#i am simply filled with too many emotions

[wakacreations]

Infernal Happy Holidays

I wish everyone a happy holidays! Santa Waka made it in time for Christmas lol. Anyways I hope you all enjoy and take care! I'm going to go pass out in the sleigh. If anyone's curious about the song lyrics it's Merry Sinsmas by Samuel Haft & Yoav Landau.

Zevlor:

There is a fleeting wonder when looking upon these flurries with renewed but still tired eyes. I hold few memories of this time of year. One recollection bleed into another sparsely did I have any to covet so dearly. When was the last time I partook in these winter festivities, would come to cross my mind. I used to have a family once long ago before the city was plagued by undead. Maybe it comes with time that I have forgotten their names but not their faces. A crackling fire from the hearth I used to nestle in close under mounting furs. Getting scolded by loved ones for leaving a trail of crumbs from sneaking about to consume some baked treats in my youth.

I have since then spent most of my life away in the midst of redden snow drifts. Another skirmish for I to be sent to the wilds or to simply stand guard outside the city’s borders. Though I had become a quiet observer of these holidays. I did commit to one tradition; to share a reluctant pint with the other Hellriders when the city was safe once again. Though does it still count in celebration of the season if the act was only so brief? Well depends upon your interpretation truly I suppose. Maybe I am a sentimental fool. The Hell’s were never the most idyllic welcoming environment for holiday cheer. Though we had to be very particular about caroling down below, you know. Too uncivilized for the local residence of the Hells for any Faerunian holiday to take root there but we made do. Now this time of year has come again once more. No longer am I greeted by the clash of metal, the uneasiness of reaching nights nor the endless days. I am slowly coming to peace with the tiredness that I can never be rid of. A life long lived and filled with rich emotions littering my skin. There is a pounding in my chest that won’t cease. Honestly this is a recent development. A feeling that I wasn’t sure I was capable of. With each of my steps there was trepidation not of tragedy but of possibilities as your steps aligned with mine. The cold touch of winter leaves their impression upon our cheeks and nose as we chase its delicate beauty. The winds used to howl long lost voices replaced with familiar hearty laughter rings in my ears. I can’t help but stare in awe. There are moments left to witness. Our battered hands falling in hands. Moments left to remember. Stained boots lead a gentle steady pace. Moments to cherish. With a bashful smile that meets the eyes, “happy holidays my love.” Moments to yearn for. A heartbeat goes in sync. Moments left to live for.

Rolan:

I always had complicated feelings about the holidays. There are many who enjoy this time of year and those who can't be bothered. My first experience celebrating was in the orphanage. The first time I snuck out I saw the twinkling lights of Baldur’s Gate and later in Elturel, walking alone in winter night markets. I was young then. My hands have since healed but there are still faint scars from my time being a lowly tiefling beggar. I was lucky enough to have met my mother as she was freely giving out pastries on one of those frigid nights. This is one of the holidays I spare no expense to celebrate and partake in. I used to dream as a child that I would not be alone during this time of year. Don't dwell on that too much. I have never been alone since I had Cal, Lia and my mother for a time. Time I still look back on fondly except for the teasing from those troglodytes. Now I have Cal, Lia and… Now you. It is an odd feeling to start over again once more. I watched you as you helped set up the decorations. Cal and Lia are busy fighting over where to place the tree. Those two haven't changed from even back then. I feared we would never have a home to celebrate in but look to where I have found myself. I don't know where I would be without you.   “Cal! Lia! We will sort that out later! Tav has finished decorating the fireplace,” I called behind from my latest project. “You have the scrying eye ready to capture, Rolan? Are you sure it will work?” My little brother poked his head out from behind the mass of leaves. “Don’t worry I have tested it well Cal.” I ushered for them to come sit down before the fire. “Tav let's hurry before those idiots steal all the pillows,” Lia tossed you a couple. You two raced to sit down. Children, all of you. After much arguing and equal distribution of pillows as much as Lia protested. Everyone is finally settled in well… almost. “Move your big head Lia, I can't see!” If you two don't stop roughhousing… “Well stop slouching and maybe then you can see!” You two are grown tieflings! “Quiet! The both of you!” I snapped. Cal and Lia sat straight up in attention. Your hand found my own with a reassuring squeeze, I took a deep breath in. Gods! They're such a headache. “You alright,” you looked up from where you laid on my shoulder. “Better now,” I smiled back. But I wouldn't have it any other way. “Three… Two… One… Happy holidays!” “Did the eye go off?” You idiots. Happy holidays, Tav.

Raphael:

I was always one for grandeur celebrations. I have hosted my own fair share with immaculate planning and the finest quality materials the realms have to offer. There is a certain charm to the city, seeing through the thin veil placed upon their wide toothy grins of these mortals. Desperation hangs heavily through the chill in the fresh air like the first savoring breath in after wrung lungs. Always a familiar comfortable formality, a reminder of the impending frost. There is a wide variety of handcrafted decorations I have come to appreciate. The brilliance of these gemstones adorned by the lost souls wandering through the congested cobblestone paths, ever looking for a humble refuge from the seeping claws of winter's hand. With utmost care I would enjoy plucking the twin stones to examine the craftsmanship but I will save the activity for another time. Under their breaths, the notes of old traditional hymns wishing the downfall of passersby. If only there were new original compositions this year. My what a delight would that be to my ears. The prime season of contracts and to reap one's dues had arrived. There is a long waiting list but should I start with my favorite clients? Where to begin I wonder. Whom would be my first claim?

You kiss me on the cheek and look me in the eye. The wisp of words grabbed my attention. A love ballad, how often are those to be strummed by foolish bards. You tell a lie that you will soon return to me. The soft patter of keys and the familiar soothing resonance carries above the chaotic chatter of the city. Well this is quite a surprise as I stepped away from the busy square. Where have I heard this voice before? I loved you then, Where was the source coming from? I looked around at the nearby taverns. I love you still I followed the tune through the snaking alleyways. Whomever they are, a siren indeed. And now, it won’t be long until you’re here at last. I was greeted by a crumbling home. The sound bled from the battered door before me. And then I ask, “If your heart still burns for me?” I peered through from a side window. There was a figure hunched over surrounded by clutter. Barely any light illuminated the dwelling. I would travel every ring of Hell By the flicker of candle light I caught a glimpse. Just to see if you’ll be mine. Mouse? Know that you are on my mind. You chuckled, the last of the chord settled atop the keys. 

“I suppose that is how far my creative genius will take me today.” You yawned, arching your back into a full body stretch. Ah, so it is you, little mouse. Looking over your shoulder our eyes briefly met. Snap. “Raphael?” It has been awhile since I heard my name on your lips. “I must have been mistaken,” rubbing your palms against your lids. There was no one there. You turned back towards the piano. The lid of the instrument began to close shut. “Alone for the holidays?” You went deathly still, the hairs on the back of your neck stood. “Don’t stop. Keep playing. I wonder how the piece will end.” I could hear the thumping of that heart of yours like the fast ticking of a metronome. No that tempo won’t do. “Why are you here, devil?” You stared up at the wall in front of you. “I thought I heard a little mouse squeaking from the square. Only to discover a sweet lonely songbird in their place,” I purred into your ear.   You were the one to invite a devil into your home. Who else would you be singing to? “Get out,” you held firm. “Don’t you miss me?” You shivered when I leaned in close. My fingers splayed onto the keys. “Indulge me and I will make it worth your while. Why spoil the holiday cheer in the air?” I began to play my own composition. “Since when did devil's care about mortal holidays?” Your ears perked up at the chord progression. “Mortal holidays hold a special place in the Hells. It marks the time where we are most productive.” Ah, it seems you remember these notes quite well as beads of sweat start to form on your temple. Though I do prefer an organ to play my final act. “Fuck off!” You ceased my wrists for my fingers to still at once. “The longer you hold my attention, mouse. One less soul inked onto my parchment. I am a very busy devil. Now shall we?” I missed this banter of ours. Reluctantly you let go. I placed my hands to where your fingers danced on the keys. You shut your eyes and cursed under your breath. Vaguely I could make out the words, you should have casted silence. Even if you had, I would still find my ways to listen.

“Let's start from the beginning then.” Your hands shoved my own out of the way. Eager, are we? “No, let's start further along in the passage at the line. What was it again, mouse? Your confession?”   “You pack a bag, you say goodbye,” pressing down onto the keys. “You never said that phrase,” arching a brow. “I did at the very beginning. Which confession are you referring to in the piece, Raphael?” Don’t play dumb mouse. "The part where you say I lo…" “I am waiting, devil.” You spoke as if you had other plans for the evening.   “Let's move on to the next couple of lines.” “You kiss me on the cheek and look me in the eyes. You tell a lie that you would return to me.” It was no lie, little mouse. Your hand froze atop the keys. Afraid to say it once more? “Sing the next phrase, mouse.” Come now you spoke it effortlessly before. “I already did and now it's your turn,” your playing resumed. “I will finish the song if you sing along in harmony. I will not entertain you otherwise.” Hmm? There are many souls waiting for me, mouse. What is stopping I from leaving out the door to go off and collect? “You will never know the ending of the piece.” Who are you to be in a position for negotiations? “Do you honestly believe that I-” You moved to slam the lid. “Alright! Insufferable pipsqueak.” I should have you hanged like an ornament. I cleared my throat, the piano accompaniment came in.

I loved you then, I loved you still.  And now, it won’t be long until you’re here at last. And then I ask, "if your heart still burns for me?” I would travel every ring of Hell Just to see if you’ll be mine. “I thought you were a bard that was above singing a love ballad,” I could hear that grin of yours. “I thought you were above serenading for a devil but here we are. You have impressed me. To think you would compose such a ballad and expect the devil not to appear.” You squirmed in your seat and rightfully so for having me sing along. “... Happy holidays, devil.” Well that is a surprise. Maybe we can make this a time honored tradition. I will have you singing my own original work. With a better… as I looked around at the clutter rat's nest you've accumulated.. scenery would be putting it generously. “Likewise, mouse.” You glanced up at me awaiting for there to be more words to utter. My you are already pouting, remember that for next year when you will celebrate in my home. “Happy holidays, little mouse.”

Haarlep:

Sometimes I miss the ice and snow of Cania. “Haarlep, you ass!” But the more that I pondered the thought. “Well that's on you mousey! You never knew how to dodge my projectiles,” I ducked as you threw another ball of ice. The more that I came to the same conclusion I missed being able to wander. “Such a naughty little mouse. You said we were to merely play in the snow, not the ice.” You rolled your eyes at me. My have I seen you do such an act one too many- “You are too cruel!’ I wiped away the snow from my face. There you stood laughing as I was made to stare up at you where I lay in the snow. The mortal realm is missing the otherworldly luxuries I have grown fond of. You squealed as I ran towards you. But I suppose it is a worthy exchange… “I caught you little thief.” For I too never grow hungry. The endless blanket of white was beneath us. Well you were always eager to satiate my appetite. “What is to be my reward?” You have always piqued my curiosity. Seeing you panting before me, hair all tussled from exertion, a flush across your cheeks. Such a tasty mortal you were. “Whatever you desire Haarlep.” You chuckled, reaching out to cup my face. There was always fun to be had with you. “Whatever I desire. You won't like that. Are you sure about that, my sweet pet?” My face came down to yours. You nodded your head like it was the easiest decision to make. I will enjoy every last moment with you. “Happy holidays, Haarlep.” Your voice hitched as I laid my hands atop your wrists. You were always fun to toy with. I will never grow tired of you. “Happy holidays,” I pulled back. With a flick of my tail you were covered in snow. “Haarlep!!!” You screeched at me when I took off into the air. I told you already, but you never do listen. “I thought you would have better aim by now,” I weaved through your barrage of snowballs. My heart's desire will always be to use you for my amusement. “Haarlep, where are you going?” You paused your movements as you watched me flew further away. That heart of yours is quite delectable. “I will be waiting for you at our home.” It should always be pounding in your chest. “Haarlep, no!” You dropped the snowballs in hand. “Come back!” You quickly ran to chase after me. So, you do enjoy my company. Always think of me whenever you feel that beat of your heart. “You were the one who brought us here!” You attempted to wave me down but I happily waved back with a smile. You are mine for the rest of your lifetime. Enjoy it while you last and I will enjoy you. “Happy Holidays, my precious mousey. See you very soon.”

[cream-and-tea]

[ID in alt]

our paige.

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[meowzfordayz]

i belong to you

Author’s Note: short ‘n’ fluffy (w/ a hint of bittersweet 😅). 🥰

i belong to you

Hashira x Reader, Iguro Obanai x Reader, Tokito Muichiro x Reader

Word Count: ~1,800

CW: death content, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Song Inspo: I Belong to You by Jacob Lee

~faqs~

They’re all here for us, and I feel their aura, but just for a moment, I’ll pretend it’s just you

He’d never thought of himself as the marrying type, and yet, standing before you, he suddenly couldn’t imagine himself any other way. But truly, it wasn’t even sudden, this slow burning, building, consuming love for the feeling of your hand in his. It was inevitable, the revelation of his heart to yours, just as you gradually unveiled your own for his.

“In this existence of hardship and darkness, I can somehow wake every morning to an absolute truth: that you are beside me, and together, we will overcome anything.”

Perhaps this is a tall promise when every morning brings a different absolute truth as well — that death will come. Some day, somewhere, and likely all too soon. But it’s a promise worth fighting for. This much he knows in his chest as he feels your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing gently as if to promise in return Yes, yes we will.

As Gyomei kisses you, soft and certain, he swears that the world falls to pieces leaving only your body pressed into his, an achingly sweet melody ringing in his ears. And when you whisper I love you, he’s confident that you hear it too.

And I will wait to hear you say, as a tear rolls down your face, I belong to you

“Darling,” she whispers, a steady thumb reaching out to smooth your teardrop into your skin, “Are you okay?”

You nod once, a drowsy smile crinkling the corners of your eyes as more tears escape, tongue heavy in your mouth as she continues wiping your cheeks, her brow furrowed with an adoration that’s always been impossible to resist.

“I’m amazing,” you rasp, catching her hand and cradling it to your chest, ears warming as she kneads her fingertips into your sternum, “I belong to you.”

Mitsuri’s nose scrunches, worried expression soon replaced by a beaming grin, the sweetest of giggles filling the room as she maneuvers herself on top of you, hovering with her palms planted on either side of you while her breasts rest plush against your own.

“I am so in love with you,” she gushes, “With my wife.”

Her lips touch your forehead then your chin, careful fingers tilting your head left and then right to kiss your earlobes, goosebumps raising along your forearms and spine.

“We’re married,” you gasp, stopping her ministrations with a gentle squeeze to her hips, “I get to love you for the rest of our lives.”

Shining eyes meet shining eyes as she lets out a happy sob, bodies intertwined as you settle into the perfect quiet of forever.

Tomorrow I’ll open my eyes, and I will whisper to my wife, I belong to you

Loving you hadn’t come easy, but it hadn’t come especially hard either. For all the anger and regret of her past, you had reminded Shinobu that the present and future persisted, irregardless of her willingness to live in or for them. Perhaps this is why she yelled at you so many months ago, and perhaps this is also why she’d cried. You’d accepted her emotion so simply and resolutely, welcoming her frustration and grief with open arms instead of the very spite and scorn she’d always reserved for herself. And she’d heard herself, for the first time in too long of a time, say I’m sorry. Those two words muffled in the armpit of your haori, her face buried in your embrace, had made your devotion clear as day — a devotion she’d found herself happy and happier to reciprocate.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, airy voice tinged with a solemn adoration discernible only to you.

“Mmm,” you mumble, yawning widely as you burrow yourself deeper into her chest, “Hi.”

“Would you like to know something?” she asks, warming her cheek on the top of your sunkissed head.

“Definitely,” you mumble, limbs clinging drowsily to her small frame, “I enjoy knowing things.”

She slips a cool finger beneath your chin, raising your sleepy gaze to meet her determined stare, mouth soft and decisive when she kisses you. You sigh sweetly into her affection, her smile familiar yet delicate against your own, trying her best to tell you I belong to you. 

I know they see us but they don’t stand a chance, I have kissed those lips a thousand times before this

The first time he kisses you, you think he’s dying. Of course, all paths lead to death, and being a Hashira tends to make this path even shorter, but expected pain is pain nonetheless. You cradle his head in your lap, his hair sticky with blood, his strength overwhelming you Kyojuro-san, stop moving! despite his wounds as he cranes upward to touch his mouth to yours. Tasting of sweat and ashes, your tears cleanse his cheeks and chest, a silly little grin brightening his face while grief and longing sit deep into your stomach.

The second time he kisses you, you’re pissed he’s alive. Well, not that he’s alive, but that he took so long to tell you. Maybe that isn’t fair of you considering he’s just woken from a coma, and maybe that isn’t fair of you considering he limped literal miles to locate you, and maybe that isn’t fair of you considering you were his sole thought and concern as soon as he regained enough consciousness to process that he was, in fact, conscious. But the brittle dread of He’s unlikely to make it has haunted you for months, and-

“Hey,” he rasps, cupping your jaw with a shy tenderness, “No need to ruminate, I am still here.”

Your gaze flits left and right, blurred as you avoid focusing on the steadfast devotion in his eyes, lips tingling from the surety of his kiss.

“I can see that,” you state dryly, your shaky inhale dissolving into a disbelieving sob, his arms atrophied yet certain as they wrap around you, his weight leaning shaky and perfectly against you.

The third time he kisses you, the fourth, and fifth — they are as precious and known, new and familiar, as the very first time.

And when he kisses you for the nth time, when he kisses you as your newly wedded husband, you realize you have already lived a thousand best moments of your life, and that a thousand and more await you.

If I could be honest, here at the altar, I refuse to grow older unless it’s with you

Age has always been a distant thing to Sanemi. He isn’t oblivious to it — the passing of snow into buds, to blossoms and then to the falling of leaves. But it’s a torturous thing to acknowledge. To remember how many more years he’s gotten to live than his mother. His five siblings. Colleagues and strangers alike. He feels as old as he is still young, steeped in death and dishevelment, sticky with yearning and fear, a projection of surety and arrogance fooling even himself. Strong and foolhardy, the clock ticks as he loses a piece of himself, another piece, another and another, to the illusion of living. And then you come slicing into his horizon.

Everything about you is almost polished. Your form, your strength, your five senses, flexibility and endurance… and somehow, he can’t find it in himself to loath you for being less than. Because you are more. You are more than the endless repetitions completed silently before him; you are more than the scrapes and bruises, stubborn retorts and near misses. You are the plate of ohagi left on his doorstep after a particularly harsh exchange of words. He knows he struck first, and yet, you open yourself to forgiveness. You are the letter received when he’s gone on an especially grueling mission. There’s not much to say, but your consideration of him makes him hesitate. You are the sight for sore eyes when he finally realizes, a year and some months into pondering your existence practically every day, that he wants you to be close. Closer. As close as you’re willing to be.

And if close means noticing when your face begins to wrinkle, your hair starts to grey, and your body learns what it is to ache, then he’s ready to remember. To reclaim. The pieces of himself he’d surrendered to time and space; he wants them back as much as he wants you.  All you ask of him is his whole self, and if he is to grant your wish, then he must acknowledge a simple truth: growing old need not be a curse any longer when it could instead be a gift to share with you.

“You’re crying,” you giggle, tears of your own dripping down your cheeks.

“Of course I’m crying,” he scoffs, faint grin softening the edge in his tone, “I get to marry you.”

Yes they can see us but only at a glance, only you know the man that I am beyond the surface

Marriage is hard. Learning someone inside and out is hard. Choosing that same someone day after day is hard. Growing and relapsing, nurturing and surrendering, saying Yes, and. A lifelong commitment of love is hard. And, honestly, Giyuu didn’t think he’d ever get there. He didn’t think he’d be waking up most mornings with your nose nestled in his chest or his arm, your leg stuck between his. He didn’t think he’d be murmuring I love you, a cold and desperate determination I will come home to you flooding his lungs as you do your best to stand strong when he waves. When he leaves. Knowing without a doubt that you’d crumpled as soon as he disappeared from view. He didn’t think he’d be returning to the softest, the greediest, the fondest and proudest, kisses. Kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, ears and chin. Kisses on his lips. Your hands checking his limbs while you listen to his breath; your eyes glistening as he whispers over and over I missed you, I love you, I missed you, I love you. He didn’t think he’d be this intimate, this familiar, this devastatingly and perfectly close to anyone. To you. And yet, here he is.

“Giyuu?”

“My love?”

“I love when you call me that.”

“I know.”

You blush, “Oh,” promptly hiding your face in his armpit.

“And I love getting to love you. I love that you are my love.”

[nochukoo97]

we can’t be friends (wait for your love) - teaser

pairing: childhoodfriend!jk x childhoodfriend!oc

summary: you and jungkook have been friends since birth, and as you both grow into teenagers, you can’t help but have some sorr of longing feeling towards him. but after a turn of events, you move away from your home town, growing apart from the boy you onced were close to. almost a decade later when you decide to move back, there’s someone familiar yet unfamiliar waiting for your arrival… was this the universe giving you a sign about him?

warnings/tags: story starts off when the both of them are children, but most of the plot is when they are adults :)), eventual: kissing, an emotional rollercoaster 🥲, they’re stuck in a ‘what are we’ moment, playing a waiting game of who confesses first, a little bit of angst, smut, but fluff too hehe

a/n: IM BACK 🥲 after being in writers block sighhh but i am back hehehe hope u r excited for this!! anyways this is just an intro for the actual fic, its more of what happened before the present which will be in the main part hehehe

TAGLIST OPEN!!

(this is the introduction, the main part is coming soon :)))

MASTERLIST

23 July 2007

You’re currently wedged between two bookshelves in the living room of your house, eyes trained on the words in your book, giggling to yourself when the plot takes a funny turn. Meanwhile in the background, Jungkook and your brother Taehyung, both a year older than you, the two ten year old boys play fighting in your parents backyard, their game was way too rough for you to even watch, you decided.

That’s always the way it’s been since you were young, Jungkook’s mum dropping him off at your parents place as he spent time with your brother, mostly roughhousing like they are now, and you, at nine years old, simply tucking yourself in another fairytale, which to you seemed like a much better way to past time.

You never truly spent a lot of time with the two of them when Jungkook would come over, besides the once-in-a-while moments where your parents would make you guys bond a little through board games or card games which the two elder boys would never take seriously, the games always ending in them either throwing the board game pieces at each other or stacking the cards into a pyramid.

When it came to school, you tried your best to stay away from bumping into your brother at school, but you’d always end up being teased in front of your friends by him and Jungkook, making fun of your two pigtails or your very glittery pink bag you had just gotten as a birthday gift, but you were used to it anyways, having grown up with a brother.

12 August 2011

Four years go by and now you’re finally completing your last year in middle school, Jungkook and your brother having moved on to high school, and as expected, they end up attending the same school, as they have done their whole life.

But since four years ago, a lot has changed. You’ve grown much closer to Jungkook, having gone on quite a few trips with his family, and you could even consider him a close friend. Most importantly, he’d grown from being a kid to a teenager, even though he was only a year older than you, the 14 year old boy suddenly became someone you always wanted to hang out with. To you, you saw him as someone cool. Instead of teasing you along with your brother, he now would defend you from your brother’s teasing, treat you to ice cream on the weekends and even teach you the video games he played with your brother.

“And then he let me get as many toppings as I wanted,” You tell your friends, clicking the buttons on your phone to show them the picture of your ice cream, filled to the brim with all sorts of toppings because Jungkook said you could.

“You’re so lucky, I wish I had a boyfriend like that,” Jiyeon sighs, pouting her lips as she sulks.

Your face turns red, tip of your ears warm as you quickly deny, “He isn’t my boyfriend! Just a friend… In fact he was my brother’s friend first,” No, you couldn’t even begin to try and imagine Jungkook as someone more than your friend!

“Well, but you should definitely confess to him on valentine’s day, it’s in like six months,” Yuji twirls her hair, nudging your leg slightly as she giggled.

To the three of you, as 13 year old girls, having a valentine was a big deal, especially since the whole idea of a crush and all was new to you guys as teenage girls.

“No! I don’t have feelings for him! He’s just nice to me I guess,” You frown at Yuji, just because she confessed to her crush and now apparently has a boyfriend, doesn’t mean you need to do it too, you decided.

You didn’t have a crush on Jungkook right?

You push away the thought quickly, this whole topic was so taboo to you, it made you feel squirmy thinking about it. No, you didn’t have any sort of feelings towards the older boy, never.

-

So that day when you arrived back at home, spotting Jungkook and Taehyung sitting at the table and doing their homework, you decide to take a seat away from the certain boy.

“Huh? Why are you sitting all the way there? Come back here,” Jungkook hums, pulling out his earphones in bewilderment, you had always sat next to him whilst the three of you would do homework together after school, nudging him here and there to ask for help with a math problem.

“I- okay,” You scooch towards the chair next to him, dragging your books along the table as you avoid eye contact. Your cheeks heating up again as you remember your conversation with your friends in school earlier, it made you feel all tingly inside, but why were you being so weird in front of him?

“You’ve been staring at that math problem for ages, need help?”

You jump up in surprise at Jungkook’s voice , letting out a small yelp as your brother snickers at you from across the table, you kick his shin in response, sending his hands flailing to the injury, mumbling some cuss word you don’t understand.

“Yeah,” You only muster out a whisper, handing over your pencil to the boy, who finds your behaviour a little off but nonetheless, doesn’t comment on it.

And while he explains the solution and working to find the value of X, you can only notice his eyes, his nose, the mole under his lips, the scar on his cheek from when he fought with your brother years ago, his lips.

And then you for yourself to snap out of your daydream when his eyes lock with yours in confusion as to why you’re staring at him instead of your workbook.

03 January 2012

But then five months later, opportunity for valentine’s day didn’t even come for you anyways, as you pack your bags to move miles away from the place you once called home, since your father had been posted to a new country for his work.

The whole idea of leaving your life behind and all the people you’ve ever known since young was such an overwhelming feeling that you didn’t even think once about your feelings for Jungkook anymore, or maybe you did once, but it didn’t matter.

So when you tugged your luggage and watch your brother sadly hug his best friend goodbye at the airport, reality struck, you wouldn’t ever get a chance to even properly assess your feelings for Jungkook anyways, so you simply wave him goodbye, not looking back so you don’t think further than a goodbye.

He did make sure to exchange his Instagram and Facebook with you, promising you and your brother to keep in touch, which you agreed to. Maybe there was a part of you that wanted to cling onto the idea of him, but you didn’t let yourself believe that anyways.

[benisasoftboi]

I am so happy with the conclusion of BBC Ghosts.

There were so many things I loved about the final series that I can't even keep it all straight in my brain, I'll have to rewatch it all (and the Christmas special, of course! Must remember it's the not the true end yet!)

But something I can immediately say I loved was what they didn't do. See, that line in the trailer that turned out to be from episode 5 - about there being a pattern to when they move on - worried me. One of the best things about the show, to me, is how there truly is not any reason at all to why the ghosts are there, or when they go. It's something the creators have said over and over, and that the show has always backed up; we saw so many times that, unlike in most ghost media, addressing unfinished business or achieving emotional resolution changes absolutely nothing. Pat hit some sort of emotional resolution three times. And Julian realised the importance of family, and Robin saved someone’s life, and Thomas discovered the truth of his death, and so on and so on. Finding closure isn't the end, and equally, the end isn't predicated by a climatic conclusion. It just happens. And the same is true for why people become ghosts. It just happens. And you exist, and fill your days, and then you’re gone. And no one knows why.

It's kind of the most agnostic television show I've ever seen.

I love that. Every other afterlife show I've ever seen has some kind of reward and punishment system. Or at least says that there's a reason for things, some kind of higher power at play, not necessarily a god but something like it. Even the American adaptation felt the need to bring Hell into it, which is why I need to specify that I'm only talking about the British version here. And I feel like a lot of fans wanted there to be reasons too, or felt like there simply had to be, that it wasn't even a question. I get why - it's not just because it's the standard for ghost narratives. It's really uncomfortable to think about the randomness of life and death. But Mary didn't go because of anything that happened before that day, and Cap was never going to go because he came out, and one day, when they've all gone, there won't have been a reason for it.

Because the real point of BBC Ghosts is that there is no point. You’ve just got to make it through the days, surrounded by people that irritate you, trapped in a confusing world where you’re mostly powerless. And it sucks, and you're angry, and sad, and bored as hell. And you also find happiness in the mundane chaos, and you get really good at chess, and watch the ants in the garden, and write bad poetry, and read terrible romance novels, and gamble money you don't have, and go camping, and play games, and learn French, and watch reality TV, and have sex with a decapitated Tudor nobleman’s body, and dance to old music, and look at the stars, and find that you actually really love all those annoying people after all, and that’s the point.

[d-targaryenshoe]

Subtle Admiration - Anthony Bridgerton

Word Count: 1176

Summary: When one admires the person they love, would they not also show the world?

Anthony Bridgerton was a man of impeccable standards and unwavering convictions, known throughout London for his sense of duty and commitment to his family.

As the head of the Bridgerton family, his actions were often scrutinized, and his decisions influenced the lives of his siblings.

Yet, despite his formidable exterior, he harbored a deep, unyielding love for his wife, you, a love that he was determined to showcase to his family.

It was a crisp spring morning, and the Bridgerton household was abuzz with activity.

their late father, Edmund Bridgerton upheldThe family had gathered for breakfast, a tradition upheld by their late father, Edmund Bridgerton.

Anthony, seated at the head of the table, observed his siblings with a mix of affection and amusement.

Each one was unique, yet they shared an unbreakable bond.

As Anthony sipped his coffee, his gaze drifted to you, seated beside him.

You were engaged in a lively conversation with Eloise, your laughter like a melodious tune that brightened the room.

Anthony's heart swelled with pride and adoration.

You had seamlessly woven yourself into the fabric of the family, your warmth and wit endearing you to each of his siblings.

"Anthony, you're staring," Daphne teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Do you have something to say?"

Anthony chuckled, setting his cup down. "As a matter of fact, I do." He stood, drawing the attention of everyone at the table.

"I've been thinking a great deal about family lately, about how fortunate I am to have all of you in my life. But there's someone here who has brought me an immeasurable amount of joy and fulfillment, someone who has made our family even more complete."

He reached for your hand, helping you to your feet. "Y/n, you have been a beacon of light in my life, and I want everyone to know just how much you mean to me."

You blushed, your eyes shimmering with love. "Anthony, you're too kind."

"No, my dear," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I am simply stating the truth. You have shown me what it means to truly love and to be loved. You've brought laughter and happiness into our home, and for that, I am eternally grateful."

Benedict, seated across the table, raised his glass. "To y/n, the heart of our family!"

"To y/n!" the family echoed, lifting their glasses in unison.

Anthony smiled, his heart brimming with contentment.

He had always known that his love for you was profound, but now, standing before his family, he realized that his affection for you was boundless.

He was determined to ensure that everyone saw the depth of his feelings, not just in words but in actions as well.

Later that day, Anthony took you for a stroll, a favorite pastime of yours.

The park was a riot of colors, the flowers in full bloom, and the air filled with the sweet scent of spring.

As you walked hand in hand, Anthony couldn't help but steal glances at you, marveling at your beauty and grace.

"You're unusually quiet today," you remarked, a playful smile on your lips. "What's on your mind?"

Anthony stopped, turning to face you. "You. Always you." He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. "I want the world to see how much I adore you, how you've changed my life for the better. You deserve to be celebrated every day."

Your eyes softened, and you leaned into his touch. "Anthony, you do celebrate me, in so many ways. Your love is more than enough."

"But it's not enough for me," he insisted. "I want to do more, to show you off to the world, to our family. They need to see how deeply I cherish you."

You laughed softly. "You have a romantic soul, Anthony Bridgerton. Very well, if it makes you happy, I shall allow you to spoil me."

Anthony grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "It makes me very happy indeed."

True to his word, Anthony set about planning a series of events and gatherings where he could showcase his love for you.

He organized family picnics, soirées, and even a grand ball in your honor.

Each occasion was meticulously planned, with every detail reflecting his admiration for you.

At one such gathering, a garden party held at Aubrey Hall, the Bridgerton estate, Anthony outdid himself.

The gardens were transformed into a magical wonderland, with twinkling fairy lights and fragrant flowers adorning every corner.

Guests mingled and laughed, the air filled with the sounds of music and merriment.

As the sun began to set, Anthony took your hand and led you to the center of the garden, where a string quartet played a soft, romantic melody.

He held you close, swaying gently to the music.

"You've outdone yourself, Anthony," you whispered, your eyes shining with happiness. "This is beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you," he replied, his voice filled with love. "I wanted everyone to see what I see every day—the incredible woman who has stolen my heart."

You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "I love you. More than words can say."

"And I love you," he murmured, kissing the top of your head. "More than anything in this world."

As you danced under the stars, surrounded by family and friends, Anthony knew that he had succeeded in his mission.

He had shown everyone just how much you meant to him, and in doing so, he had strengthened the bond of your family even further.

In the days that followed, Anthony continued to find ways to express his love for you, both grand and small.

He would surprise you with handwritten love letters, leave your favorite flowers by your bedside, and steal moments alone with you whenever he could.

Each gesture, no matter how simple, was a testament to his unwavering devotion.

The Bridgerton family, too, embraced you with open arms. They admired Anthony's dedication and the way he openly cherished you.

It brought a new sense of warmth and unity to the gatherings, a reminder of the power of love and the importance of expressing it.

One evening, as you sat by the fireplace in your home, you turned to Anthony with a thoughtful expression.

"Do you know what I love most about you?" you asked.

Anthony raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What is that?"

"Your heart," you said softly. "Your ability to love so deeply and to show that love so openly. It's a rare and beautiful thing."

He smiled, his heart swelling with pride. "And do you know what I love most about you?"

"What's that?" you asked, your eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Everything," he replied, leaning in to kiss you. "Absolutely everything."

As you sat together, wrapped in each other's arms, Anthony knew that he had found his true soulmate in you.

You were his anchor, his confidante, and the love of his life.

And he was determined to spend every day showing you just how much you meant to him, letting the world see the depth of his affection.

[littlejapanesesightseeingtrip]

"Just Satoru"

Synopsis: Your ex-husband just wanted to see your daughter on his day off. But can this ordinary day lead to the revelation of secrets kept? Will you finally get answers to those unanswered questions? [warning: super cringe, I wrote this last year, this was my very first fanfic ever. Just releasing this so that you guys can read my raw emotions. hehe. enjoy 😗😆🙂]

| V

Satoru sighed as he completed the last of the curses assigned to him for the day. Checking his watch, he raised his eyebrows in disbelief—it was only 1 PM. He felt a sudden jolt of pain stab at his forehead. How could he be getting a headache now? 

He had barely slept for two hours each night for the past month and had lost track of how many missions he had completed.

Ever since moving out of Y/n’s house, his life had become a whirlwind of misery. He had started overworking himself, moved into a new place, and lost the comfort of shared moments.

---

Thinking of the good old days when Suguru and Y/n were around brought him bittersweet solace. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that you felt the same way. Y/n's father was a non-sorcerer, while her mother was a First-Grade Jujutsu Sorcerer. Taking after her father, she had always been grounded, but she could never forget the day her mother introduced her to her disciple, Shoko Ieiri. Shoko became her best friend and introduced her to her classmates—Suguru, Satoru, Utahime, and Nanami.

Shoko had described Satoru as "the strongest," "a guy with a cocky attitude," but to Y/n, he was simply Satoru. Treating him as an equal, trusting him, and appreciating him for who he was—this broke the shell he had lived in for years. They shared a healthy relationship that blossomed into a family, welcoming their little daughter, Himawari, who had Satoru wrapped around her little finger.

Their life together had been picturesque until it all came crashing down. Satoru began to act tense, and one day, he dropped the bombshell: "I cannot be a family with you anymore. I am leaving." Those words shattered Y/n’s heart. Perhaps he was always just the "cocky, selfish guy" everyone warned about.

---

Satoru hesitantly dialed your contact. Despite everything, he couldn’t bear not seeing his little princess, which was also an excuse to check on you. 

Each ring made his stomach churn.

“Satoru. What is it?” Your voice was cold, filled with indifference, which shattered his heart. He couldn’t blame you; he had asked for this distance.

“I have the rest of the day off. I was wondering if... if I could drop by and see Hima.”

“She’s at school, and I’m at the office. But her school ends in an hour. You can pick her up and spend the afternoon with her. I won’t be home until 7. You have the keys.”

“Oh… okay then.” You hung up, leaving him sighing, and headed to his daughter’s school.

---

Satoru found a shady spot near the school gate and waited for Himawari. Other parents gossiped about him, the handsome man who abandoned  his wife. They had heard about how Himawari said her daddy no longer lived with her, and the rumors spread among the group.

 "It’s always the handsome men who abandon their wives. Good thing Y/n is self-dependent. I bet he’s only here to win over Himawari too."

The bell rang, and children began to pour out. A certain girl with blue eyes and white ponytails searched for her father and, upon spotting him, bolted over.

“Daddyyyy!!! I didn’t know you were coming!” He scooped her into his arms.

“Surprise! I missed you, Hima.”

“I miss you too, Daddy. When will you come home?”

Himawari’s soft voice tugged at his heart. It was clear that Himawari was the spitting image of her father—white hair, ocean-blue eyes, and a charming smile. But while Satoru was known for his goofy, easy-going personality, Himawari had inherited her mother's calm and responsible nature.

“Let’s go home now, and we can spend the whole evening together!” He kissed her cheek, earning a nod of excitement.

-

In the cozy living room, sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the scattered toys on the floor as Himawari showcased her new block set. She was determined to build a castle.

“Is this game really meant for kids your age? It seems complex,” Satoru mused.

“It’s easy! I’m almost done!”

“I’m very proud of you, Hima.”

He noticed some tiny action figures lying around—representing a man, a woman, and a little girl.

“Are these going to live in your kingdom?”

“Maybe. They were supposed to be a happy family.”

This pierced Satoru’s heart. His daughter was suffering from their separation, and he hated that she had to endure this pain.

“Those three can be a happy family and live in the castle together, forever,” he reassured her, but the pain in his head surged.

Exhausted, he laid back on the couch, hoping to rest his weary Six Eyes. When was this headache planning to go away?

---

“Daddy… I’m done with the castle! Now the family can live here happily forever!”

When Himawari noticed her father had fallen asleep, she approached him and gently patted his cheek.

His skin felt warm. Remembering what her mother had taught her, she checked his forehead and realized he was running a fever.

---

“I’m home,” you announced as you entered the house. “Hima-chan? Satoru?”

Seeing your ex-husband asleep on the couch, a cloth on his forehead and Himawari beside him, panic surged through you.

“What happened, Hima? Is everything alright?”

“Mommy… Daddy’s head felt hot, so just like you put a cloth on mine when I’m sick, I tried to help him too…” Your daughter’s voice wavered with worry.

You comforted her, “It’s alright, baby. You did well. Just make sure to wet the cloth next time.”

As you touched Satoru’s forehead, a wave of familiar emotions crashed over you, but you pushed them aside. You had to focus on him. Just as you were about to get up, his phone rang.

“Shoko☠️😜 is calling.”

Thinking it was just Shoko, you answered.

“Hello, Shoko? It’s me, Y/n.”

“Huh? Y/n? Is Satoru at your place? How did you get his phone?”

“Yes, he came over while I was at work, but he fell asleep and has a fever.”

“What? Gojo never gets a fever! I told him to stop taking on so many missions!”

“Has he been working more?”

“He’s been overdoing it. He joked that he thought doing more missions would kill time now that he’s alone. I warned him that overusing those Six Eyes drains his energy.”

You felt sick with worry.

“Y/n, I have an urgent body to deal with. Take care of him and keep him there for a few hours. He needs to rest. I’ll talk to Yaga-sensei.”

You were left feeling nauseous. If you could no longer give him affection, at least you could offer medicine and sympathy.

---

Before you knew it, it was midnight. After making dinner, feeding Himawari, and constantly checking on Satoru, you settled next to him. It had been five hours since he had run a fever, and it showed no signs of letting up. You covered him with another blanket and grasped his hand, feeling it shake.

He instinctively intertwined his fingers with yours, holding you gently. Tossing and turning, it seemed he was waking.

“Y/n...? What is…” He struggled to form words, his weakness evident.

“Rest for now, Satoru. We’ll talk later.”

And so, you let him sleep through the night.

---

In the morning, you found Satoru sitting on the couch, hands buried in his hair, looking disoriented.

“I assume your headache is gone now…?” you asked.

“How did you—”

“Whenever you overuse those pretty eyes of yours, your head hurts. But never did I imagine you’d work so much you’d get a fever. Care to explain?”

“I… I’m fin—” 

“Before you lie, I just want the truth. Why did you leave? No explanation, no reason. Did all those years mean nothing to you? Didn’t you care about me?”

He buried his face in his hands, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

“I miss you. A lot. I can’t stop thinking about you and Hima. It hurts. I thought if I worked more, I could distract myself and make time for her, but…”

“But what?”

“They said they would kill you both if I didn’t abandon you. The higher-ups knew how much I let things go my way because of my power, but they started blackmailing me.”

You were speechless. The weight of his struggles crashed over you like a tidal wave.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, and you sensed his eyes threatening to spill as well. 

Without saying a word, you wrapped him in a tight embrace, needing this moment just as much as he did.

From now on, you’d face everything together.

---

Meanwhile, Himawari woke up, sensing the usual morning bustle was replaced by quiet. She crept downstairs, hoping to find her mom and dad. Peeking into the living room, she saw the two figures asleep on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Not wanting to disturb them, she quietly retreated upstairs, a small smile gracing her lips.

---

And thattttt concludes my life's very first fanfic//oneshot!

so basically, a summary (incase someone's confused) (trust me even idk how i wrote this thing a year ago)

satoru lived a happy life with y/n, and had himawari too, but the higher ups were like 'this guy's only possible weakness is his family' so they decided to blackmail him into doing stuff their way or else they'd harm his two girls. so he reluctantly did so, making him act all tense and anxious. soon they told him to leave y'all forever if he wanted y'all to be safe. he is extremely heartbroken and hates himself a lot, and all that, and reluctantly leaves you. then to cope with it he starts overworking, while on the other hand you think that satoru is too selfish and prioritizes his jujutsu powers over his family, and thinks he left you because he was annoyed by your interference in his life. you start to feel a sense of betrayal. but this mess is cleared up as stated above so yeahh. i left it incomplete towards the end, to leave their complete reconciliation over your imagination. man i love open ended stuff. 

anyways yeah. 

X-X

p.s. :- 

(i'll also release the raw first draft I first wrote about a year ago but never released. the one above is just the older and more mature me correcting my errors. maybe you can get the full raw emotion from the me who was totally unaware of what was gonna come in this crazy year ahead. and the me who was 101% down bad for gojo satoru back then, not that i still ain't.)

edit: link to draft = link to draft :-)

if you made it this far i am proud of you to survive.

[youremyheaven]

Ketu: Detachment & Connection

I thought I would expand more on the nature of Ketu in this post. Although both Rahu and Ketu are shadow planets (they are the north and south node of the moon) they experience this darkness very differently. Rahu seeks intense immersion in their experiences and seeks to absorb as much of their material realm (Rahu is the head) but Ketu is disconnected from this completely (Ketu being the headless torso) and even if they want to, they cannot immerse themselves in the material realm, they find it disorienting or simply feel disconnected from it all. Its meaningless to them.

The Ketu nakshatras are Ashwini, Magha & Mula

Ketu is in the darkness and to be Ketuvian is to be in a tunnel perpetually seeking the light. It can be a very uneasy energy to inhabit if imbalanced but this is why spirituality is so important to Ketu natives, they have to cultivate spiritual discipline if they are to peacefully embody this energy and find clarity in its detachment. Most people struggle with overattachment, so having this Ketuvian energy is a great starting point since you're already detached but grounding is very important as there is such a thing as being too detached or uncaring.

The Ketuvian struggle for connection reminds me of certain 8h themes and I think 8housers and Ketuvians have a lot in common in that regard. You need to have an intense kind of connection to feel anything at all, everything else feels kind of mild to your senses. Only intensity can wake you up and make you feel "awake" or "aware" as Ketuvians are sort of in this passive detached state otherwise.

I noticed many of these themes in Jungkook's solo songs. He is a Magha Moon and Mula Rising (he has such a puppy energy, it must be Mula's dog yoni hehe)

I had mentioned in one of my previous posts that being heavily tatted (a full sleeve of tattoos or just being covered in tattoos) is a very Nodal thing to do because they're plunged in shadows and making a mark spiritually helps them feel more connected or because they have to indulge in the extremes of anything for it to feel impactful.

Jungkook has a song called "Still With You" released in 2020, widely considered a love letter to army. These are the English translation of some of its lyrics that I found correlating to his Ketuvian energy

"That faint voice of yours that grazed me Please call my name one more time I'm standing under the frozen light, but I'll walk step by step towards you Still with you

With no light in the darkroom I shouldn't get used to it But I'm used to it again The low-pitched sound of this air conditioner If I don't have this, I will fall apart We laugh together, we cry together I guess these simple feelings were everything to me"

Fame can be a very intoxicating and addictive experience for Nodal natives. Since they feel very disconnected otherwise, they experience connection when it is pouring in such a large or vast scale. But this sort of dependence on fame and fans can also be destabilising and unhealthy because you never know when it might all go away. Since fame is so fickle, its dangerous to rely on it to feel "connected". This is why soooo many Nodal natives who are celebrities are sooo often self-destructive. You keep chasing that high and you'll never feel satisfied, you can never fill the vacuum you have and the harder you try, the more empty you feel.

I don't say any of this to be discouraging, im only trying to point out the emotional expectations we place upon certain experiences and even relationships and how it turns toxic and unhealthy when we do that. If we were to use another person to feel connected or tethered to the world, whilst it may work for us, they must feel very drained by being our anchor.

Jungkook has another demo called Decalcomania and the lyrics go like this:

When I see you smile in the screen You're good at everything You're just perfect Feels like I've never been you

Do you even see me? Do you know who I am? Or how do I look now? You don't like me like that

Come and tell me so much, you beautiful heart Oh, I'm gonna listen to you Please

All the numbers too big Can't get out of your game Oh, I want to paint it like you Please

I want to be your decalcomania I want you I want to be your decalcomania I want I want you

He is singing about himself and how he feels dissociated from himself. Fame can be a very dissociative experience for Ketu natives as their search for connection means they feel even more disconnected from the person they become to achieve this connection. Decalcomania refers to the process by which engravings are transferred to another surface (paper, pottery etc). It ties back to Ketu's need to be marked upon, they need something to make an impression on them, literally, because otherwise it does not feel real to them. Jungkook is asking himself to transfer the person he sees on screen to himself, so that he can embody the lightness and joy he sees on him.

Jungkook has another solo song called My Time in which he sings:

"24, feels like I became a grown-up faster than everyone else My life has been a movie, all the time I ran to where the sun rises every single night It's like I've been to someone's tomorrow The boy who found the world too big Keep on runnin' errday, pick the mic up Friends ridin' subway, I'll be in the aeroplane mode All over the world rock on, I made my own lotto But is it too fast? There are traces of losses Don't know what to do with, am I livin' this right? Why am I alone in a different time and space?"

Nodal natives (both Rahu & Ketu) regardless of whether they're child stars or not, have to grow up faster than others. This again makes them feel very disconnected from kids their age, you feel vv lonely.

Oh, I think I was in yesterday 'Cause everybody walk too fast I'm a little kid grown up not knowing it (Like a child who got lost) This got me oh just trippin’ It feels I'm roaming over Don't know what to do with, am I livin' this right? Why am I alone in a different time and space?

It feels confusing and disorienting to live a life that others cant relate to you. Immense wealth and fame can make you feel this way but Ketuvians feel this way in general. They look around them and they feel lost like everybody else is moving too fast.

"Sometimes when I'm gasping for air I wear my hat low and keep running Yeah, I don't gotta know where I go Even if it's opposite of sun One time for the present Two time for the past Happy that we met each other Now 'til the very end"

He's expressing his gratitude for everything even though it feels so alienating and confusing.

There is another song called Stay Alive in which he sings:

"그림잔 커져가지만 Although my shadow grows larger,

괜찮아 너란 큰 빛 덕분이니 It’s okay because it’s thanks to the great light that is you"

This is such a sincere explanation of what its like to be a Ketuvian in the limelight, he's thankful for having such a vast fanbase, the source of his "light" (remember that Ketu is in darkness and is always seeking light) but chasing this light means having to morph into somebody else/feeling disconnected from yourself which he succinctly expresses through the line "my shadow grows larger". Since Ketu is in perpetual darkness and is a shadow planet, it does not confront its shadow on its own. Its the seeking, the constant chasing for the light which they need that brings them to see their shadow.

Perhaps you feel very void and disconnected in general but you have a friend or a partner who makes you feel very tethered, through them you absorb their light but this also means you learn to look at yourself more clearly (Ketuvians are blind to their own nature) and this can be a very disconcerting and difficult experience if you've seldom ever felt "seen".

Emma Watson, Ashwini Sun, Mula Moon

I remember reading this interview in like 2010 where she said that whilst doing red carpets for the last Harry Potter movies she would have these moments where she looked into the mirror and felt very disconnected from the person she saw.

She subsequently turned to yoga and meditation and is even a certified yoga instructor. She has also mentioned going on silent retreats.

Ketu natives truly find balance in their lives when they cultivate a spiritual practice and devote themselves to it. Emma has largely stayed out of the limelight in the last decade or so and will probably continue to do so, this is very Ketuvian again, these natives find social interactions, especially the kind of intensive press tour celebrity life to be very draining, they need to retreat and do things in a way that is "real" to them. Emma has spoken about taking a break from acting and working behind the scenes.

Jungkook deleted his IG despite having 40+ million followers and like most Ketu natives he is very private and has no social media. It does not feel natural or real to them.

In her British Vogue interview, Emma said,

"...Her characters have felt, at times, “much realer” than she was. “I’m just so glad that I did [step away from acting] because I have this feeling of having my own voice and creative space and sovereignty in some way that I don’t think I did before".

This time has allowed Watson to concentrate on her “inner scorecard” (how you feel about yourself on the inside), versus her “outer scorecard” (your outward success, as seen on social media, for example). “I get a front row seat [with] some of the most successful, beautiful, incredible people in the world,” she says of Hollywood’s inner sanctum. “And when you have that seat it becomes very, very clear that there is just absolutely no level of success that will make you in any way happy or content if you do not like who you are or enjoy what you’re doing when no one’s watching.”

All of this feels like evolved, balanced and mature Ketu energy.

Miranda Kerr, Ashwini Sun

She is another person who I've always thought embodies a very healthy and evolved Ketuvian energy

Here's an excerpt from her interview:

“First, I try to do a little meditation and yoga, depending on how I feel. I've been meditating since I was 18. I've learnt Transcendental Meditation and Kriya Yoga Meditation, but sometimes I'm just too much in my head and so I need to put on an app. I use Insight Timer, which has different guided meditations, from a five- or 10-minute meditation or deeper ones which help if I can't sleep.

“Gratitude puts everything into perspective. The way that we speak to ourselves is really important, and to be aware to pull yourself up if you’re being self-critical and try and look at things in a positive way. For example, we can look outside and say, ‘oh my goodness, I can't believe it's raining’, or we can look outside and go, ‘well, it's cosy when it rains, I'd love to be inside and I get to wear my favourite scarf’ – we can switch our whole perspective on so many things. For me, waking up in the morning and thinking of at least three things I’m grateful for is so important. Just simple things like, ‘I’m grateful that we have fresh running water’.”

Salma Hayek, Magha Rising

Salma has been practising meditation and yoga for decades and has said: “It’s actually feeling the energy,” she said. “It moves and it dances inside of you, different sensations and emotions. So I use a lot of the frequency machines.”

Hayek claimed that her meditation works wonders for her appearance. “Sometimes when I’m doing it, people tell me when I come out of the room, ‘Oh my god. You look 20 again,'" she said.

She also warned that if she stopped meditating, her face would suffer. “When I don’t do it for a while, guess what?” she said. “The face starts to drop and everything starts to drop.”

Spirituality comes easier for women than men imo and Ketuvian women are more likely to buy into all things spiritual like crystal cleansing, chakra reading and even other offbeat spiritual techniques.

Gigi Hadid, Ashwini Sun & Rising

Gigi is another person who embodies really healthy Ketuvian energy

In her interviews, she always sounds very grounded and tethered. She said:

"I got pregnant and I really started to think about what I wanted after, when the world opened back up. (she got pregnant during covid) It kept coming back to just a more stabilized schedule where I’m not in a different country every week. This is very stabilizing. I have an office that I come to. I know everyone here. I don’t have to look a certain way to show up. It’s a different experience for me, and it was the right time because I was ready for that,” 

To realize what is causing you to feel unstable and deliberately manoeuvre your life to create that stability requires self-awareness and maturity.

Arnold Schwarzenegger, Mula Moon

He has talked about how bodybuilding and building his physique really helped him feel connected to himself in a different way. I think this is an interesting manifestation of Ketu's disconnection and need to go to extremes to feel anything. Arnold's workout routine from his Mr World days is pretty insane, he worked harder than anybody else and was single-mindedly focused on it. Pushing yourself to such extremes and committing to it is difficult but those Ketuvians who can do so will benefit from it immensely.

Ketu is detached from the material realm. For a Ketu native that isn't tuned into their spiritual side, this can mean feeling disconnected in general but the blessings of retreating to spirituality, slowness, stillness etc means shifting to a version of life where you feel anchored within yourself without depending on anybody or anything to feel that way.

All of the people I mentioned above turned away from the spotlight or made choices to make their lives more grounded and stable and as a result they feel content and satiated. They are detached from the material realm but firmly tethered to the things that matter to them.

I just wanted to make a brief post about how Ketuvians embrace their shadows and how spirituality anchors them.

I hope this was insightful.

[feyhunter78]

Final Chapter - You have wed and the guest have gone, but the Dragon Queen has stayed. Perhaps it is time to visit Dorne.

NSFW content below the cut

The Dragon Queen remains a guest of The Rock, moons after the other attendees have returned home. It is not unpleasant, but you find yourself on edge around her. She has been nothing but polite, kind even but Jon’s words ring in your head. How many times will he be asked to break his oath? How many times can House Lannister change sides until they are no longer trusted? King Stannis was stern yes, and dour, but he was not cruel, not like Joffrey or the stories you heard of the Mad King.

And Jon, gods above Jon distrusts her all the more. For it was her brother that stole his mother away, her father who burned his uncle and grandsire alive. He is polite as well, but avoids her. It is subtle, mostly, though there are times Jon will simply leave a room when Daenerys enters, Ghost trotting behind him. This leaves you torn between staying to make excuses on his behalf, or fleeing as well to soothe Jon’s storm of emotions.

You have yet to see the dragons, yet to hear them, and you are quite sure you would rather it stays that way, the tales you have been regaled with are terrifying enough. Though your father, who had loved dragons since he was a child, swore to you, they were in the vicinity, camped out on an island nearby. They could stay there, their mother could join them, you wanted no part in this, not when you had finally gotten all you desired.

You find Jon hunched over his writing desk, quill in hand, inkwell closed, the parchment blank before him. He has done this many times, and you are never quite sure what or who he is intending to write.

“You know, usually one must first wet the quill before attempting to write.” You say, as you lean against the desk, and remove the inkwell’s stopper.

He sets down his quill and sighs, pushing his chair away from the desk, his head falling back, his neck extended and exposed. “I was not truly going to write anything, I simply…” He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair.

“I know this has been difficult for you, perhaps we should visit your father in Starfell, put some distance between us and whatever fresh torture is brewing amongst the lords?” You suggest, replacing the stopper and putting away his quill.

Jon grabs your hand and brings it to his lips, his grown-out stubble tickles your skin. “Could we even do that? Would it be right?”

You slide between him and the desk to seat yourself in his lap, looping your arms around his neck. “What is right can be subjective at times.”

He gives you a confused look, his handsome face tanned from his time in the sun, his curls luxurious and scented with oils from Dorne. His broad chest well-fitted in fabrics you purposely did not tell him the price of, because you knew he would refuse to wear them on principle. He has thrived at The Rock, and satisfaction purrs within you at the sight.

“In the eyes of the realm it would not be right, you and I, together before your parentage was revealed, but it was right to us—or at least to me, I know you struggled with the idea.”

Jon’s hands settle on your waist as he listens intently, always so intently.

“If we had done what the realm thought was right, you and I would not be, and I cannot fathom a world where you and I apart is correct. So maybe it is wrong to leave, maybe it is not, all I care about is if I am with you, wrong or right.”

He kisses you gently, a brief fleeting thing, but no less filled with affection than his searing, lingering ones. “We could go, for a while, not too long, just a visit.”

You return the kiss, hands cradling his face, lifting it up towards you. “Not too long, not too short, we shall stay as long as you desire, Husband.”

He hums contentedly, pulling you closer, his lips against yours a slow languid movement, sweet and unhurried, caresses of unspoken affection and whispered promises.

Your head spins when you pull away for air, and Jon’s lips chase after yours, aching to recapture them as his hands begin to ghost over your sides, fingertips counting each inhale and exhale.

“Promise me we will do this in Starfell.” He says, his chest rising and falling as he catches his own breath.

“We shall do this and more if it pleases you.” You promise him, heart skipping a beat when his eyes darken.

A wolfish smile appears on his kiss swollen lips. “Aye, it would.”

Your back is cushioned by a mountain of pillows, all swathed in fabrics of red and orange, a golden stringed tassel caught in your grip as you dig your nails into a nearby pillow, desperately taking in air. “Jon, oh gods—”

He does not respond, his dark curls, his shoulders and strong arms are the only parts of him you can see. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you open and still, unable to squirm away as he devours you. His wondrous mouth on you, his tongue making you see stars, his fingers digging into your skin so tight you know there will be bruises, but you care not.

He nips at your inner thigh before wrapping his lips around your bud, his tongue moving in some nonsensical way that sends a bolt of lightning through you. Sparks of lust flying from your skin, a desperate yearning building within you again.

The sun is still high in the sky, streaming in through the large window, the scent of Orange Blossoms drifting on the breeze, accented voices and hurried footsteps come from below, but you pay no mind, and neither does Jon. His movements are unhurried, indulgent, groans of pleasure vibrating against your folds.

He is bare from the waist up, shoulders and back are marred with nail marks, your nail marks, reddened lines and half-moons. You tangle your free hand in his hair, yanking him impossibly closer, urging him to move faster, to release one of your thighs and coax your second release forward with his skilled fingers.

“So impatient.” He chuckles, lifting his head, his lips shiny with your arousal, as he does just what you desired, two long fingers slipping in with ease, stroking and curling until pleasure seizes you, driving all thought from your mind.

You whine in response, tugging harder on his curls. A flicker of pride going through you at the way Jon’s hips roll against the bed, a groan escaping him.

Jon returns to your core, tip of his tongue tracing shapes and symbols on your bud as his fingers coax you higher and higher. He slips in a third, and your walls clench around him, your breath catching in your throat.

Gods you want him to ravish you, to tear your flimsy Dornish gown from your body and pound into you until there is an imprint of your body in the pillows.

Then you shatter, coming undone into his strong grip, breathless and shaking, as you push up on your elbows to see Jon still desperate. His eyes meeting yours as he ruts against the bed, his head dropping forward, his forehead resting against your thigh, panting heavily as he finishes.

You lay there spent as he joins you on the bed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “We have dinner with my father soon.”

“I am sure he does not mind waiting.” You smile, pulling him back in with a leg hooked around his hips.

A cry from the chamber next to yours sends you both sitting up in bed, the night dark, the moon a mere sliver amongst the clouds.

You arise first, wrapping a robe around yourself and trudging sleepily into the nursery. Lyon, your son, with his thick dark curls and vibrant green eyes, is wide awake, kicking up a fuss in his bassinet. Leaning down, you scoop him up, and hold him close to your chest, shushing him gently.

Jon joins you soon, wrapping his arms around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder. “He is surely a lion with a cry like that.”

“I think he is more a wolf with all his howling.” You jest softly, stroking Lyon’s cheek.

He is beautiful, a perfect mixture of you and Jon, born in Starfell, while a third revolt took place in the rest of the kingdoms. Daenerys sat on the throne, your father, her hand. She had sent gifts, your father had come himself with them and dozens of his own gifts, with the contingency that you would receive the rest upon your return home. You would go soon, take your place within The Rock. To ensure your son would be as fine a Lannister as any could be, to begin to seek out an advantageous bride for him, and give him a sibling or three to play with. But for now, the realm could wait.

Jon TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain, @rebeccawinters, @taylorsfemalerage, @rax-raxus, @certainwonderlandperfection, @nymeriiiia, @burkgolden, @drewsivy

[sleepymccoy]

Two thirds of a whole

“Your report indicated that you spent some time with the other Spock.”

“He was a strange man to meet,” McCoy muttered, sinking into a chair hesitantly.

“Tell me about him,” Spock invited, filling their glasses.

McCoy leant on the table and raised a hand. “Now, I don't want to sound egotistical, but the only change I know of was my not being on the Enterprise.”

“It is not egotistical to report your observations.”

McCoy smiled. “You might be wanting to take that back shortly, we'll see if I let you.”

Spock's gaze flashed to him. A strange expression passed his face, softer than most Spock let through when he was in control of himself, then he seemed to make a decision and looked at McCoy squarely. “Tell me,” he repeated.

“Well, he was lonely,” McCoy said simply. “He and their Jim weren't friendly. You- they weren't arguing or any sort, just not friendly. Jim was thinner too, more professional and detached. Broke my heart a bit. He did too.”

“He being the other Spock,” Spock clarified.

“Yeah.” McCoy pulled the water glass over and pressed it against his bourbon glass, feeling the grating tension of glass on glass in his fingers. “Didn't get along a lick with anyone on board. Didn't offer comments or defend his opinions beyond the bare minimum. He just worked, then went to his room and stayed there.”

“He sounds like a better Vulcan than I.”

McCoy glared at Spock. “You're the better man,” he shot back. Then, before Spock could disagree on principle, he continued. “He was sad, Spock, miserable and lonely! The way he latched onto me at the end there, you…” he sighed. “Ah, I dunno.”

Spock's eyebrow raise was enough of a response to keep McCoy talking.

“I don't know,” McCoy said carefully, “what he was getting out of me that no one else gives. I'd like to understand.”

“You are asking what benefit I find in knowing you?”

McCoy grit his teeth. “I suppose.” He drank. “You’re allowed to kick me out.”

Spock crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. “It is a simple enough answer,” he said. “You are the antithesis of Vulcan logic. You exemplify the most challenging type of human interaction I could have - that is, one whose argument is based in emotion and unmoving. But you explain yourself well, and have improved my comprehension of the convoluted decision making processes humans take.”

“Huh,” McCoy said. He drank.

“Additionally- ”

“There's more?”

Spock ignored him. “- you take time to point out when I am culturally insensitive. Many simply take offense, but you communicate it. Often, you communicate it excessively. Perhaps this other Spock lacked your early tutelage and suffered for it. Although, I must add, Vulcan intimacy is far more impersonal than human and perhaps he is pleased with his relationships on board. Knowing no other.”

“He kissed me like he was dying.”

Spock's hand lurched, knocking against his water glass. It didn't tip over, they had broad bases in case of turbulance, but it shook from the impact.

McCoy went quiet and drank his bourbon.

“Where did he kiss you?” Spock asked at a whisper.

McCoy looked at the table top. Real wood, Spock was more of a sensualist than he admitted. “On the mouth, Spock, how dirty d'you think I am?”

“I mean- so, he kissed you in the human way?”

Spock's hands were balled into tight fists. His eyes were wide, his cheeks green. He was quite still.

“Yeah, I hadn't considered that,” McCoy said, trying with all his might to sound unaffected and like they were discussing lab results. He remembered the feeling of Spock’s fingers in his mouth. “He was good at it too, wonder where he learnt it.”

Spock waved his hand absently. Those fingers… “Before I met you,” he muttered. “Wait. You allowed it to continue long enough to tell? Were you willing?”

“I was surprised at first, but, Spock, there’s something about you- ”

Spock stood, his chair scraping back loudly.

“God, don't hit me,” McCoy muttered, “you're really strong.”

---

This fic is complete now! If you enjoyed the snippet you'll enjoy the rest of the shenanigans they get up to <3

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 74: Fitz's Metronome

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, body control, emotional abuse, torture, captivity, hypnosis

September 1905

With a cold, stiff hand resting just on top of his head, Fitz was marched out of the dank basement like a marionette. He couldn't even find relief from being done with Lex's torture -- for now, at least -- because he was drowning in terror at his own fate, wondering if he'd ever control his own body again.

The Maestro had carried the weak lantern with him, so that Fitz could see a bit of the manor surrounding him. The oppressive patterns of the wallpaper, the dark wood door frames with their yawning openings, the intricately carved wooden furniture, all of it seemed to swallow what little light there was. The main floor of the manor was less obviously a prison than the basement where Lex had been chained, but it was a prison nonetheless.

Was this where he'd spend the rest of his days, in the dark, cold gloom? Would he die here?

His new master led Fitz into a room which seemed slightly more welcoming than the others. It was a music room, and what he could see was filled with antique instruments in perfect condition. Polished horns sat in neat brackets on the walls, violins and other stringed instruments rested in their stands, and an antique piano occupied the center of the room.

Fitz's body came to a stop in the middle of the room, standing as still as a statue, with Fitz hardly even able to blink. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Maestro pull a measuring tape from his pocket. He measured the circumference of Fitz's chest and stomach, the lengths of his legs and arms, the length and width of his feet, and more, while Fitz's automatically body shifted to accommodate the measurements.

It reminded Fitz of the last time he'd been measured so thoroughly, that night in the auction house where he'd first met Lex. He'd been scared out of hits wits then, too, but he'd also had hope, hope that his charm and charisma and ability to look great in a red velvet ballgown would earn him a permissive master. Fitz couldn't muster up any such hope now. There would be no softening of Lex's sire, no manipulation to earn privileges, not when he wasn't even allowed to speak.

The Maestro sat down at a nearby desk, leaving Fitz standing stiff as a board in the middle of the room. He dipped a pen in ink and wrote out a note, then rang a small brass bell. A moment later, a tired-looking older man in a modest black suit appeared at the door.

"Fetch clothes appropriate for these measurements. I have another new thrall this evening."

His eyes flicked over to Fitz very, very briefly. "Yes, sir," he said, exiting the room as swiftly as he appeared.

Another new thrall? Fitz wondered how many he had. But he didn't have much time to wonder, because the Maestro stood before Fitz again, running an icy hand below his chin and tilting his head up to meet his eyes.

His eyes were as deep as the ocean and as dark as a moonless night, and Fitz couldn't look away from them, even as he felt their pull. He was being enthralled. His new master wasn't simply content with controlling every movement of Fitz's body. He was trying to control Fitz's mind too. Fitz could feel himself scrabbling for purchase, trying to keep his grip on his thoughts even as they began to slip from his grasp.

"That's it, child," he said in that dreadfully melodic voice. "You will look deeply into my eyes, and you will lose yourself. Your mind, your body, and your will are all mine, to do with as I must."

He slipped. He was falling, falling, falling down a pitch-black well that seemed to go on for miles and miles. His thoughts began to empty as he sank further into a daze, unable to resist the thick blanket of control that was smothering him.

"Fitzwilliam de Hastings. Third son of the de Hastings family and an abject disappointment in every conceivable way. Am I correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Despite that unfortunate history, you may be excellent raw material." A porcelain thumb stroked Fitz's cheek just below his eye. "Your parents didn't have the strength, the knowledge, or the time to mold you into anything better than this pathetic creature, did they? Despite having little understanding of humans, I can be certain that they did not love nor care for you. If they had cared for you, they wouldn't have left your talents and better qualities to rot and spoil."

Fitz was sinking so deeply under his spell that he couldn't muster even an internal denial to any of this. No, his parents most certainly didn't care for him. They probably thought it was just as well that Fitz was gone, if they even gave it any thought.. His heart ached with the jealousy he'd felt each time his father praised his golden older brother, praise that Fitz would never hear himself.

"If someone had cared about you, they would have corrected your personality."

No, that wasn't right, couldn't have been right. Correcting Fitz was all his father ever did, and he knew that his father hadn't cared about him, would've just as soon not had a useless third son.

"Make no mistake, child, I certainly don't care for you either. I would be incapable of such a thing, even if you did deserve such tender treatment," said the Maestro, pulling Fitz in slightly closer. "I don't care for you, but I have time. All the time in the world, and some dim flicker of curiosity. Curiosity to see if I can mold something like you into something perfect. That is why I am prepared to do you a great mercy."

"Mercy…" Fitz's voice came out as a pleading whine.

"Yes, a mercy. I will be the one to correct your vile personality. Despite your deficiencies, I think you understand that it has brought you nothing but suffering. A lifetime of poor choices and waste."

Fitz wanted to deny it, but it was his choices that brought him here, wasn't it? If he hadn't pursued the stage, if he hadn't taken Miss Lily's bet, if he hadn't charmed Lex…

His master suddenly broke his gaze and released Fitz, who was still falling, lost in his spell. The servant from earlier had arrived silently, and handed the Maestro a set of neatly folded clothes with a deep bow. The Maestro looked over the clothes and nodded at the servant, who exited the room with an unnaturally rhythmic gait.

Fitz knew that would be him, a puppet on strings, fit only to serve, and the cruel voice in his head whispered that maybe it was all he was good for.

The Maestro turned back to Fitz and began unbuttoning his shirt, one button after the next. His chest was exposed to the cold, damp air of the manor, but under his master's power, he could hardly even shiver. There was nothing he could do to resist as one leg lifted, and then the other, allowing the Maestro to remove his shoes and socks, followed by his pants.

As his clothing was removed and set aside, Fitz was reminded that he was wearing his stage magician's costume. He'd had a performance just earlier tonight, his last. It already seemed like ages had passed since them.

And then he was standing utterly nude before his new master, body fully controlled and mind ensorcelled, with no protection and nowhere to hide.

Fortunately, the Maestro didn't seem to care for Fitz's nude body. He wasted no time dressing Fitz in the clothing the servant had brought. The drab suit was scratchy and uncomfortable, and it was such a small thing, but Fitz couldn't help but despair at it. A lifetime in uncomfortable, stuffy clothes.

Once Fitz was dressed, the Maestro examined him this way and that, pinching at the cloth here and drawing it upwards there. "This will require some tailoring, but that can be handled later. It's an improvement for now." He tossed Fitz's old clothes to the side like rags and rang the bell once more. The servant arrived to collect them, and then the only possessions Fitz had left were gone.

The Maestro gestured to the piano, and Fitz's body moved to sit on the bench. He was going to have to play, and Fitz already knew his meager skills and repertoire of popular ragtime tunes wouldn't satisfy his master. There was a metronome with a shining brass arm sitting on the top of the piano, a surprisingly modern touch.

His master reached past Fitz's shoulder and started the metronome in a slow rhythm, and Fitz couldn't help but watch it and listen to its tock-tock-tock. His fogged mind wondered when the Maestro would make him start playing, but as the minutes dragged on, he realized that he wasn't going to play. No, all he could do was sit there and watch the metronome.

Almost experimentally, he tried to turn his eyes away, and found that he could not. His master had taken hold of his very eyes, keeping them glued tightly to the metronome's arm. Now he was aware of the way his eyes were being forced to follow, and he couldn't help but try to resist it, with a spike of panic. Resisting it was like walking through a wall, or struggling against thick chains, and it only made his pupils jitter strangely, the metronome's arm going briefly out of focus.

"You will allow the rhythm to enter your head," said the melodic voice near his ear. "You will allow it to govern your thoughts, your movements. You will allow your own thoughts to fade."

Fitz could feel it, the way his thoughts were slowing and swirling in time with the metronome, the way his emotions were growing dim. He dug in, determined to stubbornly fight it as long as possible. Even if it was futile, he didn't want to go out easily.

"Everything you are, everything that is not me will fade away. You cannot fight this. You will not fight this. You are weak and you know that you will slip."

He tried to pull whatever happy memories he had from the recesses of his mind, one last moment of fun before the doom. Taking his bows to raucous applause. Laughing and drinking with fellow actors after a show. Bluffing his way to a poker jackpot.

"The only sound in your head is the rhythm. The only thoughts in your mind are mine."

tock - tock - tock

Dancing in the music room with Lex. Lex holding him while he fell asleep. The night he'd finally got up the courage to kiss him.

"The only desire left to you is servitude. You will submit."

No --

"You will submit. Blank. Empty. A doll on which to impose my will."

Lex wouldn't want him this way. Lex wanted him just the way he was.

But…

As Fitz was kissing Lex in his mind's eye, he saw that handsome face with a silver knife jammed into the eye, dark blood dripping from the wound in a rhythm like

tock - tock - tock

Fitz knew he wasn't worth it. Fitz could never have been worth all of that.

tock - tock - tock

"You will feel relief as you are washed clean. It is the only relief you will have for some time, so I suggest you savor it."

His mind swirled with the images of Lex's tormented body lying motionless on the basement floor.

tock - tock - tock

Relief. Yes, he wanted relief. He didn't want to see that any more.

"No more thoughts. No more wants. No more needs. No more distractions or decisions. You are my doll to pose, to mold, to break. My empty vessel. You are better this way. Far, far better."

One more memory flashed into Fitz's rapidly fading mind. His father looming over him, so tall and so stern, and all Fitz wanted was to please him, but he never did. He grabbed Fitz's arm too tight. It hurt, and Fitz bit back tears. "Why can't you just do as you're told?"

He wanted to. He wanted to just do what he was told so badly, but he couldn't.

"Yes, Fitzwilliam," said his master. "You will never again have to despair at not doing what you're told. I will make you do what you are told, always. I will make you perfect."

Tears were dripping down his chin in the same rhythm as the metronome. "Thank you, sir."

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Next week, Vivian is on Alexander's trail.

Thanks so much for reading this story. The feedback I get always brightens my days.

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[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-Twenty Two

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: PHASE II comes to an end! Strap in everyone, PHASE III is going to be a smutty ride.

Tags: @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid @casangel1986 @qualityvoidcollectorsblog @myownthoughts12 @jilliemiw86 @bellaboo967 @halloweenaesthetic @collapsedglasshouses

NOAH

I let out a long sigh as I ran my hands over my thighs, the green couch becoming a familiar place for me. Even the dying plants on the shelf behind Dr. Poulos brought a sense of comfort. She had her book open on her lap, tapping her pen against it. 

Three times.

She always tapped it three times. 

“You seem happier today Noah,” Dr. Poulos noted. 

I nodded. “I am. For the first time in a long time.” 

“That’s great,” she smiled warmly before she used her pen to point to her hair. “New look?” 

“Uh, it kind of happened. I didn’t expect to cut my hair, it’s been long for so many years now, but I felt with what happened I could use a change. But it still might be too long for my liking. I might cut it some more,” I said. 

“Hm, typically that’s a sign of some growth. What happened?”

For the next few minutes, I filled her in on almost everything that happened at Chase’s birthday party, leaving out the intimate details between Y/N and I. Although, with the way my cheeks burned red, I had a feeling Dr. Poulos already knew. 

I explained from top to bottom everything from the last time Y/N and I  spoke to the night she told me she loved me back. Even saying the term ‘I love you’ was a huge step on the mountain for me. But to have her say it back? I’m finally catching up on years of sleep. Y/N loves me. She fucking loves me back. 

“Do you believe her?” Dr. Poulos questioned. 

“I do! I do, I love her with all of me,” I answered with a stern nod. “I just don’t know how to stop worrying about Y/N leaving if shit gets messy or if I don’t live up to her expectations. There’s this perception of me out there and even so, I don’t want it to taint her or us.” 

She sat straighter in her chair. “Noah, you’re putting too much work on yourself. You really are. You’re both heavily aware of who you are as people. You’re human beings.”

Dr. Poulos adjusted her glasses and took some notes before speaking again when I remained silent.

“From everything you’ve explained; you both seem to be willing to start over. Start with a new slate, the situation at the party seemed to have changed the situation from both of your points of view. I have homework for you.”

I playfully rolled my eyes. “Oh, but you know I’m busy, I don’t have time to do homework. I haven’t done homework since I was 15.” 

“Not that type of homework,” she chuckled. “What I’m saying is now that we’ve set the foundation regarding perspective, energy, and intention, we can move on to what to actually say to Y/N about your unmet needs and your fears of emotional and maybe physical abandonment.”

She went into each definition thoroughly as I sat with my hands resting on my knee, listening intently.

“I wouldn’t go that far. Abandonment? That sounds silly and almost too serious. I don’t know about that,” I said once she finished. 

With a sigh, Dr. Poulos shut her book and set it on the table between us. “Noah, we’ve been seeing each other a while now. It’s my personal observation you indeed have conditions hindering you from this. It’s why you’re having a difficult time communicating and allowing this new slate to happen without fear.” 

To be frank, I didn’t want to hear the entire gist. All it did was give me flashbacks of things I wasn’t comfortable dealing with. At least I thought I wasn’t prepared to handle it, I suppose I was now. I knew I needed to have a prosperous and healthy life, as well as one with Y/N. 

“Noah? Noah, are you listening?”

I blinked a few times. “No, I’m sorry, can you repeat what you said?” 

“Every satisfied emotional need breeds connection and deepens your bond. Therefore, every unmet need has the opposite effect. It breeds disconnection. This happens because when your needs aren’t consistently met, it produces anxiety in you, which leads to conflict, which, if not handled skillfully, breeds further disconnection, and on and on. The cycle is never-ending.”

She spoke so softly, so calmly while I sat there with my hands in my lap so desperately trying to get into what she was saying to me.

To be blunt? This was a-fucking-lot.

Dr. Poulos tucked a strand of hair that fell loose from her bun to behind her ear. “Noah, you and Y/N must erase any confusion or doubt surrounding your needs. Learn to powerfully communicate your needs using a simple yet powerful template, and overcome the two most common barriers to having your needs consistently met.”

She handed me a piece of paper to which I took it from her hands and began to skim over it while she kept talking. 

“I offer suggestions for what to say, but they are merely suggestions. The goal is that you speak from your heart and express your truth with love and gentleness. I have a worksheet for you, review it. Think about it, and see what you can come up with. Practice in the mirror.”

On the drive leaving therapy, I thought back to my entire session with Dr. Poulos. It all seemed so silly, so corny. It did. However, I had to put my ego aside to let myself take in the seriousness of what was in front of me. I didn’t want anything to destroy my future with Y/N, hell even me just as a man. I had to do this.  

To realize I’m not powerless and finally take charge of creating the loving dynamic that I for so long struggled to have and keep.

Maybe this week away in the house Bad Omens rented would help clear my mind and I could practice this worksheet she gave me; when I wasn’t busy recording the new record. 

Instead of going straight home, I had to make a quick stop at Y/N’s place. As I knocked on their apartment door, I waited not so patiently with excitement in my veins. Malcolm opened the door with Salem in his arms.

I clapped my hands while stepping inside. “There he is!” 

Chase snorted from the living room as I took Salem from Malcolm. “Clearly, Salem will be fine while we’re gone.” 

“Y/N isn’t getting him back so easy, I hope she knows that,” I scratched Salem between his eyes; his favorite spot. 

“Oh, by the way,” Malcolm started while handing me the bag of Salem’s things. “I know you guys have a couple hour drive to your rental house but Salem hates the carrier. He’ll most likely move around the car before settling into someone’s lap.” 

“Have you guys thought about buying him a harness and leash?” I suggested. 

Chase sucked in a breath. “Do not tell Y/N that. She won’t even let Salem sit in front of an open window because she’s afraid he’ll jump out and run away.” 

“Speaking of Y/N,” I adjusted Salem in my arms. “Is she home?” 

“No, not yet. Do you want to stay and wait? See her before we leave?” Malcolm offered with a smile. 

I looked at my watch and internally cringed. The guys were waiting for me to get back from therapy before heading out towards our rental house a few hours away. 

“Shit, I would but I have to get back home. Plus, I don’t want to push her. I want this to happen naturally,” I said. 

Chase snorted, now standing next to Malcolm. “Yeah, okay.” 

“I’m serious,” I chuckled. 

“We know, dude. But, you could always-.” 

“I have to get back home,” I said, interrupting Malcolm. “But I’ll text Y/N later.” 

“Okay,” Chase says in a sing-song voice, belting out the last few words. “Whatever you say.” 

I cringed, covering Salem’s ears. “Wow, almost as good as me. Except, my ear drums are probably fucked now.” 

“Oh fuck you, Mr. Steve Perry meets Cher. I can sing,” he held his hands up. 

“No, you can’t, love” Malcom left a kiss on Chase’s cheek. 

He looked between us with a wild expression. “WOW! Taking his side!?” 

“Well!,” I adjusted Salem and the bag. “That’s my queue to leave.”

“Figures, thank you for taking care of your new cat,” Chase said.  

“My new cat?”

“Salem Sebastian L/N, that’s pretty much his name now,” Malcolm said while throwing his auburn-colored hair up into a messy bun.  

I hastily shook my head. “We haven’t even labeled it yet.” 

Chase and Malcolm shared a look before the former spoke. “Oh no, we’re not doing this again. You and Y/N are two peas in a pod, and I know how badly you both want to be in that pod.” 

“Especially with that new haircut,” Malcolm nodded towards my short hair. 

“Okay, I’m leaving,” I bid them goodbye with a nod and turned on my heels, stepping through the door. 

“Bye Salem’s dad! Talk to you later,” Chase called after me. 

On the drive back home, Salem was perched in my lap with his front paws resting on the door, his wondrous eyes taking in every sight I drove past. 

“You know,” my voice broke the silence. “I guess your uncle isn’t exactly wrong, Salem. I mean, I could be your dad. Do you want me to be your dad? I think you do.”

He then positioned himself so he could curl up in my lap, his soft purrs vibrating against me. 

NOAH

“Are you guys ok with steaks tonight?” Jolly asked from the kitchen. 

Matt, who sat next to me on the couch, nodded eagerly. “We’ve eaten like shit the last two days. A nice home-cooked meal sounds delicious, thanks, honey.” 

Jolly flipped him off with a smile before going back to getting things set up for dinner. 

Nicholas and Folio were talking amongst themselves on the couch next to the one I sat on, but the conversations fell on deaf ears as I continuously scrolled through my phone. The last two days, we’d been locked away in the rental house recording the new album and now, we were taking a much-needed break tonight, opting to grill out and have a bonfire; Jesse and Michael joined us earlier today. 

The guys and I have been talking about this for a while now and after the incident right before we left to come up to the mountains, it was time for us to put this idea into motion. 

Also, the picture I saw on Y/N’s Instagram story minutes before had me set in stone with my decision. 

“We need a bigger house,” I blurted, nearly scaring Salem as he slept between Matt and me. 

Jolly nearly dropped the raw steaks while Jesse turned towards me from his spot at the kitchen table. 

“That’s random,” Michael said slowly while pausing his mixing at the laptop station. 

I shrugged. “We’ve been thinking of moving anyway because of the notes on the car incident and now with that fan showing up on our doorstep, I think it’s about time we move. Too many people know where we live.” 

My three roommates shared a glance before Jesse spoke next. “I mean, we have been browsing Zillow lately. A few have come up that we liked.” 

Jolly agreed with a nod. “I’ll send an email to the realtor who was working with us before. See if she can get us set up with some tours.” 

“Tomorrow,” I said. 

“Kind of last minute, don’t you think?” Nicholas asked. 

“We’re going to be busy for the next few months. I’d rather get this shit done and over with.” 

Matt, who was scrolling through his phone next to me, snorted quietly. “I’d suggest looking for hardwood floors or tile.”

I turned toward him while narrowing my eyes. “What?” 

“For the paint spills, it’s easier to clean,” he said while showing me his phone; Y/N’s Instagram post up on the screen. “Look at your face! You’re totally turning turnip fucking red!

With a bashful smile, I scratched my chin. “No, I’m not.” 

“Noah and Y/N sitting in a large tree because of Noah’s height! K. I. S. S. I. N. G!”

I shoved Matt. “Fuck off.” 

Then I turned back to my roommates. “We need a bigger space with seven bedrooms.” 

Jolly quirked a brow. “Seven?” 

“Uh,” I ran my hands over my thighs. “Y/N wants a studio for her art, her paintings. I want to make sure she has one.” 

Michael smiled. “Well that certainly is a grand gesture isn’t it?” 

“It’s something I want to do, man,” I defended. 

“I know, Noah. We’ll find a bigger place, it’ll all work out,” he reassured me. 

“I hope so.”

Jolly paused prepping dinner to send an email to our realtor, Jackie, as we all spent the rest of the night searching for different houses that would be perfect. All the while, Folio’s phone conversation rested on my ears. 

“I know those Mexican candies are your favorite, Michelle. Why do you think I sent you them?” Folio chuckled with a wide smile. 

“Noah,  it’s almost ten!” Nicholas called from the deck outside. 

The patio door was open, letting in the cool night air, and I was helping Jolly clean up the mess from dinner. Salem sat on the counter, every so often licking up the leftover food from the plates I was washing. 

“Shit,” I cursed, quickly drying my hands, and pulled out my phone. 

However, before I could send the nightly text to Y/N, one from her appeared. 

Angel 🪽: I love you, mochi. 

Jolly peered over my shoulder. “Oh, that’s adorable.” 

I playfully stuck out my tongue at him. “Someone is nosy.” 

My fingers worked fast to text Y/N back. 

Me: I love you too, angel.

Part of me didn’t want to stop talking to her yet so while leaning against the counter, I scrolled through the videos folder on my phone, selecting the one I took earlier today. It was when we finished mastering The Grey and I was feeling great about how it came out, confident that Y/N would love it so I recorded Salem as he slept during it. Before recording another video of me singing it. 

I sent her the first video I took; the one of Salem lying on the couch while The Grey played in the background. 

Angel 🪽: Hi Salem baby! Mom misses you! Also, I hear something in the background. Is it..?

I decided to mess with her and not come out right and say it was that song. The one that she gave Jolly the lyrics to. The one she thought was too dark for herself. 

Me: He’s napping. He had a long day of playing outside. 

I laughed out loud, knowing that her brows were raised to her forehead with this text. 

Angel 🪽: You took him outside?

“Do you think Mom is upset with me?” I asked the cat, who simply didn’t bother to care what I was showing him; he wanted the leftover mashed potatoes from Matt’s plate. 

Me: Don’t worry, angel. We had him on a harness and leash. He loved laying in the sun on the back patio.

Angel 🪽: I trust you with him, Noah. But what’s that playing in the background of your video?

With my finger hovering over the other video I took, I contemplated sending it. Was it too much? Was it not enough? Would she figure it out? I mean, it was partially her words- meaningful, important. I just added to them. Both of us pulled out the dark from each other. Adding it shirtless, was just another decision- a good, good decision. I wanted her clenching and biting her lip. 

Not bothering to overthink it any longer, I hit send.

Me: I can’t wait for you to hear the final version.

NOAH

Mother fucker. 

Piece of shit. 

Douchebag. 

I paced the floor in the living room of the rental house, back and forth. I was so angry, the rage inside me was desperately trying to break through. Ever since I saw that video all over Twitter and Instagram, no amount of meditation and deep breathing could calm the burning anger. 

I should have hit him when I had the chance. 

Fucking Trey. 

“You’re doing the pacing thing again, Noah,” Nicholas sighed. 

I ran my fingers through my hair, one of the stands wrapped around my long finger, a hiss falling from my lips when I tugged on a knot. “Ow!” 

“Sit down! Stop pacing and stop tugging your damn hair! You’re giving me whiplash.” Matt demanded. 

“You saw the video, Matt!  It’s been all over Twitter and Instagram all fucking day. I can't even check Bad Omens socials without it showing up. You heard what Trey said to Y/N! He had no regard for her feelings, for any of them. He has no fucking business even being there to begin with.”

It seemed like last night after the Hollow Souls show, Trey managed to get backstage and confront Y/N, Chase, and Malcolm. No one was sure who recorded it but from how close the video was, my guess was one of the venue workers. Probably sold it to TMZ for a few extra bucks. 

“I’m aware, Noah. We’re all aware and so is half of Twitter. He’s an asshole and his dad should have pulled out,” Matt said. 

I snorted, halting my pacing only for a moment. “We should tweet that.” 

He chuckled, “You know I’m game.”

Jesse spoke next. “There’s nothing you can do, Noah. But based on her reaction, Y/N stood up for herself. She got the closure and told Trey to fuck off. You can’t control and fix everything. She handled it on her own.” 

I marveled at how much he sounded like Dr. Poulos. Always reminding me of what I can’t control. I knew I couldn’t control or fix anything but it still made me angry. 

“He still had no right to say things like that; not to her,” I fell onto the couch next to Michael, my leg immediately beginning to bounce. 

Bailey told Y/N a piece of her mind, followed by Trey. I could only imagine how broken she must have felt with the two in such a short amount of time. But Y/N was a strong woman. She held her head high and always took the high road. She defended herself and stood up for what she believed in, what she wanted out of life. 

For that, I will always admire her. 

Matt leaned against the pool stick in his hand, he and Jolly pausing their game of pool when I rushed down the steps to show them the video. 

“I get it. So many fucking people with their opinions and people who say shit just to say it; even that slimy fuck. But, think of how fucking cool Y/N is. She told him off and he's never going to come back from that. Trust me, everyone’s trashing him. I doubt he’ll ever be in a fuckin band again.” 

“You’re right,” I smiled proudly. 

He snorted, going back to the pool game. “I know I am, thank you.” 

Peering at the clock on the wall, I noticed it was only 7 in the evening, still a few hours until my nightly text with Y/N. Although I wanted to ask her about how she was feeling but knew that if it was something to worry about, Chase or Malcolm would have texted me. 

I was, however, shocked when I received a text from an unknown number; the message making me sit straighter up on the couch. Michael noticed the way my body went stiff for a brief moment and motioned to my phone. 

“Don’t tell me it’s another video.” 

“No,” I shook my head. “It’s a text; from Joe.” 

Folio’s head snapped up from petting Salem who was lying in his lap. “Joe Mulherin. The artist they’re touring with?” 

I nodded now. “Yeah.” 

Unknown: Hey Noah, this is Joe. I got your number from Chase and Malcolm. This is a little awkward but I wanted to introduce myself. I’ve actually listened to your band- you’re really talented! The acoustic version of If I’m There was killer, seriously.

“Oh, is he sweet-talking you?” Matt asked while peering over my shoulder as he knelt behind the couch. 

As I went about saving his number, another message from Joe came through. 

Joe Mulherin: I’m texting you because I’m sure you saw the video of what happened with Trey and Y/N. I will firstly say, she’s fucking awesome! And I’m honored to be on this tour with her and the guys. Incredible musicians and incredible people. Gearing back to the whole Trey situation, he showed up out of nowhere; but I feel it’s important to let you know, at least from my side, that Y/N kicked ass. She stood up for herself and I could see she felt a world of relief.

“What are you going to say?” Jesse asked while taking a bite from his apple, now sitting on the other side of me. 

“No fucking privacy,” I grumbled under my breath as I worked out a response. 

Me: Hey Joe, it’s Noah. I’ve heard a lot about you as well. Y/N has been a huge fan of yours for a long time. She was stoked about this tour, and yes she is awesome. Y/N’s special to a lot of us. She’s a genuine person and has a heart of gold; Chase and Malcolm as well. I appreciate your kind words. That means a lot. You know how it is- especially in this industry. And I did see the video, unfortunately. You were there?

Joe Mulherin: In case she needed support.

Running a hand over my jaw, I pushed away the feeling of regret for not being there for her. Y/N didn’t need me there with her all the time to fight her battles. She clearly could do it on her own. 

Me: Right, thank you for that. I hated what Trey said, I wish I could have stopped it myself but I also know how important it was for Y/N to have closure. I’m so fucking proud of her.

It was true. My heart was soaring in my chest with how proud I was of her. She needed this closure. Not enough to bring her back or get closer to him because Y/N knew she couldn't live through that again. 

Joe Mulherin: You should be proud. She’s awesome and she’s over the moon about you. From what I’m told you really lit a fire inside her, and that seems to be shining through. My partner did that for me when I found her and I’m sure it’s the same for you as well. So I just wanted to pass this along and formally introduce myself. I’m sure Y/N will bring this up to you but I wanted to show you how I saw it on my end. I hope we can meet soon.

Joe Mulherin: Oh, also. Hollow Souls new record is going to be sick. What they’ve been working on is sounding great.

With a bright smile, I leaned back onto the couch as I typed out my message. 

Me: For sure! Thank you so much. I wish I could be there. But, I understand it’s not the right time. I do hope soon we can chill at my place to shoot the shit. Thank you again for sending me a text. Very kind of you and I’m sure we’ll talk soon. I can’t wait to hear her new album. We’re all very stoked about it. We’re also close to releasing our record, I’d love for you to check it out! 

Joe Mulherin: Hell yes!

Matt hummed while patting my shoulder. “He seems like a cool dude.” 

I agreed with a nod as a sudden surge of inspiration hit me; so much so I sat up with a start. 

“Hey, Jolly. Can you open the file for Like a Villain? I have a verse I want to add real quick.” 

Nicholas responded. “Weren’t we worried that it might have been too long?” 

Cursing, I nodded when I remembered that we were running into that issue the other day when we were mixing Like a Villain. We were already over the five-minute mark but I needed to add this verse; it was important. 

“Let’s split it. Make the first half its own song,” I suggested when the idea struck me. 

My bandmates all shared a look before Folio nodded. “I like it. But we’d need a name for it.” 

I pursed my lips as I thought about the lyrics, humming them quietly. 

You couldn't wait, wait, wait for the day, day, day I lost. It's such a shame, shame, shame you couldn't change, look what it cost.

“What It Cost,” I said. 

Jolly smiled. “I like it. Why don’t you head in the booth and we can record the new lyrics.” 

As I set myself up in the booth, I muttered the new lyrics to myself a few times over, trying to figure out the best way to lay them out and what kind of cursive to use for it. The music picked up in my headphones and immediately moved to the beat. My fingers drummed against my thigh in beat with Folio’s drumming on the track. I let my eyes flutter shut, licking my lips, before belting out the fresh lyrics in the confines of the booth. 

The dark filled the room, any feelings I had earlier regarding Trey died down, and the shadows were lost. A fry of my larynx and siren-like soprano erupted from me.  Slowly the bravado went from soft almost alluring- “Go the fuck away, don’t come again.” 

To a bite so vicious and raw, the growls come from activated my soft palate, ribcage expanding and within my diaphragm spreading to my throat and out my mouth. 

“I’ll see your face in the fire” ribcage closed exhale alto “And burn it out.”

I added a deep growl to the word fire but didn’t like how it sounded. So with a twirl of my finger towards Jolly, we redid the take a few more times until it was perfect. 

This is confidence hard-won yet deep, anchored in the true self that is always safe at my core. I let it rip. If Y/N can close that chapter, so will I. From what I knew of him, what I remembered. What I’ve seen. 

Good fucking riddance.

Later that night in the comfort of my bed, I grasped my phone in my hand as my eyes drifted in and out of sleep. It was almost 10 pm and even though I was exhausted, ready for slumber to drag me to its dark depths, I needed to send this text; sleep be damned. 

Me: I love you, angel. I’m so proud of you. 

I didn’t say why but I didn’t have to. Y/N knew. 

Angel 🪽: I love you too, mochi. 🖤

NOAH

I shook my head with a disappointed sigh. “No, this house won’t work. It’s not big enough. “

Jackie looked around the living room we were all currently standing in; smaller than the one back at our house. 

“Why? It has enough space for the four of you. You’re all in music, right? There’s a room perfect in the basement for that.” 

Jolly sucked in a breath as I scrunched up my face. We want our studio to have light, and not feel as if we’re making music in a dungeon.

“We need four rooms for us and two extra. One for our studio. And the other would have to be bigger, better lighting,” I informed while stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jeans. 

This was the second house we’ve toured today; Jesse, Jolly, Michael, and myself. We took the day off of recording to do this, so to see yet another one fail, my mood souring pretty quickly. 

“What are you wanting it for?” Jackie wondered. 

“An art studio.”

She shifted on her feet while clutching her iPad to her chest; the one she used to look up the dimensions and notes of the houses. “Mr. Sebastian, we can keep looking if you’d like, however, you’re asking for a little much in this area. I don’t mean to pry or speak out of turn, but it sounds like you’re asking for a risky property. Are you sure you need something of that magnitude if it’s only a few of you living here?”

My eyes narrowed as Jesse let out a low whistle. “I was very clear about what I wanted. I personally don’t believe I need to discuss the details of why I need it.” 

“Of course, I apologize,” Jackie’s lips were pulled in a tight line. “It sounds like you’re asking for more out of pocket than what’s actually necessary.”

“With all due respect, don't tell me what you think is necessary. I want the home to be right, for all of us. And what I want and need is a space large enough for 2 studios and the master bedroom to be fully sufficient with space. The details don’t concern you. You either want our money or you don’t,” I finished with a shrug. 

“My apologies, we will keep looking.”

While Jackie went about looking for another listing on her iPad, I turned towards the guys; Michael giving me a reassuring smile. 

“Don’t stress too much about it, Noah. It’s only the second house.” 

“Y/N’s art studio has to be next to my room, with the perfect lighting and easy cleanup. I don’t want her feeling uneasy if paint gets everywhere,” I said. 

“Is this how you actually feel or is this your OCD talking?” Jesse wondered. 

I rubbed my jaw. “No, no it’s not just about that shit. She needs to be comfortable where she doesn’t feel the need to be careful. Y/N needs to be able to be carefree and safe. Here. With me.”

Jolly rested a hand on my shoulder. “It will be fine, I promise.” 

“I know,” I blew out a shaky breath. “I don’t want her to be unhappy here and give her a reason to walk out”. 

“Noah, she’s gonna love this so much. Y/N isn’t going to just walk away from this. Not this time,” Jesse reassured me. 

Feeling a little more at ease, I gave a slow nod. “Oh, we need a big window with a lot of light too. Salem loves to sunbathe.”

Michael snorted. “You say those three words and all of a sudden you become a cat dad.” 

Damn straight. 

With a plan to tour a few more houses in two days, we parted ways with Jackie and piled into Jolly’s car as he began the drive back to the rental house we were staying in the last week. Right before we arrived, however, my phone rang with a call from one of the reps at Sumerian. 

“Oh boy,” I muttered while answering the call, setting it on speaker. 

“Hey, guys! How’s it going? I see that you guys are busy recording. We love that!” Logan’s fake voice boasted through the phone. 

Jolly and I shared a look in the rearview mirror and I nodded. “Yep. We’ve been working nonstop.” 

“Well listen, we’re getting some push from the higher-ups, with everything going on and we know you guys have been working endlessly, the singles we’ve been approved to release are straight-up fire! However, we need something else. We need a hit. The radio push would be great for the band- exposure and all that. Think you can do it?” 

“Yes,” I forced out through gritted teeth. 

One thing I didn’t like was being told how to work and how to create my music. 

“Awesome!” Logan cheered. “We’ll talk soon!”

Once the call ended, I tossed my phone in my lap and ran my hands down my face. 

“Fuck, they’re pushing this radio shit. I don’t give a fuck about the radio, that’s not why we do this.” 

“I know,” Jolly nodded while he took the turn to the familiar street. “But business calls. This is the unfavorable side. The question is, how are we going to magically write a hit in this short amount of time? We planned on releasing the album in a few weeks.”

“It’s easy, writing a modern rock song isn’t hard, Jolly.” I shrugged. “We’ve seen how many of the greats have done it. I have one just in mind.” 

Jesse turned towards me from his spot in the passenger seat. “Are you going to pull out your Scott Stap voice?” 

I smirked. “Fuck, maybe I will. 

“You have to use that false bravado,” Michael smacked my arm. 

I knew I could do this, I wasn’t attempting to sound cocky but, like I said many of the greats knew how this went down. 

Business.

Business.

Fuck business 

I feel it right into my bones that I’ve got more than it takes to make this work. I began humming random sounds, my facial expressions twitching, the cogs just continuing to turn. I had the perfect sound. It all came to me like a gust of wind. 

When you resonate your mind with your soul, you will learn to live through a love that is so honest it is raw. There was another risk with a song like this; with writing like this. 

I needed to get it out of me.

NOAH

I sat outside on the deck of the rental house, the fresh morning air was crisp but fine enough to wear a sweater; the heat of the sun warmed the skin of my face. Salem lay stretched out on the warm wood of the deck, his black fur shining with the rays of the sun. 

“Don’t tell Mom I didn’t put your harness on,” I pointed to him 

I realized early on that Salem wouldn’t run, curious as he was, he always stayed by one of us. 

My laptop was set up on the table in front of me, the Zoom app idling as it waited for the incoming call. With the stress of trying to come up with a radio hit in less than a few weeks, my anxiety was running rampant. Even though I had the song all laid out in my mind, it still scared me to finally put it out in the air for everyone to hear. 

I texted Dr. Poulos if she had time for a few-minute chat, one she agreed with. Thankfully her prior appointment was also a Zoom meeting so she was able to hop right on another one with me. 

Jolly appeared in the doorway leading outside, donning his leather jacket. The wind blew through the long strands of his hair as he nodded towards me. 

“I’m heading to that newish coffee shop nearby. Did you want anything?” He asked. 

“I could go for something,” I nodded while taking off the hood of my yellow sweater. 

After I gave him my order, I noticed the way the corner of his lips curled before he turned to walk away. 

“Try not to fall in love!” I called after him with a laugh. 

Jolly froze and then looked over his shoulder. “Wh-what?” 

“The coffee,” I smirked. “Try not to fall in love with it. I’m all open to something new but we like our usual.”

“Oh,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Right.” 

With Jolly gone, my computer lit up with a new call from Dr.Poulos and I answered it with a faint smile. 

“Good afternoon, Noah. How’s it going in the mountains?” She smiled wide at me.

“Uh, really great actually. We always like to find some kind of solace when we either write or record; it helps us mentally,” I answered while moving the screen to show her the mountains behind me. 

“That’s wonderful to hear! Now, you mentioned something about your record label pushing for a radio hit?” Dr. Poulos adjusted her glasses. 

I ran a hand through my hair while nodding. “Yeah. I have no problem with that; writing it. It’s been inside of me for a while now.  I just don’t know what to call it. I keep putting that part off, pretending it’s already completed so it’ll name itself.” 

“Can I be frank with you?” 

“Of course,” I nodded. 

Dr. Poulos took off her glasses and steepled her hands together underneath her chin. “What do you feel like you’ve been doing, Noah? You’ve mentioned the word pretend on and off for a while in our sessions. Is that what you’re doing? Pretending things are going well when internally you’re struggling to accept the status you’re at with y/n?”

 My eyes snapped up from my keyboard to the screen. “What was that?” 

“Pretending? Are you just pretending?” 

Suddenly, it was as if I’d been hit with a metal baseball bat to the knee, knocking me to the ground below. 

Something Y/N told me that night of the party. “I’m so tired of you pretending that you don’t have feelings for me.” 

Just Pretend. 

That’s all I ever do.

Dr. Poulos spoke again. “You said your label is pressuring you to write a hit. Have you given any thought about if that pressure and the pressure of wanting to be with Y/N romantically is almost conjoined?”

I pursed my lips while leaning back into my chair, giving this question a deep analysis; although the answer came to me almost instantly. 

Yes. 

NOAH

With a yawn, I held the steaming cup from the cafe in town as Salem and I walked out to the front porch, both of us opting to sit on the swinging chair this time. We had two days left in the rental house and I wanted to take full advantage of the peace that was held in the mountains. 

Something that maybe in a few years, I’d look for with Y/N. 

“Alright bud, ready to watch Mom’s interview?” I asked Salem as he got comfortable on my lap. 

He purred loudly in my lap as I pulled up the live stream from the podcast that was interviewing not only Y/N but Joe as well. He was finishing up his performance of one of his songs and when the camera panned over to Y/N, who was smiling as she watched, my heart soared. She looked fucking breathtaking and my soul yearned to have her close to me again. 

Soon. 

“Mom looks beautiful,” I whispered to Salem, who didn’t bother to wake from his nap. 

“That was phenomenal. We appreciate you being here with us.” 

I didn’t miss how the interviewer kept his attention on Joe, not bothering to give praise to Y/N. With a scowl, I kept the video up while opening my text messages, and clicking on her contact. I got a glimpse of her phone in her lap so I knew eventually she would see the message. 

Me: You look phenomenal, angel.

As I watched, I took a sip of my coffee, humming at the rich taste. I had to admit that this new coffee shop knew how to make a drink. 

“Everyone online is begging me to ask you two this but what’s the dating situation? There’s so much chemistry between the two of you in the behind-the-scenes clips you guys post on Instagram. Everyone wants to know; are you two dating?”

I rolled my eyes with a groan, knowing that this question was bound to be asked. It’s always a common thing any time two artists of the opposite sex tour together. People see the great chemistry between them and automatically think they’re fucking. Now, I did see the videos on Hollow Souls Instagram account but to me, it looked like a group of friends having fun while on tour; harmless fun. 

I trusted Y/N. She knew that. 

Y/N crossed her legs. “Just because a male and female artist tour together, doesn't mean they’re dating.”

A flood of endorphins rushed through me. The interview was important, but I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful and fucking sexy Y/N looked. A few moments in my imagination and I’m released from the troubles of the upper brain, wanting so badly to be happy with her in a space where pleasure is king, and I couldn’t wait to stick my head between the legs of my queen.

“Fuckin tell him, angel,” I said while working out a new text to her. 

Me: Tell him who’s boss, angel. You know who you belong to.

“See? Your mom is cool. Salem you should be watching this. No? Naps are important. I feel you,” I chuckled while scratching his head. 

I felt a surge of pride in my chest when Y/N continued to stand up to the interviewer, not taking his shit questions.  

“Video surfaced online that Trey was at the show a few nights ago and it looked like the two of you were having an intense conversation. Is there a chance he’s joining Hollow Souls again?”

My lips pulled in a low scowl as I saw a flash of pain behind Y/N’s eyes when she forced a smile before leaning forward with narrowed eyes. 

“Here’s what we’re not going to do; we’re not gonna focus on my love life, or personal life. I make art, not headlines. I’m cool because I'm me, and my band is cool. The art is what’s the focus, not anything else. I do feel as if people need to understand that having a private life is my right. I don’t feel comfortable sharing every aspect. Like I said, I make art, not headlines.”

The interviewer tried to joke. “That’s a bold statement to make. It comes with the whole fame territory.”

“I refuse to allow this time in my life to be touched, tainted, or bastardized by anyone,” Y/N finished while crossing her arms over her chest.

All the heat rushed straight to my dick with the image of Y/N bossing me around like that so I sent her another text. 

Me: Fuck I love when you put douchebags in their place. You’re so sexy, angel. Fuck. I’m going to think about you bossing me around all night.

I knew I succeeded when I noticed a red hue cross her cheeks and Y/N squeezed her legs together as she read my text.

As the interview continued, I began to sing lyrics that came out of nowhere. “I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face and not a day goes by where I don’t think I feel the same.”

Y/N’s soft voice brought my attention back to the interview. 

“I’m becoming a very private person as of late so I don’t need to go into the personal aspects of my life. Just know I’m moving past things, and I’m very content. Dare I say happy with where the future will be.”

The interviewer nodded. “Fair enough. Would you say you’re hopeful for what the future will bring?” 

With a bright smile, Y/N looked directly at the camera, her eyes staring directly into my soul, and winked. 

“Oh yes, more than hopeful.”

Once the interview ended, I locked my phone and began to swing on the chair, every so often petting Salem. The sun was hiding behind an array of dark clouds, a storm was approaching; the perfect kind of weather to cuddle inside with the ones you love. 

Or write a radio hit.

“I can wait for you at the bottom,” I hummed. “I can stay away if you want me to.” 

Salem woke and looked up at me with bright green eyes. 

“I can wait for years if I gotta, heaven knows I ain’t getting over you,” I hummed, this time louder. 

My eyes bulged as I picked up Salem and ran back inside to where Jolly and Matt were lounging on the couch. 

“They want their radio hit? Well, I’m going to fucking give it to them!” I smiled widely as they looked up at me. 

Hours later after the song was written, all of us hung out in the living room of the rental house; Jesse and Michael playing pool, Folio on the phone with his girlfriend, Nicholas and Jolly working on the music for the new song. Matt and I were sitting on the couch together watching a movie, Salem perched on the back of the couch, resting his head on Matt’s shoulder. 

Noticing it was nearing 10 p.m., I pulled out my phone to text Y/N only to realize she texted me already with four pictures attached. 

Angel 🪽: You were bold to text me earlier like that, mochi, I could barely contain myself. Here’s a little payback. Hope you’re all flustered and bothered, whatever you’re doing I suppose will have to wait. Dream of me. I love you.

Clicking on the first picture, I nearly dropped my phone in my lap when the bright red lingerie graced my eyes. 

Holy shit. 

Y/N seemed to be in the bathroom of her tour bus as she posed in different positions showcasing the red lace teddy that hugged every inch of her marvelously. The color red did absolute wonders for her skin and I licked my lips, wanting to taste the valley between her breasts down her stomach to the sweet mound between her legs. The floral tattoo on her arm looked gorgeous as she held the phone out wide for the picture. 

Tilting my phone away from prying eyes, I quickly sent four texts in a row to Y/N. 

Me: Matt’s right next to me, angel. What if he saw this?

Me: fuck, my dick is throbbing right now but I can’t do shit about it. Consider this my karma.

Me: I can’t stop staring at the pictures. Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Beautiful. A true definition of an angel. 

Me: I’m going to call you in a little bit. I need to hear your voice. I need it.

My cock was aching in my joggers and I tried so hard not to make it noticeable as I shifted in my seat. 

Matt peered over at me with a raised brow. “You good?” 

I coughed. “Yep. I’m going to head to bed.” 

All but jumping from the couch, I made my way upstairs towards my room but Jesse’s voice stopped me. 

“You’re not bringing Salem? He always sleeps with you.” 

Running a hand over my jaw. “I’m going to take a shower first then I’ll grab him.” 

“Right after you look at those pictures Y/N’s sent you again,” Matt teased, not bothering to take his eyes off the television. 

A low growl came from my throat as I pointed to him. “You didn’t see shit.” 

He raised his hands in the air. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” 

Bidding them goodnight with a nod, I took the stairs two at a time and then locked the door to my room. My skin felt a blaze, those images burned in my brain, and my cock was almost standing straight out as I peered down at it; a tent in my joggers. 

Y/N texted me and I let out a shuddering breath as I read it, trying to compose myself for a minute. 

Angel 🪽: I’m going to bed early tonight. Maybe we can talk on the phone tomorrow. I love you.

Even in my aroused state, my heart yearned for the one that held it and my soul in her hands. 

Me: Fuck, I love you too angel. So fucking much.

Quickly shedding myself from my clothes I then positioned myself on the bed, my hair falling into waves against the pillow as I planted my feet on the edge of the mattress. My knees were up and spread wide as my cock stood straight up, little beads of precum oozing from the small slit. I took a finger and swirled it all around the sensitive part of my head. 

“Fuck,” my hips bucked with the high amount of sensitivity. 

My room was eerily quiet, too quiet for what I was about to do, so I turned on some music; more specifically Eyelids by Hollow Souls. 

If she couldn’t be here with me physically, I needed to hear her angelic voice somehow. 

I glanced at the pictures on my phone again, focusing on the one of Y/N sitting on the bathroom counter, her legs spread wide showcasing her sweet pussy that was barely covered behind the red lace, and her perfect tits were almost falling out at the top of the lingerie set. The sinister smirk on his lips told me she knew what I was going to do the second I was alone. 

I was fucking obsessed with how that teddy looked on her; her knowing what the color red did to me. It was so sexy, all I wanted to do was take it off with my teeth. I imagined Y/N as she rode me while wearing this teddy and she shoved the panties in my mouth when I would moan too loud. 

“Oh god,” I groaned while gripping my cock tight after pulling on the skin. 

Her voice sang sweet words to me but all I could imagine was her leaning over me to drag her lips across my throat. 

“You’re being too loud, Noah. We can’t risk the others hearing you.” 

I could almost taste those panties soaked with her arousal and I halted my stroking for a second. 

“Fuck! I have to improvise,” I leaned over the bed to rummage through my suitcase to find a thin sock.  

I hesitated for a brief second. “Shit, am I really doing this just to help get me off?” 

The image was still clear in my mind, Y/N riding my cock with her panties shoved in my mouth. 

“Fuck it,” I stuffed the sock in my mouth and began stroking my cock faster this time. 

I knew I wouldn’t last long, my orgasm burning low at the base of my spine and my stomach muscles contracted as I spread my knees wider apart. I lifted my hips off the bed when the grip around my cock was almost bruising, needing the slight pain to push me closer to release. One hand around my cock, the other holding my phone with the picture of Y/N, I supported my moans into the sock. 

If I was being honest, Eros took hold of me. I couldn’t wait to be able to actually fuck Y/N again. I’d make love to her every night, no question. This evening, carnality took flight. I wanted to leave her shaking, crying, and clawing at my chest. Begging me to never stop.

“Oh gods, angel. I can’t wait to feel you again,” I moaned into the sock as I nearly dropped my phone when my orgasm was so close. 

My grip was tighter and pace faster when I laid my legs straight out now, ready for pure euphoric bliss to drown me in waves. 

I was completely blissed out and exhausted, but I needed this release. I tried harder to hold the phone up eventually losing grip of it as it clattered to the floor. With my free hand, I now grasped at the blanket beneath me when my orgasm finally ripped through me. Warm cum shot out on my hand and stomach as I rode out the aftershocks with muffled screams, the song ending right as I finished. 

“That’s so good, Noah. So good for me,” Y/N’s soft voice cooed in my ear. 

As I came down from my high, one thing was clear. I wanted Y/N  imprinted in my mind as vividly as possible, not that her silhouette wasn’t always there already. I could feel my tongue involuntarily move in a wiper direction. Naturally envision grazing her insides with my warm, wet tongue.

NOAH

Folio came bounding down the stairs with a happy smile on his face. I raised a brow to him as I sat on the couch, strumming a few notes on the guitar. 

“Where are you headed?” I asked. 

“I’ve got a date with Michelle tonight. We’re going to Wingstop then head to the drive-in. It’s showing her favorite Cillian Murphy movie,” he answered while slipping into his leather vest.

“Taking the bike out?” Jolly asked from his spot at the computer as he paused mixing our current track. 

“We’re going to have a picnic at the drive-in; there’s a nice area designated for this. Michelle has no idea. I’m planning on surprising her after she gets out of class by picking her up.” 

“Good for you, man. I’m really happy that things are going so well for you,” Nicholas smiled. 

“You guys don’t need me tonight, right?” He asked. 

I shook my head with a smile. “No, go enjoy your night. We can't do much drum tracking here anyway. Tell Michelle we say hey.” 

“WEAR A CONDOM!” Matt, who was sitting on the floor playing with Salem and his new batch of toys, yelled just before the door shut behind Folio. 

While Jesse and Michael played a game of pool, I shifted my attention to the notebook on the coffee table. Tonight we had plans to record our new song but nerves were eating away at my insides. To become so raw and vulnerable in front of everyone as I poured my heart and soul out into the song gave me a bit of pause. 

“You know what’s wild?” I asked suddenly. 

“What’s that?” Jolly questioned while turning around in his chair. 

“It’s crazy how everything always comes full circle, I guess. With our last record, I said, “writing songs instead of letters, 'cause I’m too afraid.” 

“Have you written actual letters?” Matt questioned while lying on the floor with Salem, his head resting in the new bed I bought Salem. 

“Sort of,” I shrugged while tapping the pen against my notebook. “More like entries to Y/N, I guess. I can’t write fucking letters to her knowing that there’s a chance they’d get lost and she’d never get them.” 

I sighed while running a hand down my face. “The only way I know how to express how I feel is through music. I have these lines I keep repeating over and over; things I've said, things I haven't. I just need to make sure that when Y/N hears this song she knows how I truly feel.” 

“Here we thought you were writing this song out of spite to the label, or poke fun at radio hits,” Jolly jokes. 

“I don’t know what that means. They wanted a fucking hit so we’re going to give it to them. 

Nicholas rubbed my shoulder. “She knows, Noah. You two say I love you every night.” 

“I know but I need her to know how I feel deep down. How sorry I am for how everything went down the last few months. The fighting, Bailey, and not being who she needed when she needed me.” 

The guilt about Bailey still lingered. The way Y/N’s face looked so broken when she found out about me sleeping with Bailey. I have a lot of regrets in my life and that was one of them. Y/N and I are in a good place but I couldn’t help but worry that she still wasn’t over what happened. 

I couldn't risk any reason to have Y/N leave me again. 

“The both of you have grown since then. You’re where you’re supposed to be right now and soon, when Y/N hears this song, she’ll never leave,” Michael reassured me. 

Jesse agreed with a nod. “We’ve read the lyrics, Noah. It’s a great song.” 

“It's not hard to guess what the true meaning behind the song is. You’ve been subconsciously working on it off and on for months.”

“Jolly-.” 

He continued. “You both need to just make it official already. Your perfectionist nature and need to control everything is making this not so simple. You’re both so alike. You’re right there. You're saying I love you, call a spade a spade and ask her to be yours.” 

I stared down at the socks on my feet. “If Y/N shows up to the album release event maybe I can officially ask her then.” 

“Maybe?” Matt snorted. “What the hell do you mean, maybe? You’re looking for houses with an art studio and you’re saying maybe? Of course, she’ll be there.”

“You’ve done everything you’ve set your fucking mind to, Noah. Don’t let this be another thing you regret,” Nicholas said.

I wanted to let this song be the rock and holy anchor for her. Coming to terms from a healthier perspective. 

New beginnings. 

My vulnerability was laid out on paper. If anyone else needed to hear it it would be there for them. The message is there, you’d just have to find it. 

The way travelers seek the stars at night.

With a deep breath, I tossed the notebook back onto the table, not needing it because I knew every single word of this song. So much so, I sang it in my sleep. 

“Give me five minutes, I need to do something first,” I called over my shoulder as I walked towards the bathroom of the rental house. 

Once inside, I pulled out my phone with a long sigh and worked out the long message. 

Me: Hi angel. I know it’s not 10 o’clock yet but I felt the need to text you a little sooner. Shit has been weighing on me. I want to apologize for what I put you through. The miscommunication, the mind games, the confusion, and Bailey. I should never have brought her into any of our lives.  It was a dark moment that I succumbed to and I’ll never forgive myself for using Bailey as a way to hurt you. It was never my intention. I was drunk the night I slept with her, not saying it’s an excuse, but it was a dark place in my life that I never want to go back to. 

Blowing out a shaky breath, I hit send before working out another message. 

Me: My apology is for not being better, for not getting here sooner, for not rescuing earlier or with greater strength; all I ask is that you forgive me for those transgressions. In those times I was doing the very best I could and loving you so very much all the time. I love you so much, Y/N. I’m hoping that with this, we’re starting clean. There’s been a lot of different phases of my life and I can’t be the best I can unless I make amends for everything wrong that happened between us. I love you.

As I waited for Y/N to reply, I sat on the counter in the bathroom and let my long legs dangle off, swinging with anticipation. I nearly dropped my phone when it buzzed in my hand. 

Angel 🪽: hi mochi. Well, first I’ll say thank you. Thank you for communicating with me and apologizing. With the weeks we’ve been apart since I’ve been working on myself too. I forgive you. I accepted that while it did hurt me, you made a mistake. I want us to let go of the negative emotions and painful parts of memories. 

For many years I had punished myself, feeling that if I forgave more fully then love would blossom; yet in truth, it had never been there at all. Things have changed. I want to be better too. 

Forgiveness brings the liberty to love again and to heal the heart, soul, and mind. Thank you again, mochi. I love you too. 

With a lighter heart full of so much love for Y/N, I hopped off the counter and nearly barreled through the door, clapping my hands loudly. 

“Alright, let's record this hit!” 

My heart was pounding as I stepped up to our makeshift booth, put on the headphones and shook out the nerves from my hands. Over time I learned how to shake the nerves from doing my vocal takes in front of others, and lose the embarrassment. 

With our first two records, I tried to emanate vocals from other artists because I wasn’t confident in myself as a vocalist. Now, I wanted Y/N and everyone else to see that this was me; this record was Noah Sebastian and Bad Omens. 

With Jolly and Matt's cue, I took a deep breath and started on the first verse. 

“I'm not afraid of the war you've come to wage against my sins. I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend. So will you wait me out? Or will you drown me out? So will you wait me out or will you drown me out?” 

Y/N’s face flashed in my mind at that first meeting; our first day on tour when I stepped off of my bus. She looked absolutely breathtaking with her long blonde hair blowing with the gentle breeze. Her toned legs were accentuated by the boots she wore and the ink of her Greek Gods tattoo on full display. The way her lips parted as I stole the breath from her longs with our first of many stolen glances. 

I licked my lips, eyes fluttering shut as I let the first chorus rip through me with my cursive singing. “I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I can wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you.”

I didn’t bother opening my eyes to see the other's reaction. I needed to stay in this place I found myself in; my soul screaming for Y/N’s. 

“I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face and not a day goes by where I don't think I feel the same. So will you wait me out? Or will you drown me out? So will you wait me out? Or will you drown me out?”

We sat on the beach together, all those months ago, and Y/N continued to try and hide herself from me. She wore the faintest of smiles as she blew out a shaky breath when I lifted her chin with a knuckle. 

"You shouldn't be with someone that drains your spirits. Drain the light from your soul, angel."

"It can't rain all the time."

“I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I could wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you. We'll try again. When we're not so different. We will make amends. 'Til then I'll just pretend,” my hand rested on the windows of the booth, nails digging into the glass as I continued to pour myself into this. 

“Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning. Way down, would you say I'm worthy? Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning. Way down, would you say I'm worthy?”

Y/N didn’t want to leave, I could see that in the way her movements slowed once she was dressed, almost as if she was buying time for me to say something that would change her mind. But she refused to meet my gaze.

"Angel, look at me. What's the matter?" I asked again.

"Nothing-," she began with a sigh.

"Then why won't you stay?"

I tried not to think back to the negative aspects of our night together. I always tried to remember the way her skin tasted or felt against mine. But every once in a while her face as she was seconds away from walking away from me came crashing into me without warning. 

“I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I could wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you.” 

Still buried deep inside of Y/N, I rolled our bodies so now she was straddling me. Her hands sprawled over the tattoos that covered my chest and she leaned down to lick across the snake and apple on my neck. The noises I made, and my moans were so soft as Y/N’s hot tongue went up and down my neck. She grazed over my Adam's apple with her teeth and bit down. I shook underneath her and wrapped an arm around her back to bring her closer, burying my aching cock, deeper inside of her.

We felt the rush, the aching, burning blush. We surrendered to the touch. Y/N gave me a show. This was heaven in hiding.

I sucked in a large breath, ready for the crescendo of the song, and let every fucking feeling I have for my angel come out through me in a surge of passion and energy. 

“We'll try again. When we're not so different. We will make amends. 'Til then I'll just pretend,” I nearly fell back into the booth as a lone tear fell from my eyes, quickly wiping it away. 

Rain poured around us with the onslaught of the storm as Y/N pointed a firm finger at me. “You always just pretend that everything is fine when it’s not! Then you stand there and have the right to say I’m the pain in the ass? Fuck you, Noah! I’m so tired of you pretending that you don’t have feelings for me.”

With the last few lines of the song left, I envisioned the one memory that I remembered every morning when I woke and every night before I fell asleep; the same thought was always there at the end of it. 

I am worthy. 

“Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning. Way down, would you say I'm worthy? Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning. Way down, would you say I'm worthy?”

“You what?” I urged while taking a step towards her. 

Y/N wildly shook her head as her makeup ran down her face, staining her cheeks and neck in mascara. 

“I-I can’t.” Y/N pressed her palm into her forehead. 

“Yes, you can,” I licked my lips in anticipation. “Fuck, Y/N! YOU WHAT?!”

“I’m in love with you! Okay?! I fucking love you! 

I tossed the headphones off of me to let out a deep breath and center myself once again, coming back to reality; not before one final memory flashed in my mind. 

“Well, that’s what we do. We fight. You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you’re being a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99 percent of the time. I’m not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2-second rebound rate, then you’re back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing!”

By now, the rain was a torrential downpour, branches of the trees swaying widely in the wind as the sky cracked loudly with lightning and thunder; it shook both Y/N and I to our bones. 

“So what?” Y/N scoffed. “Why does it matter to you?”

“Because I fucking love you, angel!” I blurted out.

NICK R

Holy shit. 

I looked over towards Jolly, who also had a shocked expression on his face. We all just watched Noah pour his soul into a song, one that would typically take more than one vocal take to get right, but he was so confident in this song that he didn't stop once. 

As soon as Noah stepped out of the booth, Salem trotted over to him and was swiftly picked up in his arms. “Did you like that, Salem? Do you think it was good enough?” 

Matt snorted. For the record label, my ass.” 

Noah’s eyes narrowed at him as he plopped down on the couch next to me. “I still feel like something is missing.” 

Almost immediately as he sat, he nearly stumbled off of the couch as he reached for his phone on the table in front of him. 

“It’s not ten o'clock yet,” Michael teased. 

Noah flipped him off. “No, asshole. I need something from Bryan. There’s something I want to use from the video of our day at the pier. I want to bury Y/N’s voice in the track.” 

I turned towards him when Salem decided to sit in my lap now. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Do you think she’ll notice?” 

“No. Because nobody is going to know what this record truly is or who it’s about. It’s not their business. I’ve got it all worked out in my head.” 

We could all see the bags under Noah’s eyes since he stayed up all night the previous night writing this song, making sure it was perfect. 

“You should also get some sleep. We can figure this out tomorrow,” Jolly suggested. 

Noah immediately shook his head. “No.” 

“Noah-,” Jesse started. 

“Let me fucking do this, guys. Please. I need this,” he almost begged, his voice quiet. 

Eventually, I nodded. “Alright. This is your song, man. If you want to do it, go for it.” 

He smiled while throwing his hair in a low bun and turned towards Matt, shaking his phone. “Bryan sent over the audio. Think you can mix it?” 

Matt held a hand to his chest and had a faux hurt expression. “Is my dear Noah doubting my mixing abilities?” 

As the two of them along with Jolly began working on mixing the audio to bury it in the track, I had my own agenda. Salem looked up at me with curious eyes as I began typing widely on my phone. 

“Your uncles better be cool with this idea because if not, I don’t know how else I’ll be able to pull it off,” I muttered to the cat. 

Me: This new song Noah just recorded is heavy. We need to plan something to finally get their asses in gear and stop the bullshit.

Chase: I’m down.

Malcolm: You don’t even have to ask me twice. What are we thinking?

While I worked out the plan with them, Michael spoke from his spot in the kitchen as he grabbed a round of drinks for all of us; non-alcoholic for Noah since he recently started his sober journey. 

“Does this masterpiece have a name?”  

Noah leaned back in his chair, hands resting behind his head, and smiled wide. “Just pretend.” 

I raised a brow. “Just pretend?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, cuddling the blanket closer to his chest that he had wrapped around himself. 

“I love it,” Jolly admitted. “It’s perfect.” 

Noah smiled, bumping fists with him. “Thank you, I think so too.”

NOAH

I stood in the middle of the large bedroom, mind running a mile a minute as I envisioned how the space would look. Jolly, Jesse, and Michael stood behind me as we all decided together that this place was perfect. It was our new home. 

“So, we’ve been thinking,” Jolly started as he walked around to face me. 

My brows furrowed. “Do you guys not like this house? I know it is a bit out of our price range but it’s worth it, I think. It has enough bedrooms for all of us and the two studios.” 

Jesse chuckled. “You’re rambling.” 

“Sorry,” I breathed while scratching my cheek. “I’m just nervous that this might be too good to be true. This place is perfect and if we don’t get it, I don't know how long it will be until the next one comes up; if it does.” 

“Stop thinking of all the negatives and for once, think of all the positives. Like how you get the master suite.” 

I snapped my head towards Michael. “What?” 

The three of them nodded and Jolly spoke again. “It’s only fair, Noah. The three of us don’t need this big of a bedroom and knowing that Y/N will be over a lot, it’s only fair the two of you get as much privacy as you can get.” 

“Also helps that this room is on the main floor while ours are upstairs,” Michael joked. 

I playfully pushed him. “Thank you guys. I love the optimism but we don’t even know if our offer was accepted.” 

We’d been back home for the last few days, finally finishing recording the new album, and while touring a couple more houses, we fell in love with the one we were currently standing in and immediately put in an offer. 

Enough bedrooms, a large window in the living room for Salem to lay in front of, a decent-sized backyard with a jacuzzi, and the art studio that was right next to the master suite. It had a large window that showcased the small creek that ran along the side of the house. And hardwood floors throughout the entire house.

Not to mention, the privacy of the neighborhood was a huge bonus. 

A soft knock sounded on the door of the empty master bedroom and we all turned toward Jackie who had a wide smile on her face. 

“Great news! The sellers accepted your offer. Now while we do have to wait for the bank to accept the sale, I want you guys to remain optimistic. Typically this kind of thing takes a while so I don’t want you to stress out.” 

Jolly gave me a sideway glance, one that I ignored. I was too fucking over the moon with excitement. Our offer was accepted and we were one step closer to finishing this part of our new phase. 

Three weeks later, we closed on the house and were moving in with hopeful hearts. The guys stayed true to their words and allowed me to take the master suite, which currently seemed bare with my desk and computer setup, and the long table on the opposite wall as it peered out to the window, the flowing creek the only thing Y/N would see whenever she sat there. I decided that a new bedroom called for a new bed; a bigger one. It would be delivered in a few days along with a few other things I ordered. I bothered Chase and Malcolm with ideas for days. 

Me: Do you guys think this table will be big enough? 

I sent a link to yet another vanity I found online. 

Chase: Noah, this is the 4th vanity table you’ve shown us. 

Me: And?

Malcolm, dude you have to relax. It’s perfect. Way better than the small suitcase she uses to hold every one of her products now. 

Me: well with me, she’ll never have to. 

Later on that day, I received another text from Chase. 

Chase: Noah, beware of paint all over the carpet.

I snorted as I typed out my response. 

Me: Already taken care of.

Chase: Good. Because even though I love her to the ends of the earth, paint is a fucking bitch to clean.

Me: Here’s the address. I would love it if you and Malcolm come check it out. 

Chase: Definitely. Let's plan for Friday?

Jesse and Michael gave me shit any chance they could get about obsessing over a vanity table. 

“Y/N does her own makeup. No one else does it for her so I need a spot for all of it.” I said while we browsed Ikea the other day. 

Michael tossed a new blanket into the cart I’d been pushing. “Damn, you really got it all figured out. I never thought I’d hear you ever say you need space for a vanity.” 

“That was before I ever cared. I just wanna make sure she has her own space. That’s all,” I defended while setting a cat tree into the cart. 

Jessed raised a brow, one I shrugged at. “Salem needs one for our place.” 

“I bet you cried your eyes out when you dropped it back off at Y/N’s place this morning.” 

Rolling my eyes, I ignored Micahel and continued down the long aisle of kitchen ware. 

“It’s going to all work out, Noah. This is a lot, especially when you’ve never done this before. I mean, we’ve been a fraternity for a long time if you think about it,” Jolly said. 

“Yeah, I know. But you guys know me, I’m in my head over the smallest things. This is a big deal. I don’t want to give her a reason to say no.” 

Jesse rubbed my shoulder. “She won't, Noah. It’s going to be awesome so don’t stress about this.” 

Letting out a deep breath, I set aside the screwdriver and paused building the new end table to run my palms over my white star shorts. I’ve talked to everyone in my life about this but neither of them gave me peace of mind the way I needed. 

Clearing my throat, I spoke out to the space in front of me. 

“Uh, hey Keaton,” I now rubbed the fresh tattoo on the sides of both of my hands, tracing each letter. “It’s been a while since we’ve had one of our talks but life has been a bit chaotic.” 

“We moved into a new house. Orie moved in with his girlfriend and we decided the rest of us needed a new place ourselves. A fresh start, if you will. A new phase for all of us.” 

I sniffled but kept the tears at bay. “Y/N and I are, well I don’t know what I would call us but we admitted our feelings for each other. We say I love you every night but the unknown of what we are still lingers and it fucking scares me to death not knowing if she’ll stay. I’m trying to do everything right to make sure she does. I can’t handle her walking out of my life again, Keaton.” 

Now running my hand through my hair, my bottom lip wavered. “I need a sign from you, man. I need to know that Y/N will stay. That all of this won’t be too much for her.” 

The eerie silence of the house was all I heard until seconds later, the Alexa device on my desk began playing a song; one I never expected but ended up smirking at. Memory Fiction by Erra echoed throughout my room and I shook my head with a laugh. 

“You would choose one of Jesse’s songs,” I wiped away a few stray tears. “Thanks, Keaton, I know we’ll talk soon.” 

I sat on the floor, letting Jesse’s words resonate deep within my bones. Y/N and I were reaching out towards the next phase of ourselves, autonomous from what connected us. 

When the song ended, the silence didn’t last long because there was a knock on my open bedroom door and when I hastily stood, I gave Chase and Malcolm a soft smile. 

“Hey, I’m glad you guys could make it,” I waved them inside. 

“Jesse just gave us the tour. It’s a nice place. I’m glad it worked out,” Chase said. 

I nodded. “Thanks. I wanted to make sure you guys gave me the okay. I don’t plan on rushing into things with Y/N. She can stay here as many nights as she wants. I just want to make sure she has a home here with her and Salem.” 

I motioned to the table. “Do you think this is big enough for all of her products? I want her to have space for it and all her skull nick-nacks and Valak Funko pop. She’d get that demon tattooed on her if she could”.

Chase agreed with a boisterous laugh. 

I pointed to another window that I placed another table in front of moments before they arrived; this one smaller than the vanity. 

“I thought that she could use this space for her plants. I know she’s obsessed with them. Honestly, she could turn our room into a fucking jungle for all I care. As long as she was here with me.” 

Malcolm had a hand over his heart. “Noah, this is great. Y/N loves you. You could have bought a studio apartment and she’d still make it a home.” 

I agreed with a slight curl of my lips. “Because she’d be there.” 

NOAH

I blew out a nervous breath as I stepped through the front door, clutching the bag tightly in my hand and when three sets of eyes landed on me, I halted in place. I was unsure of how they would react to this since I didn’t tell them where I was going when I left a few hours ago. 

Jesse was the first to speak with an approving nod. “Well hello, my friend.” 

“Don’t start,” I pointed a finger at him. 

Jolly stopped as he carried the high stack of towels, ready to put them away in the linen closet upstairs when he took in the sight of me. “Woah, I didn’t think you’d go through with it.” 

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I got tired of not seeing my neck. It was still suffocating.” 

“It’s different seeing you like this,” Michael said as he lounged on our new couch. 

The couch I spent years yearning for and imagining what it would look like.

“You think Y/N will still find me attractive like this?” I asked while shifting on my feet. 

Jesse's eyes widened. “Are you dumb?” 

“No, I’m just a little worried she won’t find this appealing. I mean, I love it. But you know, I don’t want her to be repulsed.”

“Noah, stop thinking that,” Jolly spoke. “Stop worrying, you look sharp and fierce.  It's a great look. And last I heard she gave herself a little makeover too.”

My eyes snapped up from the floor towards him. “She did?” 

“Yeah,” he smiled before heading up the stairs. 

I couldn't stop the smirk that spread to my face. “Damn, maybe we can be all mysterious and unveil at the release party. She’s going, right?”

“Nick said he texted her about it weeks ago. Y/N will be there,” Jesse patted my shoulder for reassurance. 

Now in the solace of my bedroom, I stood in front of the full-length mirror that was in the walk-in closet and admired how I looked. St. Patrick by Hollow Souls played from the Alexa speaker and I nodded my head along to it, amping me up on how the final look came together. 

“And I’m not spiritual but please stay. ‘Cause I think you’re a saint and I think you’re an angel,” I sang along quietly. 

I took a step back from the mirror but something felt wrong; off. I was missing something.

Opening the small drawer in front of me, I rummaged through the small variety of jewelry, knowing that once Y/N had her own pieces in here it would become filled until I found the two pieces I was looking for. 

The silver chain and bracelet shined under the light overhead and I ran a finger over it, remembering the day I gave Y/N her matching set. 

She opened the box as a gasp left her lips, the silver necklace and matching bracelet shone under the light of the room. It wasn't anything over the top and there were no diamonds but that didn't matter to her. She wasn't one for over-the-top jewelry, this simple chain and bracelet were enough.

With wet eyes, Y/N gazed up at me as I nervously fiddled with my rosary. "Do you like it?"

She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me into her embrace, burying her face into his neck. "I love it, Noah. Thank you so much."

With the bracelet and necklace now clasped onto my body, my look was complete. My fingers worked through the curtain-style bangs. The long fringe was paired with a middle part, a 3-guard short side.

“The Levi Ackerman haircut. I wonder if anybody will catch the reference. I’m a nerd,” I chuckled at myself in the mirror

Earlier,  I left the Harley Davidson shop with a new outlook; the oil-slick leather gloves in the bag. I was excited for the new era of myself and Bad Omens. I was ready for the new phase for what it was, what I’ve conjured in my mind. 

The power of visual aesthetics to convey emotions and enhance the overall experience of the music. The glove serves as a physical extension of my artistic vision, adding an element of mystique and intrigue to this persona I've created. Allowing me to create a distinct identity and connect with the audience on a deeper level.

I stared at myself in the mirror taking it all in. Completely engulfed in the Yohji Yamamoto coat and cargo pants. I spritzed Sauvage, opening the turtleneck I was wearing for the liquid to drip down my chest. It was snug in some areas, but all the same showed off the physicality of my dedication, as of recent. 

I look good.

I reached into the coat pocket for my phone eager to show Y/N but stopped myself from taking the photo. 

No, leave it as a surprise.

[boldstarks]

The Unwanted Wife Blurb #1: First Son

word count: 1K pairing: young!Robert Baratheon x wife!reader, oc x reader (mentioned) warnings: pregnancy, brief mentions of sex and childbirth, emotional neglect of a spouse

Despite you being nine moons gone with a child, your husband, the king, had very little issue leaving with an entourage of his most favored cronies on a hunting trip in the Kingswood. You didn't even protest when he announced the trip to you. You simply went back to your reading. A few months earlier, you would have raged at his callousness, but you are too tired now. You didn't know if it was from the pregnancy or maybe you were finally numb to Robert's poor treatment.

You simply told him to behave sensibly and turned back to your reading. When he set out a day later, you watched him leave from the balcony of your chambers. Many ladies gathered in the courtyard to send off their husbands in the king's hunting entourage. You made the excuse of being much too heavy with the child to make it in a timely manner.

You watched the group of men atop their horses ride away, your husband at the head.

"Your Grace, I'm sure everything will be alright," one of your ladies' maids said.

She means to be comforting, but her words fill you with bitter contempt.

"I am not the only woman with a thoughtless boar for a husband, and I won't be the last," you say, watching the riding party disappear outside the Red Keep's walls.

The maid said nothing and began gathering the soiled sheets from your bed; they were tainted by sweat and Robert's seed. Your coupling the prior night had been angry, tinged with a foreign tenderness that Robert had only developed when your pregnancy had started to show.

You figured Robert's surrogate father and Hand, Jon Arryn, would keep you company. This was both a good and a bad thing, in your opinion. You were fond of the man himself, but not of his wife, Lysa Tully. It was a struggle to get along with the woman despite trying to be kind to her.

You tried to tell yourself that this was just like any other time. Robert was away and left you by yourself for days on end. But you knew deep down that you would give birth alone. The King had barely been gone a day when your labors began.

You spent nearly a full day in the birthing bed, writhing with agony, without a word from the hunting party or Robert. You cried nearly the entire time. You cried for home, for your mother, for your father, and mostly for your first love, Alyn, who had died fighting during Robert's Rebellion. Then, at dusk on the third day of his absence, your child was born.

"It's a boy, Your Grace," Grand Maester Pycelle said, holding the newborn child aloft after he had slipped free from the birth canal.

The squalling infant is quickly cleaned by some septas before being swaddled and brought back to you.

The boy is small and red-faced, and he entered the world howling furiously. He only stops wailing when he is put on your chest. You find yourself smiling when you gently cradle his small head of damp black curls as his Baratheon blue eyes stare up at you. Look at your little boy and feel that spark of happiness in your chest that you hadn't felt since you received news of Alyn's death.

"His name shall be Alaric," you tell the Maester without looking away from your baby.

You knew Robert wanted to name his first son, Stefan, after his father, and he would most likely throw a fit because of it. But he forfeited his vote in the matter when he decided to run around the Kingswood rather than be there for the birth of his heir.

_____________

A day after you gave birth, the hunting party arrived back at the Red Keep. Robert found that you had not come to greet him, just as you could not be bothered by seeing him off either.

He stormed into the castle, rather annoyed at this perceived abandonment. He entered your chambers without bothering to knock and found you sleeping in bed.

Right as Robert is going to start yelling, you turn in your sleep, and it becomes obvious to him that you are no longer with the child. A pang of fear echoes through him until he hears a soft coo and finds a child beside your bed in a cradle. The baby had a head of black curls and blue eyes and was rather large. The child had wiggled out of his swaddle while you slept soundly and was waving his small fists about.

"Hello," Robert says. He's utterly captivated by the little life that he played a part in creating.

He reaches a large hand out to the child and softly pets the head of black curls. The child gurgles contently at the touch of its father.

"His name is Alaric," you said, breaking the king's trance.

"I should have been here," Robert says.

The man had the decency to look ashamed of himself. You nearly tell him it's okay, but you know it's far from okay for a father to miss the birth of his first trueborn child.

"Moving forward, things will need to change," you reply and sit up.

Robert finally looks you in the eye. He seems hesitant about your remark.

"I cannot live a life where my husband and I are constantly at each other's throats. I don't want our son to be raised by parents who can't stand each other," you say.

You look at your son in his cradle and can't help but smile at him.

"What are we to do about it?" Robert asks, still skeptical.

"We shall dine together three times a week, and I would like to share our chambers. In the North, it is custom that a husband and wife share bedchambers, and I believe it will bring us closer," you said.

Robert looks at your face; your eyes are shining with optimism. You truly were willing to learn how to love him. Why couldn't he grant you this one thing?

"Okay," he said.

You're silent for a moment, somewhat shocked that Robert didn't try to put up any sort of fight. Not knowing what else to say, you nod quickly.

You change the subject smoothly: "Would you like to hold your son?"

It's Robert's turn to nod like a fool now.

[deathbypufferfish]

~ click here to read the written story while you read this legacy post! It is under the cut as well ~

So many good things happened that night. Getting a fake relationship off your chest, coming out, touching. If only Ilya hadn't tried to kiss him. And if only he wasn't drunk enough that Haru had stop him. Maybe then Ilya wouldn't have run away and maybe then neither of their hearts would be broken. Too many things happened that night.

Full written scene under cut (word count: 1635)

Somewhere in-between Emi’s keg-stand and Joe’s flirting, Haru had lost track of Ilya.

What began as a simple scope around the room had quickly turned into a frantic search and a pit of anxiety in Haru’s stomach. The last time he saw Ilya he was downing his beer with fervor. It was something he had never seen before. He wondered if he had ever even seen him drink in the first place.  Anxious thought upon thought was stacking up in his brain when the most obvious location finally came to mind. His dorm room. 

The tower of thoughts toppled over and a new mixture of emotions arose. Anticipation and excitement. Haru had accepted weeks ago that things between him and the dancer would never be more than friendly, but the feelings he tucked away were hard to keep down. They haunted him at night and filled idle daydreams throughout the day. Imagining scenario after scenario. But that was all they were and all they ever could be, daydreams. He just needed to find Ilya already.

Once down the hall Haru could tell by the dim glow underneath his door that his bedside lamp was still on. He walked in and his hunch was confirmed. Ilya was sitting on the floor, his back leaned up against Haru’s bed, and his shoes were off . He lazily stroked the wooden grooves of the nightstand. Slowly and exaggerated. It was very apparent that he was drunk out of his mind.

“I’m sorry, I was looking at your stuff,” he slurred.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been looking at all your things. Like your pictures…and your books…” He barely spoke louder than a murmur. His fingers still traced the wood as he spoke.

“Oh, um, that’s alright.” Haru didn’t know what else to say. Not a single thing made sense to him right now. Ilya was drunk, in his room, and apparently perusing through his things. That pit of anxiety returned with a vengeance. Ilya finally turned to look at him. His eyes were red. His shirt collar was wet with tears. Haru’s actions came to him so naturally after that.

He let him help him off the floor and onto his bed. There was no protest or drunken apologies. Ilya simply stared at him with an expression that felt so blank and yet so sad. His gaze felt heavy on him. Intrusive even.

He knelt to the ground and grabbed his shoes. Without even thinking, he began to put them back on Ilya. He immediately felt like such a fool, but it was too late. Stopping now would be worse, right? Right? As he tied his laces he dared to take a peek up at Ilya’s face. He was covering his face with both of his hands, but Haru could still see furious blushing on the tips of his ears. He finished tying his shoes as quickly as possible as the blood rushed to his own face as well.

Haru sat next to Ilya on his bed at a respectful distance, and they both sat in silence for an uncomfortable minute or so. Ilya shifted back and forth every once and a while, seemingly always on the edge of saying something. At last he spoke in just a soft enough whisper to hear.

“I’ve never had a friend like you.”

“What do you mean?” Haru turned to look at him, but still found him evading his gaze. Ilya rubbed his hands along the knees of his jeans. Slowly feeling the rough fabric slide to and fro underneath his palms. Haru thought it almost sounded like the rolling of waves along a shore. Every sentence seemed to take him a great deal of time to form and think through. Whether it was the alcohol or nerves, Haru couldn’t tell.

“I mean, I’m close with Katya, but not like I am with you.”

“Well, she’s your girlfriend. Of course it would be different.”

“No, no, it’s not different,” he snapped. “She's not actually my girlfriend.”

Ilya squeezed his eyes shut and clenched the fabric in his hands. What was he talking about? Did they break up? Haru had seen them talking to each other just an hour ago. If he was honest, he hadn’t been watching them that closely. He’d rather not see his unrequited crush talk to his girlfriend, but he would have at least noticed any domestic tension.

The reality of Ilya’s confession dawned on him. They weren’t in a real relationship and maybe never were. They were faking it. When he looked at it under this lens, he realized that they never truly interacted as a couple. Of course, except when Katya would kiss Ilya in front of him. Maybe it was for show. Maybe it was Katya’s disdain for Haru. But Ilya had just confessed that their relationship was never truly romantic. More than that, Haru thought about what this may mean for Ilya’s sexuality.

“Oh…I see.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he whispered.

Ilya finally turned to look at him. They were closer together than Haru initially realized. He couldn’t help but examine every mole, every crease, every detail of his sorrowful, yet beautiful face. It was hard to breathe in such close proximity. The hugs they had shared before felt prudish in the shadow of this intimacy.

He tried to deny it, but he felt as if Ilya was doing the same thing. The way he was leaning in, the way his chest heaved with his shallow breaths. That far-fetched idea of him loving him back felt so tangible all of a sudden. And it was terrifying

“It’s okay. You could have never told me, and it would still be okay,” he whispered back. “I care about you.”

Ilya opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His face was burning red again. His eyes wide and dilated. Haru couldn’t bear it, being so close. It was pure torture. As his stomach flipped and the heat rose in his chest he took his chance and laid a soft hand over Ilya’s.

It was stiff and terribly awkward at first. Ilya had frozen so quickly you would think he would shatter. Haru was wondering if he had made a grave mistake when Ilya’s deep breath interrupted him. In just a moment more he mellowed under his touch, simply letting his hand lay atop his own. For a moment everything fell still. They did not speak, they just sat in each other’s presence. After a while things began to feel tense again, overwhelming even, so Haru broke the silence.

“How about we get you some coffee?” he said.

Ilya was still staring at the floor, but a small smile had crept up onto his stern face. He nodded. Haru stood up and tried to gain his composure before leaving the privacy of his dorm room. Ilya followed suit, but wobbled at his own sudden movement. Haru grabbed his elbow and steadied him with a soft chuckle. Coffee was a requirement at this point. Ilya stared at Haru's hand on his arm and before Haru could even react he found himself in his arms.

Sure they had hugged before, but it was fleeting and friendly. This was something else entirely. Ilya was practically hanging off him, pressing most of his weight into their embrace. He pressed his face into his shoulder and sighed. Haru could have passed out right then and there. This entire night was threatening his ability to stay conscious, honestly. It was worth it, he decided, and pressed his cheek to the top of the shorter man’s head. His curls tickled his nose. It was hard to not think about how much he loved him.

Ilya pulled away only slightly, their faces mere inches apart. He leaned in further. Their lips had only barely made contact when Haru had brought a hand up to his chest. He pushed him away as gently as he could. He was drunk, too drunk, but those words could not get out faster than Ilya's face fell. Complete and utter horror.

”No, Ilya, please wait! I love you, I do!”

It was too late. Ilya bent his head under the weight of his shame. He shoved him off so hard Haru stumbled into the nightstand, knocking the lamp onto its side. He grabbed at Ilya’s sleeve, tears streaming down his face, but Ilya shook him off once again.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

His voice was layered with so much emotion it pierced Haru’s heart like a dagger. It was over. He humiliated him. He had humiliated himself. 

Ilya slammed the door shut in his escape. Haru ran after him, but lingered as he reached for the doorknob. He couldn’t run after him in the midst of the party. It would just have made things worse, much worse. He knew this, yet it took everything in him to not open that door and chase after him anyways. To tell him how much he loved him. How he didn’t want him to have any regrets about their first kiss being a drunk, crying mess. He couldn’t tell if it was the right or wrong thing to do. The heartbreak had crippled any logical thought or reason he could have come up with. It didn’t matter anymore.

He slid down the door as the floodgates opened up. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to even think through the sobs that tore through him. The banging at the door began as Emi shouted at him to move out of the way in-between asking what happened. Eventually he would let her in and eventually he would stop crying, but for now all he could do was lay down and hope he would sink into the floor. Into nothing. Never to be seen again.

[vulturv0lans]

If it's not too much to ask, can we have a soft dom diluc gently guiding a shy sub reader through her first time? (In desperate need of tooth rotting fluff and diluc being sweet lmaoo [with lots of praise ofc])

ok you know what anon i have been looking for something like this but i haven't found too many,,,thank you for the request!

word count: 2,960 (i got carried away again oops) tags: first time, references to diluc’s father/backstory/official manga, soft dom diluc, lots of love and affection and just overall sappy, porn with plot (lots of it), me crying (also lots of it)

m.list | diluc m.list | rules | inbox

the air is salty by the lake and his door rusty, yet you’re sure you’ve never need anything more.

when diluc brought you back to the winery for the first time, this was not what he had in mind. he had simply wanted to show you more, parts of him he had long hidden beneath the layers of his clothing and layers of walls he built up. but you are his lover now. you meet the maids that have been with him since he was a child, browse through the volumes that his father left behind, breathe the same air that he has always breathed inside the estate.

he was not planning to take you right there, on the four posted bed he claims but seldom occupies, on the second floor of the winery.

diluc was hesitant at first, leading you into the one place he holds closest to his heart. the master bedroom has not seen a visitor in ages. even the maids rarely enter except when they are asked to, because within these gilded walls and draped curtains is where diluc can truly feel at ease, no “mondstadt wine tycoon” or “master of dawn winery” or even “darknight hero” attached.

and before your eyes, he feels just as bare.

you had taken a seat at the edge of his mattress, arms supporting your weight as your eyes take in the surroundings. the wallpaper is a dark crimson red, damask patterns painted in black. the thick velvet of the curtains match the crimson in colour, yet the light seeping through the fabric and reflecting off of the golden tassels that touch the floor. the furnishings are simple, the large room otherwise empty save for a mirror, a wardrobe, a fireplace, and a desk filled with books.

yet it’s the paintings on the walls that catch your eye. one of them can easily be discerned as an exterior sketch of dawn winery, its signature red roofs a stark contrast to the rows of green underneath. off on the other wall is a portrait. a tall, greying man poses in the middle with two younger boys to either side of him, one with hair as blue as the twilight skies, and the other with hair red as blazing fire.

diluc follows your gaze to the painting, and suddenly the room feels too hot. before he can open his mouth to change the topic, you have already turned to him with an inquisitive look in your eye, and his heart softens. he cannot say no to you.

“that’s your father, isn’t it?”

he nods, choosing to offer no further explanation.

“what was he like?”

your voice is gentle, yet he is still taken aback. seldom anyone wants to know what crepus was like as a person, beyond just his title and position. for a few moments diluc is silent, pondering his answer. how could he summarize the greatest man he’s ever known into a couple simple sentences?

“he was kind. and very, very brave.” he says at last, “he made me the man that i am today.”

“i’m sure he was a great father,” you say quietly, not wanting to press further. diluc must have his reasons behind not wanting to tell the full story yet, and you’ll give him time. as much time as he needs.

“he was.”

when he looks at you again, your frame so small against the posts on his bed, he feels an unnameable emotion surging through him. you’re studying the painting with such an intense focus, as if trying to hear the voice of a man you’ve never met, trying to understand what others fail to even notice.

and in that moment, diluc is sure he has never been more in love.

he closes the distance between you in two quick strides, and you look up at him in surprise. he intertwines your fingers before pulling you up to your feet, your body pressing flush against his as you find your balance.

“can i kiss you?”

you smile at his question. diluc, ever the gentleman. even several months into your relationship he still asks for permission, and still kisses you like it was the first time.

it’s your turn to close the gap between you now, lips meeting his in a soft kiss. his hands find their way down the small of your back, then up your spine before settling on your cheeks, fingers tangled in your hair as he pulls you even closer, until you can feel every beat of his heart on your skin.

“i love you.” he whispers against your lips when he finally breaks the kiss for air.

“i love you, too,” you echo, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him again, hands clutching his arms for support. diluc feels his skin burn wherever your hands have been, and his love and tenderness suddenly becomes something more.

deepening the kiss, he backs you up until your legs hit the edge of the bed, before your entire person falls backwards into the plush mattress. you pull him down with you, until barely any space is left between his large frame and your own, smaller one.

he smooths out the stray baby hairs on your forehead before resting his against it, eyes searching yours for any signs of discomfort. you both know where this is leading, but diluc wants to be certain, absolutely certain that you're okay with this.

"are you sure?"

you nod before you have time to think. this is a step you're willing to take, and there's no one else you'd rather share it with. even so, small bubbles of anxiety rise from your stomach. will it hurt? will you be able to enjoy this? will he be satisfied, even with your lack of experience?

if diluc could hear your thoughts right now, he would be quick in dismissing them as the most preposterous ones he's ever heard. it would pain him to know that you’d ever fear of not satisfying him, even when he would put you and your pleasures before so much as thinking about himself.

you could never disappoint him, this he knows.

his lips find yours again and your doubts dissipate like the dark clouds after a storm. wandering hands begin unbuttoning and untying every piece of fabric in your way, desperate to reduce the layers keeping you from feeling his bare skin. your clothing clatter as they fall to the ground, diluc barely separating from you to discard his shirt before lowering back down to kiss you, not wanting to part from you for a second longer than necessary.

he's hungry for more, for you.

your hands find purchase on his toned arms, his skin almost too warm under your fingertips. he mumbles something that remotely resembles "off" into your mouth, and you comply almost too quickly, lifting your arms so he could take off your shirt and your bra.

diluc forces himself to hold back when your skin is fully exposed to him. lips glistening and chest heaving, you have never looked more beautiful to him, and he makes sure you know it. dipping his head to your neck, he trails a line of hot kisses down to your breasts, words of praise between every kiss permanently etched into your skin.

"you're breathtaking."

your face heats up as he slots himself in between your legs, hand lowering to your waist. your heart beats too loudly now, focus glued to his fingers hooking into your belt loops before quickly undoing the button on your pants. fiery eyes, hooded by lust and desire, search for confirmation, and you grant it. how could you not, when you burn for him so much?

diluc can’t help but groan out when your bottom half becomes exposed. his attention is quickly taken away by the thin material of your panties, damp and clinging to the wetness pooling between your legs, and he feels the sudden urge to bury his face there.

he runs a finger down your clothed folds and you jump, legs clamping together to relieve some of the pressure. with a hand on your knee, he holds your legs open to allow himself better access to where you need him the most. gently, he moves the soaked panties to the side, and the man fully has to sit back on his heels to drink in the sight before his eyes.

you’re so pretty, so sweet, so vulnerable for him, legs spread and pussy glistening with your arousal, all for him and him only.

he curses under his breath, heart swelling at how lucky he feels to be the one admiring your naked form. ignoring the increasingly uncomfortable bulge in his pants, he dives in like a man starved, flattening his tongue against your pussy to get his first real taste of you.

your back arches off the bed at the sudden contact, diluc’s moan of satisfaction sending delicious vibrations into the deepest parts of your body. his tongue works fast magic on your cunt, licking and sucking and kissing like you’re a five course meal, the slurping sounds in perfect harmony with your soft pants of pleasure.

“fuck, you taste so good, baby.”

the satin of his bedsheet is wrinkled and twisted in your palms as you grip onto it, diluc’s hands quickly reaching up to find yours, your fingers interlacing as he eats you out, the moment so intimate that for a moment you forget the vulgarity of it all and just enjoy being so close to him, physically and emotionally.

you’re growing close, and diluc knows it. despite his pussydrunk state, he forces himself to pull away, his chin now coated with your wetness, before shifting his body up to kiss you again. you moan into his mouth as you taste yourself, obediently granting access to his tongue when it swipes across your bottom lip. the room feels ten degrees hotter and it becomes harder and harder to breathe, until your need for oxygen finally overpowers your desire for him.

diluc’s eyes are alert when you gently push on his chest, his first thought being he’s done something you did not like. gently cradling his face in your hands, you say with a blissful smile the words he’s been longing to hear for so long.

“i need you, diluc.”

his last line of defense snaps and he lets his primal instincts take over, quickly ridding himself of his pants and undergarments before settling you against the plush pillows.

“are you absolutely sure-”

“yes.” you cut him off before he can finish, and diluc‘s ever-present confidence begins to waver. he needs this to be perfect for you.

swallowing thickly, he lines himself up at your entrance. you mirror his gulp as you notice for the first time how big he is, thick and girthy against your tiny hole.

“tell me if it hurts, please,” he asks, so much genuine guilt in his voice that you can’t refuse him an answer.

you yelp in pain when he starts to push in, his body immediately tensing up. only when you repeatedly reaffirm that you’re okay does he continue, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your collarbones and whispering apologies and affirmations into your skin as he slowly sinks into you, until he’s completely buried inside you.

“you’re doing so good baby, yeah? that’s it.”

he stills for a moment to let you adjust. but selfishly he wishes to revel in your tightness and warmth for a little longer, your walls so snug against his cock like they were made just for him. he already can’t get enough, and he hasn’t even started moving yet.

you’re the one to initiate the kiss this time, silently giving him permission to move. his thrusts are slow and steady, the tip of his cock dragging against every nerve ending inside you, sending electric sparks throughout your body.

“so tight for me,” he grunts as he picks up his pace, trying to control his movements as to not hurt you, even though a part of him wants to slam into you and fuck you until you’re reduce to a babbling mess begging for his cock. but one look at your face and he feels immediate guilt at his sinful thoughts. you’re so innocent beneath him, bottom lip caught between your teeth and your face scrunched up in pleasure.

he can’t ruin you yet.

soft moans tumble past your parted lips as he reaches down to rub fast circles on your clit. every last cell in your body feels like it’s on fire, the pleasure amplified tenfold from being in the presence of your lover, better than your own fingers could ever satisfy yourself.

you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in even further, and diluc’s honour is reduced to barely hanging on by a thread.

“you’re taking me so good. so good for me.” he praises and you feel yourself gush around him, his words turning you on even further. it seems your earlier doubts were unnecessary, after all. you grow bolder, reaching up to dig your nails into his back, leaving red marks that claimed him as yours.

the stinging pain from your nails scratching against his skin sends diluc into another wave of euphoria, and he can’t hold himself back much longer. with a low grunt, he pins your wrists down above your head, dark eyes studying the microscopic changes in your expression as your hands are suddenly rendered useless, held down so submissively and at his mercy.

his eyes are fixated on the round of your breasts, bouncing so deliciously to the rhythm of his thrusts. a sudden clench of your cunt almost sends him collapsing on top of you, the tight grip he had maintained on your wrists now faltering from the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him. he curses, the profanity soon turning into praise again at how good you’re taking him, how pretty you looks, and how much he loves you, his words almost doing more to build the knot in your stomach than his steady, deep thrusts.

he leans back to sit on his heels as he lets go of your wrists, moving to hold your legs above his shoulders. you cry out when his cock hits your most sensitive spot from the new position, the sheets once again wrinkled under your tight grip now that your hands are free once again.

“fuck y/n, i’m so close.”

you lift your hips to meet his thrusts half way, all the thoughts in your head replaced by your blinding desire for your release. diluc shifts his weight to hold your thighs open instead, leaning down so he can be close to you before he reaches his impending high. he wants to hold you, to hear you, to see you chase after your high.

your moans and cries are growing more frequent, each more high pitched than the last. they are music to diluc’s ears, music reserved only for him to hear, his own low grunts a perfect harmony.

“i’m so close- gonna cum- please-” you babble, tears dotting your lashes, and diluc has never seen a more beautiful sight.

the sudden warmth of his hand on your neck makes you jump. he doesn’t close his fingers around your throat (though you secretly wished he would), instead his touch is fleeting before moving to cup your face. you lean into him almost immediately, his thumb wiping the tears that escaped, down the smooth skin of your cheeks, and across your bottom lip. he’s hovering so close to you that you can see every freckle on his skin, lips mere centimetres from yours that his every exhale becomes your next inhale, so intimate that you find it hard to believe that he’s kissing you so sweetly while maintaining a relentless pace.

he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t hold back.

“cum for me,” he breathes into your parted lips, “i want to hear you.”

and you don’t need to be told twice. with a loud cry of his name you come undone around him, your slick quickly forming a ring of white at the base of his cock as he rides out your high, his pace becoming erratic and sloppy at the vice-like grip of your cunt.

“fuck,” he lets out a deep grunt as you repeatedly clench around him, the sound resonating from deep within his chest. his hands pat around the bed looking for yours, and soon after he locks your fingers together again he cums too, head buried in your shoulder and his cock shooting hot ropes into you, painting your walls white.

your legs are shaking as you come down from your high, your pussy so sensitive to any tiny movements that you almost cum again when he tries to pull out from you. the satin beneath you is soaked with a mix of both your essence, drops of white leaking from your sobbing hole when diluc finally pulls out.

he admires you in your post-orgasm glow, and not just at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and your pussy now moulded to the shape of him. it’s as if a soft silk has been draped over you, painting your features in glorious moonlight.

“you’re so beautiful.”

he breaks the silence that has enveloped you both while your breathing returned to normal.

you still find it foreign, the feeling of his compliments even as you’re spread out naked under him. as if sensing your disbelief, diluc repeats his words again, this time between wet kisses on your collarbone, etching his love for you into your body.

“so. beautiful,” he whispers into your skin, his heart swelling, “and all mine.”

note. me and who WHEN >:( also i hope you enjoy my subtle taylor swift reference at the beginning hehe m.list | diluc m.list | rules | inbox ♡

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