stood up, pushing up the sleeves of his thin sweater before he grabbed the soiled shirts and blanket out of the bathtub. Alex winced as he crossed her with it, but he didn’t seem phased.

“I’ll be back after I put it in. I need to shower.”

“We’ll be here,” she said quietly, shuffling Spencer in her lap so that she could cradle him, letting his head rest under her chin, even though he continued to cry. 

Spencer had calmed down almost half way about forty minutes in, but had started right back up again once Hotch got out of the shower and Alex made the executive decision that Spencer needed to get in the bath. She’d quietly argued that he had vomit in his hair, to which he only seemed to wail louder, and by the time Hotch had helped her get him in, out, and changed, he was unreasonable again.

It took an extra half-a-turn through the dryer, but Hotch walked in with Blankie almost an hour and a half later. Alex audibly sighed in relief, reaching over where Spencer was in her lap to grab it from him. It was still warm, which would be helpful to stop the ridiculous chills wracking his little shoulders and spine. 

“Here, darling,” she said quietly, letting Hotch help her drape it over him and tuck it around his shoulders. “Here’s Blankie. Everything is okay now. I’m here. Hotch is here. Blankie is here. You’re safe.”

Spencer’s wailing cut out immediately. He hugged the blanket to his chest with force that he should not have possessed, one corner of it resting against his cheek. His body relaxed as much as it could, breath shuddering and catching, but starting to even slowly. 

Alex let out a breath she’d only half realized she was holding, thankful they’d already been able to move him so that they were on the bed. He fell asleep in minutes, eyes puffy and face pale, but flushed, and with tear tracks prominent. She moved him off her chest so that his head was resting in her lap, and her back was against the wall. 

Hotch sat next to her, his legs sticking out much further than hers did. He sighed, looking at Spencer and shaking his head.

“That isn’t healthy,” he said quietly.

“It’s been his lifeline since, well, September.”

“No, I know that. I know.” Hotch was quick to defend himself, but he didn't sound defensive. He sounded tired. 

“He won't need Blankie forever,” she said, “besides, this is the first time that’s happened. Hopefully it’ll be the last.”

Hotch sighed, palming at his eyes and nodding before looking down at Spencer with sad understanding. “Yeah, I hope so.”

[tuffduff]

Shopping For A Girlfriend (Steven Adler x Reader)

Pairing: fluffy Steven x Reader

Words: 1,772 

Request: @the--blackdahlia​ “Hi! I was just wondering if you would possibly write a steven adler fic. Just fluff lol. Writers choice :)”

A/N: Decided to do a little meet-cute scenario here :) Stevie is just a ball of sunshine and I adore him. Thanks for requesting him, hope you all like it!

Taglist: @ubernoxa​ @the--blackdahlia​ @reigns420​  @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker ❤️

Steven wandered into the little corner drugstore and immediately stopped in his tracks. Why had he volunteered for this job? He had no idea where to even start to look for what he needed.

He picked the first aisle, but that proved fruitless—just makeup products, razors, deodorant, shaving cream—not what he was sent in to retrieve. He stopped walking again and scratched his head, looking around helplessly, hoping one of the store employees would walk by. It wasn’t likely; it was almost midnight and he was pretty sure he was the only one in the 24-hour mart besides the one employee forced to man the register. All he had for company was the pop music playing faintly.

Steven suddenly heard steps behind him and turned, growing hopeful as his eyes landed on you, inspecting nail polish. Your hair, shiny and healthy, was hiding your face from his and you were dressed in an oversized shirt that nearly swallowed you whole with short shorts barely peeking out from underneath. He approached you quickly before he lost his chance.

“Hey, could you help me out?” His words had come out too loud; you jumped and appeared startled at the sight of him. Instinctively, he stuck his hands up. “I’m sorry!” He laughed, smiling as you placed a hand to your chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“…It’s okay.” You gave a hesitant smile back. Your voice was soft and melodic, and your face—now visible—was, to his surprise, very appealing. All of your features formed a very complimentary complexion, but your eyes, taking him in with a mixture of curiosity and hesitancy, were the most beautiful color he had ever seen. He hadn’t even realized you had spoken.

“Sorry, what did you say?” He apologized quickly, feeling himself smile before blurting out, “you’re just really beautiful.”

For a moment you were speechless, and he found himself getting a thrill out of the grin that graced your features; he had a feeling you were hiding a beautiful smile. He felt an extra touch of pride at the slight pink tone to your cheeks. “Oh! Um, well thanks. But uh, you were asking for my help…?” Suddenly, he remembered his task.

“Oh yeah! Thanks, yeah, I was wondering if you knew where I could find a pregnancy test?” Immediately, your smile shrank a bit.

“…Oh, um, yeah. I think I know where you could find that.” He didn’t like the sudden shift in mood.

“It’s not for me!” He explained quickly, laughing a bit to himself; maybe you thought he was an idiot.

“No, of course not.” You replied, and he was still unable to figure out the source of the disappointment dripping into your tone. “Here, should be down this aisle.” Steven followed behind you down the aisle full of feminine products and condoms, watching you stop and bend over to look at the items on the shelf. He tried to keep his eyes from wandering, but he would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t finding you more and more attractive by the second. “This should do the trick.” You told him, placing a box into his hands.

“You’re amazing! Thanks a bunch!” You only gave him a half-smile and nodded a little.

“Sure…well, good luck with everything.” Steven frowned a little, tilting his head.

“What do ya mean? I told you it’s not for me.” He said. You chuckled a little.

“Of course not, obviously. But I mean, your girlfriend…or wife.” You mumbled, looking down. Steven blinked for a moment before he started laughing.

“Oh, I see what you mean! No, it’s not like that; see, one of my best friends is in the car outside with his girlfriend—well, not really girlfriend; that’s why this would be sort of a problem if she were pregnant. It’s a funny store really—the condom broke. She’s actually probably not, but she kinda got upset right before she was gonna come in, so I just volunteered to get it and didn’t realize I had no clue where to find it. So, you really turned out to be an angel sent to help me out.” He found himself rambling, smiling more and more as your smile returned.

“Oh…” You murmured in embarrassment. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Don’t be!” He reassured you, unable to stop himself from reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. He felt an odd flutter of something stirring in his stomach when your cheeks turned pink again. “Hey, I never even got your name.”

“It’s Y/N.” You smiled. “God, I wish I were wearing something different; I look like a mess right now.”

“I can’t imagine you getting any better.” At this point, he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he found you to be very beautiful. Never had he seen a more natural beauty in someone before, apparent in your every action.

“You’re just saying that.” You replied, eyes narrowed playfully at him, though your pink cheeks still gave you away.

“Nope, honest! You distracted me from the moment we met.” He smiled at the sound of your laughter. “Hey, Y/N, if I could ask another favor…” he murmured, looking down at the pregnancy test in his hands. “I’m thinking I need a couple more things.”

You helped Steven find the rest of his impromptu list; prenatal vitamins and a bag of gummy bears. “Just in case, you know. I’m not going to assume what she’s going to do if she actually is pregnant, but…just in case. And who doesn’t like gummy bears?” You smiled at him and nodded.

“That’s…really sweet of you. You must be a great friend.” You replied, to which he shrugged despite the fact that your praise had him glowing.

“I try, I mean, I believe in doing good by the people you love, you know? What you give, you get back in the end.” Steven realized to himself the longer he stared at you, the more he voluntarily would have loved to spend the rest of his night doing so. “So, Y/N, you know why I’m here so late, what brings you in here?”

“Well, not really a reason at all.” You admitted. “I actually told myself I was gonna head to bed early tonight, I’ve just been exhausted lately from everything, and yet…here I am.”

“Did it hurt?” Steven asked with a grin, watching your face grow blank with confusion.

“Did what hurt?”

“When you fell from heaven?” You groaned at his words, the both of your laughter combining together. “C’mon—it’s a sign! Clearly we were supposed to meet and you were meant to help me out.”

“Is that all I was meant to do?” You asked hopefully, crossing your arms behind your back and biting your lip. He wasn’t expecting the heavy wave of butterflies that hit him, he didn’t know feelings could just grow like that. But that was that, he was sure he had fallen in love with you.

“I hope not.” He replied quickly. “Do you want to go out sometime?” The both of you were dragging your steps as you headed towards the register, reluctant to let your time together end.

“I’d love that.” You replied with a bright grin and Steven thought he was going to float away, just like in the cartoons.

“Sir, are you paying cash or credit card?” The clerk asked him, popping his dream bubble. He turned his attention back to the lady, digging in his pocket.

“Cash…” He trailed off when he realized the total was more than the cash Slash had given him for the pregnancy test before he came into the store. He didn’t have any more money on him, they weren’t yet making much at their small gigs. “Uh…” he chuckled awkwardly. “This is embarrassing, I’ve only got enough for the test. I’ll just, put the other things back.” He was surprised when your hand stopped his from taking away the other two items.

“I’ve got it.” You told him, already opening your wallet.

“Oh no, Y/N, I could never let you do that.” You shook your head at him and smiled.

“We should do good by other people, you’re right. Let me?” He smiled and finally nodded. If he wasn’t sure before he definitely was now; he was head over heels for you.

“I’ll pay you back, I promise! You’re amazing, Y/N!” He gushed as the both of you walked out of the store.

“Don’t mention it, I don’t mind. But if you want to do something to pay me back…here.” He grew confused when you stopped him from walking and turned him away from you. “Give me the receipt?” Suddenly, he could feel you using his back as a writing surface before handing him the receipt. There was a smiley face and a heart, your name, and your number. “Call me.”

“I definitely will, and don’t be surprised if it’s tonight.” You shook your head at him and giggled.

“Steven, geez, what took you so long? You only had to get one thing!” Slash hollered over at him from where he sat in the car. You peered towards the car curiously, smiling and giving him a lingering touch to his shoulder.

“You should probably go, I’ll be hearing from you soon, okay?” You said, giving him a little wave.

“Totally, I promise! Be careful, okay? Have a good night!” He called, waving back and watching your every step, ignoring Slash honking like he didn’t hear it.

“Did you get lost?” Slash asked when Steven rejoined him in the car.

“Yeah.” He laughed. “But I found it!” He passed the bag to Denise, Slash’s friend. Her face lit up when she looked in the bag.

“You got me gummy bears? Thank you, Steven! Oh…and prenatal vitamins. That’s so nice.” He couldn’t tell from her tone if the purchase was a good thing or not, but that wasn’t exactly his business.

“Just in case, it’s okay if you don’t use them! Or if you don’t have to. Y/N bought them!”

“Who’s Y/N?” Slash asked in confusion. “And where’s my gummy bears…” he muttered, flashing Steven a grin as he laughed.

“Oh, this girl I met in the store—she actually helped me find everything. She’s great, she’s got the prettiest smile—”

“Fuck, Stevie, you were supposed to get one thing and you came out with a girlfriend!” Slash shook his head, laughing a little.

“Hey! Not yet, she isn’t.” He defended himself, but couldn’t keep from smiling, already itching to get to the nearest phone. “But I think she will be.”

[tellyouwhatilike]

WILDFLOWER PART 1 - CALUM HOOD

So this is what I’ve been working on! I’m finishing part 2 as I post this. I really hope y’all like this, it’s been super fun to write and I haven’t posted any new writing in a loooooooong time- so please let me know what you think! <3 

Part one does not contain any smut, part 2 will 100% be smut lol. 

WARNING: This contains mature language and subject matters, 18+ please!!

__________________________________________

                               PART ONE

 “Cal!” An excited voice called from across the large patio.

Calum’s head whipped around while his eyes searched the scantily-clad crowd at one of this month’s industry networking events the label requested he attend. He had to admit, this was one of the more amusing ones, a themed pool party with a barbeque style spread. With that signature phony, ostentatious LA touch to it, of course. This is the kind of thing Calum typically steered clear of in the past; less so since officially uprooting his life to Los Angeles and being conditioned by his band’s record label to make appearances at gatherings like this on a regular basis. His eyes finally landed on his target and his lips curled up instantly—the melodic voice that had called out his name over the masses of valleyspeak blending together in the background, and subsequently, the only true reason he’d agreed to represent the band tonight at this function.

“My, my, my; look what we have here” he said with cheeky implication as he took a moment to slowly look her up and down with a shit-eating grin spread across his face, leaving his eyes squinted and cheeks rounded. She looked even better than he remembered, her long tousled hair neatly spilling over her shoulder just how he’d always liked it. It had been months since he’d seen her in the flesh and the sight of her was enough to make him feel giddy to his core.

“I’m so glad you could make it” she replied with a breathy laugh, cheeks slightly flushed as her arms wrapped around his neck for a quick squeeze ‘hello.’ In that moment, she was very pleased with her decision to wear her sleek black one-piece suit under her cutoff shorts with a red lip—a combination that always delivered. His palm lingered across the span of her waist around her back, squeezing gently, letting it run down to her hip before letting go. When they parted from their embrace and their eyes met, Calum’s cheeky confidence quickly turned shy and boyish, as it typically does.

“Yeah, me too. This is—this is quite the soiree.” He motioned to the mingling bodies around them. “Um, so how have you been, how was Morocco?” He looked down awkwardly at his shoes for a brief moment, cursing himself and nature for not being smoother. Trying not to come off too eager although he’d been thinking about this interaction daily for nearly a year now, whether they had been speaking or not.

They had been engaging in a modest flirtation for months and months now, they had tried going on a handful of dates right around the time the band came back to LA from touring to focus on writing the following album, ‘Calm.’ The term ‘dates,’ however, should be used loosely; Calum’s record label doesn’t approve of the guys getting snapped by paps casually dating around. Rules have certainly been broken in the past— but he figured, since they’d only just met, it wasn’t worth the headaches that these things cause on the harsh world that is the internet. People always talk and it tends to confuse the masses. So, they opted for more intimate yet appropriate venues for their rendezvous like dinner at Calum’s outdoor living space, tight knit shin-digs at his bandmate Michael’s house, or lengthy facetime calls from their respective home couches.

Calum was absolutely smitten- a feeling so new to him, he couldn’t even remember if he’d ever felt it with anyone else before. He was also terrified things would fall apart just like they always had in the past, she ran free and untamed, never staying in one place long enough to make lasting connections, making Calum wary of her potentially leaving and breaking his heart. He could always see it in her face, there was a wild side to her that she couldn’t explain. Things quickly began to prove too consuming for him as he tried to juggle really getting to know her, despite his reservations, and focusing on pouring his heart into the upcoming record. He’s the type to completely immerse himself in whatever it is that’s important to him, so he felt it wasn’t fair to them or his art if they continued building on the relationship. The pair chalked it up to poor timing and decided to give each other space while he worked with his band tirelessly on their music for a number of months. Forever the wandering bohemian, she jetted off to spend some time living with friends in Amsterdam and then frolicking about in Morocco for the summer.

Once the record was released, promotion was finished and the tour was completed; he and his band mates arrived back to LA for some much-needed R & R before eventually returning to the writing process to start it all over again. She returned back to her home base, for the time being, sun-kissed and thrilled to be back in the states for one major reason. Calum had spent nearly the whole first month home catching up on sleep, ordering sushi on grubhub and lounging around in boxers doing next to nothing; standard procedure. But now he was fully rested, extremely rejuvenated, and he was eager to get up to no good.

“I’ve been good, yeah, Morocco was gorgeous and…mind-altering…” She trailed off, losing her train of thought while taking in his face, she shook her head slightly. “Wow, it is so nice to see you again.” She reveled, her green eyes catching light of the twinkling strings adorning the canopy above where they stood. “It’s been a while, huh?” Her cheeks swelled up as she flashed him a smile and attempted to calculate quite how long it had been in her head, remembering some of the last times they hung out vividly. Thoughts shifting to his scent, how he looked different but it was somehow even better than before, the way he had to look down to meet her gaze, the hand he had pressed against her waist when he greeted her earlier, how she felt at ease and wired at the same time to be in his presence.

“Way too long” He said through a toothy smile, already having to remind himself of how they vowed to take things slowly over the text messages leading up to tonight, and simultaneously imagining leaving cherry red marks down the length of her neck. He couldn’t stop sneaking glimpses of her exposed skin and imagining her dark hair splayed across his crisp white sheets or holding her tightly while she wore one of his old t shirts, he desperately hoped that’s where this night was headed. His tongue slipped out and ran its way over his bottom lip when the thin black strap of her bathing suit slipped down her shoulder, his hand moving before the rational side of his brain had any time to talk him out of it. He gently brushed her hair back to expose her bare shoulder and slid the strap back up into place for her, their eyes meeting as his hand lingered there for a moment too long. His jaw tensed as he pulled his hand away, looking down briefly, she swallowed and made herself busy with her champagne flute. He swore he could feel little tiny electric sparks flying each time his skin met hers. “Sorry” He muttered, ever apologetic.

“Don’t be” She said softly and gave him ‘the eyes,’ the eyes that Calum still thought about before he fell asleep some nights. A face that looked like it came straight out of his dreams, innocent yet sinister all rolled into one, making him shiver. A face he couldn’t help but imagine staring up at him while she takes him into her mouth slowly, then all at once. Quite a regular fantasy he’d been having these days, this face felt like she was giving an open invitation to daydream of her. They’d been calling or texting almost daily for around two weeks since she arrived back home, anticipation rising with each passing day.

“So,” He cleared his throat some, “What are you doing after this?” He asked, meaning for it to come off more charming than it did. “I mean, would you want to go hang out somewhere… else? Or something.” He suddenly regretted going in for the kill so soon, he couldn’t read her expression, though he thought if he stared at her pouty pink lips and long dark lashes for long enough, he might. She smirked to herself and let out a chuckle, using her index finger to poke him in the chest. He, rather dramatically, twisted his face up and rubbed the spot vigorously with his palm.

“Owww!” He whined, wide eyed and feigning disdain. “What did you do that for?” He carried on while she rolled her eyes playfully. Tired of the party’s cold chickpea ‘cheeseburger’ sliders and shallow conversation, she decided to speed this process along. She was no fool, they’d both been waiting for this very moment as an excuse to hang out alone again.  

“Let’s get out of here.” She leaned in to put her lips up close to his ear, brushing her palm up against his bicep lightly. She pulled back to look him in the eyes, a little smile taking over her plush lips his eyes kept finding their way back to. “I wanna come to your house” She stated, stepping forward slightly to close the space between them, her scent creeping up into his nasal passages and making his mouth go dry imagining how sweet she’d taste.

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat, his eyes widening. “Sure… I mean, yeah, sounds good. I’ll grab the car.” He said, trying (and failing) to sound as cool as possible, turning abruptly and b-lining for the gate, lightning suddenly coursing through his veins at the thought of what was to come. Once to the car, he used the mirror to check his hair as he pulled around to the front drive of the house, moving it around and smoothing it down, not making much of a difference with his recently-buzzed ‘do. Now, he knew exactly where the night was going.  

(To be continued...)