#i could write an essay on this but can’t really find the right words for it rn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smileysuh · 2 months ago

Text

deal maker

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, breast worship, pussy eating, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, cumming together, dry humping, foreplay, slight corruption kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) sweetheart.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 8.7k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, Halloween, supernatural/demon au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. Happy Halloween!

One: her

If it weren’t for the fact that you’re in the middle of a library, you might just scream. You know your workload increases with each year you’re in university, but there’s something sinister about the amount of book-related essays you have right before Halloween.

You’re doing your best to focus, and you’ve read the entirety of the ‘Frankenstein’ book that you’re supposed to be analyzing, but you just can’t find words.

A massive sigh escapes you, and your best friend, Hwasa, casts you a sideways glance. “You good, babes?” she asks.

“I just- I can’t do this,” you groan. “It’s a completely open ended prompt- I could write about anything I want to, and all things considered, five thousand words isn’t the longest essay ever- but, damn, I seriously can’t think right now.”

She nods sympathetically. “Do you really think you’re at rock bottom on this?”

“I don’t see how I could go any lower.”

“Okay, well,” she scoots her chair closer to you, her voice lowering, “i wouldn’t suggest this otherwise, but uh- have you ever thought about contacting the Sigma Veta Tau demon?”

“The what?” you stare at her blankly.

“Of course you wouldn’t know about him, you’re a goody goody,” Hwasa sighs. “Basically, there’s this guy in the SVT frat who makes deals and does your work for you.”

“What’s this have to do with being a demon?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just a weird myth- basically, this guy helped me with an essay last year worth thirty percent of my grade. All he asked for was a family heirloom, and I think it’s his weird choice of price for favours that get him the whole ‘demon’ thing cuz he doesn’t usually ask for money like other dudes who write your papers would.”

“How did you do? On the essay?” you ask.

“Got an A. He doesn’t overdo it, he does enough to get you a good grade but not so good it’s obvious you didn’t do the work.”

“So… is he an actual demon, or?” You cock your head to the side, trying to understand the whole demon relevance.

“Nah, like I said, he’s just some hot nerd who wrote my essay. It wasn’t sketchy at all.”

“And he does this for a lot of people?”

“I’ve heard about a few. I know his friend Dokyeom was close to failing his Kinesiology course and somehow Wonwoo did his final exam for him and helped him pass.”

You let out a small laugh. You’re familiar with the Sigma Veta Tau frat, and DK is a well known figure there- getting someone to help him pass Kinesiology is very characteristic to the loud gym bro. “Wait, but, how did Wonwoo pull it off? They ID you at the final exams, don’t they?”

Hwasa shrugs. “I guess the dude pulls off miracles every once in a blue moon, maybe that’s part of his ‘demonic’ reputation.”

“Are we sure this a good idea?” you ask.

“Making a deal with the Devil?” Hwasa clarifies. “Of course, what could go wrong?”

You laugh at her choice of words.

This Wonwoo guy definitely isn’t the Devil… and even if he was, what would making a deal with him even really include?

You’re skeptical to say the least, but looking back at your worn out book, and your laptop document open with zero words- you begin to wonder if maybe this Wonwoo guy is a good way to solve your current predicament.

Two:

Wonwoo quite enjoys living on campus. He loves the onslaught to his senses every time he’s out and about, mingling with university kids who have way too much on their plate. No one ever notices him, no one ever notices the things that are slightly… off about him, they’re much too busy focusing on this week’s term paper, or this week’s quiz.

No, Wonwoo’s extremely happy being exactly where he is. He’s lounging in a coffee shop that connects to the book store, his eyes darting from person to person, assessing-

That’s when his gaze locks with someone familiar.

Hwasa had come to him last year, needing an essay completed. It had been one of Wonwoo’s easier tasks, as he’s read the source material upwards of twenty times in his long life. He’s seen her around campus a few times since then, but she’s never approached him, not the way she is now.

“Hi, Wonwoo!” Hwasa grins, demenour as bubbly as ever.

The frat boy simply nods, his gaze turning to assess you as you stand next to your friend.

“This is y/n,” Hwasa introduces you. “She’s actually struggling with an essay right now-”

“Hate to hear about an academic struggle,” Wonwoo interrupts, “especially while enjoying my coffee.” His eyes return to you again. “If you ever need a tutor, you should swing by the frat.”

“I would appreciate that,” you nod, a little breathless.

It’s clear there’s something off about you too- your heard rate is going faster than the average rate, and you’re finding it difficult to meet his gaze.

Ah, things click in Wonwoo’s head, this particular set of responses isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with. Many girls react this way to him, getting ‘flustered,’ as humans would say.

However, what is unfamiliar, is the way Wonwoo himself is reacting to it. He finds it cute, endearing in a way- as opposed to the annoyed feeling he usually gets when women are easily infatuated with him.

“Here,” Wonwoo breathes smoothly, picking up a pen from his notepad. “Give me your hand.”

Your gaze flickers to Hwasa for a moment, and then you’re reaching forward. Wonwoo grasps your wrist, enjoying the warmth of your skin and the way you jolt from his touch. He quickly writes his phone number down on your inner palm. “Give me a call about tutoring you sometime, we can discuss details then.”

“O-okay,” you nod, immediately taking your hand back when he’s finished, cradling it close to your chest.

“If that’s all you two have to say to me,” Wonwoo breathes, looking between you and Hwasa, “I’d love to get back to my coffee.”

Three:

“Hey, I’m at the frat, where are you?” you ask as you answer your best friend’s call. You feel so awkward just standing here, trying to look like you belong even though you’re sure you stand out in the all boys frat village.

“Babes, I’m so sorry- I’m at this study group and it’s going mega late, I didn’t even realize the time and I’m across campus-”

You let out a sigh. “Are you seriously going to make me do this alone?”

“You’ll be fine!” Hwasa assures you. “Wonwoo won’t bite, it’s the daylight after all.”

She giggles, and you roll your eyes. You’re still not sure how you feel about this whole ‘demon’ thing, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little afraid to enter a fratboy den of wolves alone.

“You’ve got this,” Hwasa says again. “If you need anything, just text me, and remember, I stalk your snapchat location so if anything happens-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh. “Okay, I can do this.”

“That’s the spirit!”

You hang up on Hwasa, taking a deep breath and turning to the front door. You approach cautiously, raising your hand and knocking three times.

It takes a couple of moments, but eventually, a man opens the door. You recougnize Jeonghan, he’s the frat president’s right hand man, a business major with a reputation for hitting on every girl he meets.

“Well, look who it is,” Jeonghan grins, leaning against the doorframe with his shoulder while he shovels some cereal into his mouth from the bowl in his hand.

He’s in an oversized white shirt and sweatpants, you’d bet he hasn’t been to classes today- and fuck it, he looks handsome, all the SVT men do.

“Sorry, hi, I’m here for Wonwoo, but I don’t think we’ve actually met,” you say awkwardly, holding out a hand.

Jeonghan’s gaze falls to your extended palm, and he chuckles. “Wonwoo gets all the cute girls,” he says, moving away from the door frame to let you inside, “but none of them ever stick around.”

“I’m here to study,” you try to explain.

“Sure you are,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. You follow him through the entryway living space, pausing as he heads back into the connected kitchen. “Wonwoo’s room is the third floor, first door on the left.” You stand there for a few moments, and Jeonghan cocks his head to the side. “You have no clue where the stairs are, do you?”

“Nope.”

“That door,” he points with his spoon. “Don’t get lost.”

He’s a bit of an odd one, and with a final thank you, you scurry away, following his directions past a door and up three flights of stairs. You pause outside the first room on the left, swallowing thickly before you knock.

“Come in!” Wonwoo’s voice calls out.

Before you can push the door open, it opens by itself, and you half expect Wonwoo to be standing there- only to find him seated on his bed with a book in his hands.

He’s in a black hoodie and matching sweatpants. His hood is up, but his dark curls are poking out, toying with the rims of glasses that set of the sharp angles of his face.

“What was your name again?” he asks.

“Uh-” you cough. “Y/N.” The door opening by itself had freaked you out, and you wonder how true the whole demon thing is- God, that’s been on your mind a lot.

“Come in, relax, and tell me what I can do for you,” he instructs, using his foot to push out a chair near his bed.

You swallow thickly again, closing the door behind you and approaching. You take a seat, letting out a breath. “So basically I have an essay on Frankenstein- have you read it?”

“Of course. Have you?” he counters.

“Yeah, I’ve read it, but uh… anyways, it’s due on Halloween, which is two weeks away, and I have so many other essays to write-”

“What’s the topic?”

“Open ended.”

“How many words?”

“Five thousand.”

“That doesn’t seem very hard,” he muses with a grin, slotting a marker between his pages so he can rest his book on his chest, getting a better look at you.

“Usually it wouldn’t be, but I’m just blanking- I don’t even know where to start.” You release a stressed breath. “So I brought a family heirloom.”

Wonwoo just looks at you, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“Hwasa said she paid you last time with her grandmothe’rs broach?” you try to explain.

“My price is different for everyone,” Wonwoo tells you, holding out a hand. “Let’s see what you brought.”

“It’s my aunt’s.” You give the necklace to him. “She got it to me to celebrate graduating highschool and getting into university.”

Wonwoo inspects the delicate silver chain, looking at the crescent moon charm with an opal in the middle. “It’s obviously valuable,” he says, handing it back to you, “but I can tell it’s not very sentimental.”

“So…” you fidget with the necklace in your palm, “what do you want?”

Wonwoo’s eyes begin to scan your form, and suddenly you feel very uncomfortable. It’s as if he’s undressing you in his mind, and it makes you fidget in your seat. His gaze lands on your chest, and you fight the urge to cover your tits-

He sits up, reaching forward- You hold your breath as his fingers brush by your collar bones, too close to the swell of your breasts for your liking- and then he’s lifting your necklace, leaning even closer to inspect it.

You can feel his breath on your skin, and he’s so close- God, why is something as simple as this so erotic? You’ve dealt with pretty boys before, but there’s something about a pretty, nerdy, dangerous boy-

“Where did you get this?” he asks, thumb smoothing across the golden heart attached to the chain on your neck.

It’s hard to find your voice, but after a moment, you’re able to respond. “It was uh- it was from my last boyfriend.”

“An ex?” His gaze lifts to you.

“Yeah.” You can feel your skin heating.

“And you didn’t get rid of it?”

“I figure I bought him a bunch of stuff while we were dating, pretty sure this was only fifty bucks or something, so I guess I thought I deserved to keep it.”

Wonwoo nods. You watch his gaze dip to your lips, just for a moment, and then he’s releasing your necklace and leaning back into his bed again. “That will work.”

“It will?” you ask in shock.

“Uh huh. There’s a certain sort of sentimentality to it. Also… even though you say you kept it because you deserved it, buying him so many things or whatever, I think it’s a shame that a pretty girl like you is still holding onto something from the past, instead of looking at your future. I’ll take it off your hands, and you can progress now, with more than just your essay.”

You wonder what sort of motive Wonwoo has, what significance a necklace from your ex actually has on a man who’s practically a stranger.

“Okay,” you murmur, reaching behind your throat to undo the clasp. “So… how does this work now?”

“A five thousand word open ended essay on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein…” Wonwoo takes his glasses off, wiping them with his hoodie. “I guess, you give me some time to think it through, I text you, and you come see me again.”

You watch the way he puts his spectacles back onto his face- it’s shocking how small, simple, mundane motions can be so beautiful when completed by a man like him.

“Okay,” you nod. “I guess… I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“You will,” he agrees. “Bye for now.”

He relaxes against his pillows, lifting his book and immediately turning his attention to it.

You stand up and leave without another word, your heart racing in your chest.

Once you’re outside the frat house, you call Hwasa.

“So how did it go?” she asks. “He didn’t kill you, so that’s good news!”

“He also didn’t want the family heirloom,” you sigh.

“So what did he want?”

“My necklace, you know, the one from my ex.”

“That’s weird, why would he want that?”

“Hell if I know,” you groan. “Hwasa… he’s not an actual demon, right?”

“Of course not!” she laughs.

You wish you were as certain as she is. There’s definitely something otherworldly about Jeon Wonwoo, and one of these days, you’re going to put your finger on exactly what is different about him from any other man you’ve ever met.

Four:

Wonwoo is standing by his window, examining the necklace in his hand. It’s such a simple little thing, but there’s so much energy tied to it. Wonwoo can see the dark aura- a tie to a past that it’s clear you’d rather forget.

Usually, Wonwoo collects items with soul ties. Family heirlooms are the easiest, as they’re connected to multiple people in different generations. When one of those people with a soul connection to the item dies, Wonwoo deams if they’re a worthy enough spirit to take as payment for his favours.

In Hwasa’s case, both of her grandparents had died recently. The grandmother had gone first, followed quickly by the grandfather, and it was the older male that Wonwoo had chosen to take for himself. His soul had been dark, a signifier of the evil in his heart when he’d been on earth.

For a demon, Wonwoo actually likes humans. He only accepts contracts that allow him to collect on bad souls, souls that he deems worthy of eternal damnation.

Many of his kind have asked him why he’d chosen a university to call home, and in simple terms, it’s because at heart, Wonwoo has an erudite flecked soul. He loves learning, more than he’s ever loved being a demon.

He got to a point in his life where he figured, if he was going to be around forever, he might as well learn everything.

Besides all that, university is easy, students come to him, he hardly had to do any work. Students are always anxious, always busy and in need of support to get work done. They hardly think of the heirloom they pawned off to a frat boy in return for an essay or a test- and since Wonwoo waits for natural deaths to collect the souls tied to the items, there’s no harm no fowl.

With all of this being said, Wonwoo’s not used to taking an item like yours. There are only two souls tied to it, your own, and your ex boyfriend’s… Wonwoo knows which one he’ll collect.

He’s not sure why he feels protective of you… there’s just something in your aura that calls to him, something he can’t explain.

He knows that this job will be different, in more ways than one, but something inside of Wonwoo is ready for the change, after all, it’s been a very long time coming.

Five:

“You’re back,” Jeonghan muses when he opens the door to the frat for you. “That’s a first.”

“Hi,” you say meekly, forcing a smile. You’re still not sure how you feel about any of this, and knowing that what Wonwoo’s doing with you is unusual doesn’t help ease your anxieties.

“He’s in the kitchen,” Jeonghan sighs, opening the door wider so you can pass. As you move by him, a hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “He’s never cooked for anyone, so, just keep that in mind.”

God, these men are so odd-

You find Wonwoo in the kitchen, his back to you. He’s in a black t-shirt and it stretches tight across his broad shoulders. His curls are a little messy, as if he’s been sleeping, and when he turns to you, you find he’s not wearing his glasses.

Why is he just as pretty without glasses as he is with glasses?

This feels unfair. This feels like- well, it shouldn’t be legal, for starters.

“Hey.” Wonwoo flashes you a smile and you just about melt. You can feel your skin heating, and you hate how your body betrays you, betrays the inner lustings that take over every time you look at this nerdy hot frat boy.

“Hi,” you respond, feeling like a complete idiot as you approach Wonwoo.

“You hungry?” He looks down at the pan in front of him. “I’ve been making steak and eggs.”

“Actually, I’m really just here about the essay,” you try to explain.

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo focuses on the sunny side up egg he’s making, “Give me one sec.”

You watch him finish up his meal. You’re not used to watching a man cook, and you're surprised at how skilled he is. There’s something very attractive about the way he shovels the egg out of the pan, adding it to his plate with the finished steak.

“Okay, let’s go.” Wonwoo leads you back up to his room. He takes a seat at his work table. “You can go on the bed,” he suggests, cutting open an egg. You watch the orange yolk drip, the way he scoops some up with steak.

He’s way too attractive.

“You sure you don’t want any?” he asks. “It’s perfectly medium rare.”

“A little too rare for me,” you admit, immediately realizing your mistake. “It looks amazing, sorry, I’m just not hungry.”

“Sounds good. So let's talk your essay.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve decided I’m not going to write it for you.”

“What?” It feels like the air is knocked out of your chest, and you stare at Wonwoo in confusion. “But uh… you took my necklace, and you wrote Hwasa’s essay-”

“It’s busy season.” Wonwoo waves his fork around absentmindedly. “The deal is, you come here, we work together, and when you need help, I’ll help. When you need a final edit, I’ll final edit.”

“Uh…” Your mind is spinning. “If you’re not going to help, I can really just do it myself.”

“I think we both know my help will be important,” Wonwoo points out. “Look, you’re a good girl. Don’t you want to feel like you did it yourself? When you came here the first time, I noticed you were hesitant, I don’t think this is something you’re used to doing.”

“I’m not,” you admit, shocked at his ability to read you.

“With a five thousand word count, this will only take two or three hard study sessions top, in fact, since I have my steak and eggs, we can start now.”

“I didn’t even bring my book-”

“I’ve got a copy right here.” Wonwoo spins his chair, reaching for his bookshelf. He pulls out a worn version of Frankenstein, handing it to you. “I’ve got notes in here, if you want to flip through it, I’m sure you’ll find something to inspire your essay.”

You take a deep breath.

Should you do this? Should you sit here and study with him? What was the point of giving him your necklace if he’s not going to write it for you?

“You’ll keep me on track?” you ask.

Wonwoo offers you a lopsided grin. “Uh huh.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Six:

It’s your second session with Wonwoo. You’ve been carrying his version of Frankenstein around like a bible- the notes, carefully hand written into the margins, are so insightful and inspiring. At this point, you’ve reread the whole book just to get a chance to understand Wonwoo’s musings on every page.

You feel alight with determination, and your thoughts feel focused- you’re as focused with Wonwoo as you’ve ever been, which feels odd given how distracting he is.

It’s intimate in a way, to be so close to him, doing your own work while sharing a space-

Your phone buzzes, breaking your concentration.

Wonwoo looks up at you, pausing his reading. “Who’s that, your boyfriend?”

You let out a small laugh. “Just Hwasa checking in on me to make sure I’m okay with our tutoring session, you’ve got a reputation you know.”

“Do I?” Wonwoo grins, resting his book on his abdomen.

“Uh huh, people say you’re a demon or something. Apparently coming here for help with school is a deal with the devil.”

Wonwoo laughs. “That’s definitely a theory. What do you think?”

“At the moment, I’m not quite sure,” you admit. “All I know is, you’re helping me with this essay, and that’s what matters.”

“You know how you can check if I’m a demon?” Wonwoo asks.

“How?”

“Come touch my head, see if there are any horns.”

Wonwoo is giving you a challenging look, and for some reason, you can’t resist.

You put your laptop to the side, sitting up. “Really?”

“Like I said, only one way to find out if I’m a demon.”

You move toward him, standing off the bed to approach where he’s seated at his desk. “Honestly… maybe this isn’t the best idea. I trust you, I don’t have to feel your head for horns.”

“I really wish you would though,” Wonwoo counters, and there’s a serious edge to his tone. His eyes are bright, looking up at you. It’s like you’re suspended in time and space, staring at each other, holding your breaths.

You reach toward his head, in the back of your mind, you’re worried he might bite you- but Wonwoo stays perfectly still. He watches your every movement, and soon, your fingers are smoothing through his curls.

Wonwoo holds back a groan at the feeling of your touch. He wants to lean in toward you, but doesn’t want to scare you off. It’s clear to him from your body language that you’re as hesitant about this as you had been when you’d first come to him for help with your essay.

You’re so soft, so pure, and he loves it.

He can hear your heart beginning to thunder in your chest as you smooth around his head, searching for horns.

God, humans are so gullible, but it’s adorable when it’s you being this way.

“Okay, no horns,” you confirm, tearing your hand back like you’ve just been burned.

You turn away, returning to his bed, and Wonwoo can practically feel the heat coming off of you.

“Get back to work,” he says softly, loving the way he gets to sneak looks at you while you’re deep in thought.

This arrangement is too perfect- Wonwoo hates that it will soon be coming to an end. You’ve been very productive, and as much as he’d like to take credit for it, it’s your own doing.

In some odd way, he’s proud of you, and it’s a feeling he’s never quite experienced before.

Seven:

You can’t believe it’s your final session with your ‘tutor’. The amount you’ve gotten done in two separate days with Wonwoo is ridiculous-

He’s your lucky charm, and it’s odd how much someone can come to mean to you in such a short time.

“Okay,” you sigh, finishing your last line of work. “I’m done.”

“Time for edits then,” Wonwoo responds, slotting a bookmark into what he’s reading before descarding the novel on his sidetable. He approaches you, sitting onto the bed. He’s so close that you can feel his shoulder against yours. He’s so warm, in the best of ways.

He’s reading over your shoulder, and you can feel his breath on your skin. God, this closeness is doing something to you- your pussy is actually beginning to throb, and it’s becoming uncomfortable.

“Here.” You hand your laptop over to him, watching anxiously as he begins to read your essay from the top.

You’re so focused on him- each second feels like an eternity as he makes his way through your writing, discussing small edits with you as he goes through it.

“This is good,” Wonwoo muses, making it all the way to the end. “You did really well, and with two days to spare. I’m proud of you.”

“Guess I don’t have to be stressed for Halloween,” you grin, releasing a deep breath.

“Speaking of, do you have any plans?”

“I haven’t even thought that far ahead,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, if nothing else, we throw a great frat party, you’re more than welcome to come.”

“You know what?” You stretch your arms above your head, releasing a deep breath. “I might just stop by.”

Eight:

Wonwoo’s walking through campus when he senses something- and that something can only ever be you. He’s become accustomed to your aura, and his gaze immediately finds you, heading across the green with a friend by your side.

Your eyes meet, and Wonwoo flashes you a smile, not expecting anything to come of it.

He’s surprised when you approach, calling his name. “Wonwoo! Oh my gosh, hi!”

“Hey,” he grins, stopping in his tracks to give you a once over. He wishes he could be more subtle about his attraction to you, but by the way you take him in, it’s clear that it’s not something that’s one sided.

“Yeji, this is the tutor I was telling you about! He helped me finish my essay in three sessions.”

“It was really more like two,” Wonwoo corrects you, then his eyes find your friend. “She did all the work, believe me.”

“Yeah, after I read your notes on the book,” you grin. “He’s not even an English major, but he picks up more details in novels than I ever could.”

Wonwoo’s not used to compliments like this, especially not from pretty girls. Most just accept his work and figure their payment was a job well done enough. He doesn’t even know how to respond, and for a demon of his age, this sort of thing never happens.

You’re so pure and sweet- God, he likes you so much. But there’s something beneath the attraction, there’s a want- a want to corrupt you, a want to see how far you’ll go for him, how dirty you’ll be just for him.

“Are you two coming to the party tomorrow?” Wonwoo asks, finding a way to divert the attention away from himself.

You and Yeji exchange a look, and it’s your friend who nods. “We’ll be there.”

Nine:

You don’t go to frats often, but your attraction to Wonwoo drives you through the front doors of the packed house. Everyone is dressed accordingly, and you take a moment just to appreciate the ambiance. Sure, it’s sweaty, and overwhelming, and the flashing lights are a bit much, but it feels like a community, in some sort of odd way.

You’re heading through the crowd of bodies with Hwasa when someone grabs your arm, and you’re shocked to find Jeonghan standing there. He’s dressed as a zombie of some sort, and despite the fake grime on his face, he’s still very handsome.

“Hey, repeat offender,” he grins, leaning close so you can hear him over the loud music.

“Repeat offender?” you ask.

“Yeah, you’re Wonwoo’s chick now, our little repeat offender.” He’s charming, in an interesting sort of way. “Bet you’re looking for him.”

“Is he around?”

“He’s the dickhead in the oni mask, making a drink in the kitchen.”

“Thank you.”

You follow Jeonghan’s directions, approaching the kitchen. It’s as full of bodies as you’ve ever seen it, but despite that, finding Wonwoo is easy.

He’s tall, and even with his back to you, you’d recougnize his shoulders anywhere.

“So how are you doing this?” Hwasa asks.

“I’m just going to go talk to him.”

“Do you need backup?”

Your eyes shift to Wonwoo again, and you find a smile appearing on your face. “Honestly, I think I’ll be alright.”

“If you need anything, just scream ‘hamburger’.”

“Why?”

“It’s my safe word,” Hwasa teases, flashing you a wink before she disappears into the crowd of people dancing.

You take a deep breath, mustering your courage to approach the hot nerd.

You move toward him slowly, coming to a stop at his side. You don’t even have to say anything, he notices you immediately, turning to assess you.

His handsome face is covered with an oni mask, and it’s a little more frightening than you’d been anticipating, especially with his wild dark curls. Oni are Japanese demons, it has horns and fangs-

“Hi,” he says, and you can hardly hear him from under the mask.

“You’re really leaning into the whole demon thing, aren’t you?” you force a laugh.

You hear Wonwoo chuckle, and then he’s pulling the oni mask off. “Are you more comfortable now?”

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “Actually, I think I’d also be more comfortable with a drink.”

“How much have you had already?”

“Just had a bit of a pre with Hwasa, why?”

“I guess…” he faces you, crossing his large arms over his broad chest, “when I make a move on you tonight, since our arrangement is done, I want to make sure you reciprocate, sound of mind.”

You look up at him in shock, unable to find any words with which to respond.

Wonwoo grins when you remain dumbfounded for a few seconds. “You’re cute.”

“I am?”

“More than you realize.”

“And you’re… you’re going to make a move on me?”

“Was thinking about it.”

“What would the move look like?”

“Should I tell you? Or would you rather I show you?”

God, why is he so hot? Why does he always know what to say? And why does his smirk look extra sexy with his slightly pointed canines? Why haven’t you realized his teeth were pointy before? You suppose he doesn’t smile enough for you to have picked up on details, but now, you’re looking at him, unhindered by shyness and limits of a tutor/semi-student relationship.

Wonwoo pulls you closer by your hips, staring down at you. “I’m going to need a verbal answer, Sweetheart.”

“Show me,” you tell him.

Wonwoo’s grin widens, and one of his hands moves from your hip to your cheek, cupping your face. His thumb brushes by your cheekbone, and it’s such a loving motion- it’s as if the entire frat party disappears around you. You’re so focused on him that you can hardly breathe.

Wonwoo moves closer, and you an feel his breath on your face. His lips are incredibly close, so close you could kiss him yourself- but you stay frozen, waiting on him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Wonwoo asks teasingly.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

He chuckles, and then, he presses his lips to your own, cradling you even closer with the hand on your cheek. His other palm finds the small of your back, tugging you to his chest. You find your grip going to his shoulders, exploring the muscles you’ve been thirsting over.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you open wider to accept him in, a small groan slipping out of you.

God, he’s such a good kisser- you’re completely lost in him.

In the periphery, music is thrumming through you, but it’s muffled, disappearing as you fall deeper under the spell of Wonwoo’s kiss.

Things are getting hot and heavy fast, and you can’t even find it within yourself to be embarrassed that you’re making out with Wonwoo while surrounded by people, besides, something tells you they won’t care.

You can feel something on your lower abdomen, a pressure- and you realize that just kissing you has made Wonwoo hard in his jeans.

Your pussy throbs, so turned on that you can hardly breathe. You break the kiss, gasping. “Your room?”

“Not right now,” comes his immediate response.

“What?” You can’t help the way you feel crushed at the rejection-

“Not with the party,” Wonwoo clarifies. “I want to take my time with you, want you to be comfortable- having people fucking around outside my room while I’m exploring you isn’t my idea of a great first time.”

“That actually makes sense,” you concede.

“But… I’m okay to keep doing this,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then his mouth begins to move down to your throat, his tongue tasting your sweet spot.

You release a moan, wrapping your arms around the tall nerd. “Yeah, we can keep doing this.”

Ten:

Wonwoo carefully walks to the kitchen, avoiding spilled liquor on the floor from the party the night before. He’s so focused on his footsteps that he almost doesn’t notice Jeonghan’s aura until he’s right next to him.

The frat boy is sitting on the kitchen counter, eating his cereal. “So…” Jeonghan muses with a grin, “that girl, huh?”

“What girl?” Wonwoo sighs.

Jeonghan scoffs loudly, rolling his eyes. “The one you were making out with at the party for hours. You know, the one that keeps coming here for ‘tutoring.’”

“I helped her with an essay.”

“Sure you did.” Jeonghan pushes off the kitchen counter. “It’s cute, our resident demon has a heart.”

Wonwoo freezes, realizing that Jeonghan might be onto something, but he’ll never admit it out loud. “No, I don’t.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Eleven:

“Well look who it is,” Jeonghan grins as he opens the door to the frat. You wonder why it’s always him, why no one else is ever hanging around the living room, but you decide it’s best not to dwell on it.

“Hi,” you smile softly.

“Guessing you know where to go,” Jeonghan muses, opening the door wider so you can enter.

With one more nod to the frat boy, you make your way to Wonwoo’s room.

You knock on the door, and like the very first time you’d been here, it swings open with ease. Wonwoo’s sitting on his bed, a book in his hands. He’s wearing his glasses, and he looks so sexy like this, so domestic-

“Happy November,” Wonwoo says.

You laugh. “Happy November.” You close the door behind yourself, standing there awkwardly. You know what you’re here for, know what you want from him now that your essay is complete- “You’re not practicing, you know, No Nut November, or anything, are you?”

Wonwoo laughs, setting his book down on his bedside table along with his glasses. “No, I’m not practicing No Nut November.”

“Good.”

Wonwoo’s grin widens. “Get over here.”

You make your way to the bed, sitting carefully next to him. “What were you reading?”

“Dante’s Inferno,” he responds casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to be reading poetry from the thirteen hundreds.

“Wow,” you laugh, “that definitely pushes the whole demon angle.”

“I’m a deal maker, Sweetheart, the whole demon thing is overdone.” He wraps his arm around you, prompting you to cuddle up to his chest.

“And yet, your door opens on its own,” you point out.

“And?”

“As crazy as this sounds…” you take a deep breath, “I guess I’m wondering if there’s any… legitimacy to the whole demon thing.”

“How would you feel if there was?” he counters.

“I suppose I wouldn’t believe it, not really.”

“Then what’s the point in asking?”

“Maybe there’s no point.” You look up at him, marveling at his handsome features.

“So kiss me and forget about it,” he prompts, his fingers finding the bottom of your chin and making you look up at him.

“Sounds like a plan,” you smile, closing the gap between your lips.

He holds you tighter as your lips mesh, half pulling you onto his chest as his tongue explores your own. God, he still feels so good- part of you had wondered if you’d been a little tipsy the last time you kissed him, and that’s why it had felt so good- but no, this is just Wonwoo, this is just the power he has over you.

You adjust so you’re straddling him, his hands finding your hips to encourage you while you cup his face, enjoying the feeling.

You begin to wiggle, grinding down softly onto him. His cock is already hardening in his sweatpants- you love how easy it is to turn him on. It does wonders for your ego as you dry hump him, beginning to moan at the sensation on your clit.

You’re not usually this type of person, not the mega-sexual, but something about Wonwoo is making you feral. It helps that you both know why you’re here- helps that he’d rescheduled this fuck session so you wouldn’t be having your first time with a wild Halloween rager just outside his door.

Things are just comfortable with him, it’s clear you’re both extremely attracted to each other, and that turns you on even more.

One of his hands begins to glide up from your waist, skimming the underwire of your bra. You move his palm even further up, so he’s grasping your breast, and he squeezes deliciously, earning a soft moan from your lips.

Wonwoo grins into your kiss, his free hand cupping the back of your neck, forcing you even closer as he massages your chest.

You grind harder onto his cock, loving the feeling-

One flip has Wonwoo on top of you, and you whimper at the change in power dynamics. He moves his hips fluidly, applying more pressure to your already throbbing clit-

Wonwoo pulls away from your throat, looking down at you with dark eyes. “So do I need to grab a condom, Sweetheart?”

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him. “Are you clean?”

“I’m clean, are you?”

“Yeah.” You lean closer, eagerly pressing your lips to his again. You’re so lost in him, nothing else matters.

Wonwoo’s hands begin to explore you again, and then he pulls away to tug on your shirt. “Off.”

You sit up, removing the fabric, exposing your bra to him.

Wonwoo looks down at you with lust filled eyes. “You’re so pretty, Sweetheart.” His fingers tease the strap of your bra. “How’d a pretty little thing like you ever find your way to me?”

“The essay-”

“You’re so innocent though, I could tell from the moment I met you. You wouldn’t have come to me if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“No, I don’t cheat.”

“And you still don’t, you did the whole essay yourself.”

“With help from you,” you blush.

“No, Sweetheart, it was all you.” Wonwoo kisses you again, shutting up any argument you have about using his notes.

He makes you feel so good- it’s such a safe space, and it’s the type of situation you’re not used to. The lack of judgement, the complete support- it helps you relax, helps you get even further lost in his kiss as you make out, the both of you wriggling and grinding against each other. You love the feeling of his body, the feeling of being here with him, completely enraptured mind and soul.

Wonwoo’s lips trail down to your throat, and he begins to descend. He reaches your chest, and you breathe heavily, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his lips.

His fingers hook in the cup of your bra, and he pauses to look up at you, as if he’s asking for your permission. “Do it,” you tell him, trying to catch your breath.

Wonwoo grins, pulling your bra down so he can access your tits fully. His tongue flicks at your sensitive nipple, and you groan at the sensation, arching your back to push your chest closer to his face.

Wonwoo’s lips suction around the sensitive bud next, and God, it feels amazing.

Your pussy is practically throbbing- can women cum from breast stimulus alone? You might find out if he keeps this up.

His hands cup your tits, pushing them together, and then he begins to lick at both of your nipples, switching from one to the other in a pace that has you grabbing his hair, whimpering in desperation.

You feel like you’re on fire- you feel alive, writhing on this hot nerd’s bed. It feels dirty, but it feels so right too.

He continues on your breasts for a short while, until you’re good and needy, then he makes his way to your jeans.

“I want you naked,” he tells you.

“Then get me naked,” you counter, still breathless.

With a wink, Wonwoo pulls your jeans down, and you work on your bra. Soon, you’re completely naked from him, and unlike other times you’ve gotten with men, you don’t feel an ounce of shame.

This feels so right, and as Wonwoo begins kissing up your thighs, prompting your legs open, you just know that sex is never going to be the same.

Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours as he takes a lick of your pussy, and you both groan. His lips suction around your clit and your muscles spasm. He pulls away with a grin, breath hot on your aching core. “So wet already,” he muses.

“I need you,” you whimper.

“You have me,” he promises, diving back into your heat.

He doesn’t hold anything back. He eats you like you’re the most delicious fruit in the world, like your pussy juices are a nectar he needs for life itself.

You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you’re a little shocked at the speed of all of this, however, you suppose the foreplay had done a number on you as well.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, abdomen tensing.

“Cum for me,” he breathes heavily against your clit. “Want you to cum on my tongue.”

His lips wrap around your clit again, and two more harsh sucks are all it takes to send you over the edge. You gasp desperately, entire body tensing before the moment of your release.

Hot waves of pleasure erupt over your form, all consuming. You can hardly breathe, can only gasp in ecstasy as he works you through your high.

You’re not sure how long your orgasm lasts, only that you’re out of breath and brain dead by the time Wonwoo pulls away.

You can hardly open your eyes to look up at him as he stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are so full of lust- and for the first time, he looks truly demonic. But you’re not scared, you’re intrigued, in the best possible way.

“Fuck me,” you tell him quietly.

Wonwoo grins, and his canines flash in the light. “You got it, Sweetheart.”

He grabs the back of his shirt, tearing it off his head to reveal chiseled chest muscles. He’s got more of a sleeper build- the kind of guy you wouldn’t expect to be muscled, except that under layers of fabric, he’s actually sculpted by the Gods.

You can hardly breathe as he pulls his sweatpants down, and you’re practically drooling by the time he gets back on top of you, his lips hot against your own.

You cup the back of his neck, kissing him desperately, wiggling your hips, eager for stimulation.

Wonwoo concedes, rutting so his cock drags through your drenched pussy lips.

Neither of you say anything, you keep lip locked as he finally pushes into you. You both release gasps of pleasure, breathing the kiss to press your foreheads together as he sheaths further inside of you.

You open your eyes, looking up at Wonwoo, who meets your gaze with a fierceness that sets your insides on fire.

He’s so beautiful- you’d checked his head for horns, but you can almost see an outline of demonic features- you must be dreaming, must be so lost in him that you’re seeing things. You close your eyes, drawing your lips to his again as he begins to fuck you.

Each thrust his hard, the tip of his long cock kissing your cervix. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but the feeling becomes pleasurable much too quickly. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, clawing at his broad shoulders.

“You feel so good,” he tells you.

“No, your cock feels good,” you correct him.

“Agree,” he presses a kiss to your lips, “to disagree.”

You laugh, and Wonwoo groans at the way your giggle makes your muscles clench even tighter around his cock.

“Fuck,” he moans, taking a deep breath.

He pulls away suddenly, and he flips you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips to lift you into the air. He positions your knees together, so you’re in doggy, and then he pushes himself back into your aching hole.

Shit- things feel even tighter in this positon, and you claw at his bed, burying your face in his duvet as he plows into you. His grip is rough on your hips, but you don’t even care- if Wonwoo continues to give you cock like this, he could do anything he wanted to you, any position, and you wouldn’t mind.

Each snap of his hips sends the sound of skin on skin through his room, but that’s the least of your worries. You’re more concerned about the fact that you can feel another orgasm bubbling up in the pit of your stomach, and your pussy is clenching even tighter around him now.

“You’re close again, aren’t you, Sweetheart?” Wonwoo asks.

“Uh huh, so deep-” you whimper.

“Rub your clit for me,” he instructs. “Wanna feel it.”

You adjust, bringing your fingers to your sensitive bud. You begin to stoke yourself, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you crying out as he rails into you.

Wonwoo shifts, bringing one knee up so his foot is flat on the bed, giving himself better manueverabilty to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.

“That’s it,” he groans, squeezing your hips. “Make me cum.”

The knowledge that your high will set off his own makes you even more eager to please him, and you rub your clit even harder, whimpering desperately.

Wonwoo lets out a grunt, and the sound is music to your ears. How is he so sexy? When did a man grunting become sexy?

Fuck, you work yourself even harder, and Wonwoo matches your enthusiasm with his thrusts, his hands pulling your hips back to meet him with each motion.

“I’m close-” you tell him, your pussy gripping him so hard-

“Let go for me,” he responds. “Need to feel it.”

A few more circular motions on your clit has you exploding, a loud whimper escaping your lips as your pussy clamps down hard on his cock. Your entire body is alight, muscles working overtime as you contract around him.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo growls, his pace faltering as he cums inside you, filling you with a warmth that makes you spasm beneath him.

You continue to moan as he fucks you through your highs until you’re both breathless. You can feel him breathing on your back, can feel each puff-

Your own chest is heaving with effort, your eyes closed as the last inklings of euphoria sparkle through you.

Wonwoo’s hands smooth along your hips gently, and neither of you have anything to say as you recuperate.

Finally, Wonwoo gently traces your spine with a finger. “I’m going to pull out,” he tells you. “Grab you a tissue.”

“Okay.” You nod against his bed, still too blurry from your orgasm to think too hard about anything.

The loss of his cock from your aching hole is one you feel everywhere, and you whimper, cupping your pussy to stop any cum from dripping onto his bed.

Wonwoo returns quickly, moving your hand so he can press tissue to your core. “Give it a sec, and when you’re ready we can put on some clothes and head to the bathroom.”

You stay on your knees for a few more seconds before mustering your energy. When you’re finally able to stand, Wonwoo helps you up. He pulls sweatpants up your legs, followed by a hoodie to cover your bare chest.

Then, he takes your hand, guiding you to the bathroom where you both clean up.

Everything is a blur until you get back to his bedroom, where you collapse onto the mattress against his chest, eyes closed.

Wonwoo’s hand smooths up and down your arm. “How do you feel?”

“So good,” you respond.

“I’ve gotta tell you something.”

You can hear the seriousness in his tone, and you force your eyes open, looking up at him questioningly.

“I was going to wait-” Wonwoo admits, “it’s something I’ve never told anyone, not in so many words at least.” You wait for him to continue. “The whole demon thing… there’s some truth to it.”

“But… I checked for horns?” you say, confused.

“We don’t have horns, Sweetheart. We’re deal makers. You gave me your necklace, it has a soultie to your ex, one day, I’m going to drag that asshole to hell.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. “Sure you are, Wonwoo.”

“You don’t believe me,” he muses, lifting your hand so he can kiss your knuckles gently.

“I told you I wouldn’t, so what does it even matter?”

“I just wanted to start things right,” he confesses. “Wanted to do this right.”

“This?” you counter, grinning up at him.

“Us. I want to give it a shot, if you’re interested.”

“I’m more than interested,” you admit. “But… I think, right now, I just need a little sleep.”

“Then sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and with a smile and a deep breath, you finding yourself drifting into the most blissful sleep of your life. Demon or not, Wonwoo makes you feel protected, and that’s not something you’ll ever take lightly.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I love Wonwoo!

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🔮 preview. “You look so good like this, Sweetheart,” he whispers. “Being so good for me, so corruptible-” He has a bit of a corruption kink, but he’s never forced it on you. No, he’d shown you his toys, and allowed you to choose the pace on everything. You feel so comfortable with him, and it allows you to fully connect with yourself and your pleasure.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, use of sex toys, flogger, vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, breast worship, nipple clamps, slight corruption kink, dirty talk, praise, soft dom Wonwoo, fingering, slight pain kink, etc… I petnames. (hers) Sweetheart.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been a few months of dating Wonwoo, and you’ve realized the whole demon thing is completely real. It was an adjustment at first, but he’d explained everything about it. There are certain demons who do the darker stuff, but Wonwoo truly considers himself a deal maker above all else. He doesn’t kill, even though, with his power, he could.

No, he’s a mellow demon, if there is such a thing.

It’s an opposites attract type of situation, and Wonwoo’s spent countless nights admiring your aura, discussing what it is exactly that makes you the light Yin to his dark Yang. He loves you for all of your differences, and you’ve never felt more comfortable with a person- or, should you say, demon.

He’s an ageless man with a thirst for knowledge, and you’re so attracted to his deep understanding of all things literate or scientific. You find yourself constantly learning new knowledge from him, and every day you spend together is a dream you never could have even wished for.

Aside from all the educational learning experiences you have with Wonwoo, you’ve also begun to explore his sexual knowledge, and it’s a journey you never thought you’d find yourself on.

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celandeline · 11 months ago

Note

Okay this is my first time asking for a one shot so I hope this makes sense. Okay how about Farleigh and reader aren’t close friends but they are close like behind closed door (if you know what I mean) and like reader is sensitive. So one day Farleigh makes a joke about her without noticing she is there and like hurts her feelings. Like does that make sense obviously you can ignore this if you want. But you if you could write about the part where he is apologizing to her (smut will be great honestly), but you do whatever you want.

sorry this took so long - i promise i'm working through all the lovely asks you guys sent me, it's just taking a minute (school and shit, you know)

anyways!

I'm Sorry (In Not So Many Words)

Farleigh Start is a lot of things. At first glance, a stuck up bitch, but that’s only the first of many layers. He’s wicked smart when it comes to literary analysis, can write an argumentative essay like nobody’s business, and breezes through books faster than anybody else you know. He’s funny in a bitchy kind of way that’s distinctly American and not to everyone's taste, but definitely to yours. He’s fashionable to a fault - a bit of a diva, truly - but on more than one occasion has held your hair back so you can vomit vodka into the toilet. He always has enough weed or coke or acid tabs to share and always has extra room in his dorm for you to crash if you’re too high to get home. He’s mean and nice at the same time, and to most people, it’s confusing. But not to you.

To anyone else, you’re friends. Barely friends, even, connected only by the fact that Felix and Annabel are kind-of-sort-of a thing. You would have never have even met him if Annabel hadn’t dragged you into Felix’s circle, but you’re glad that you did. It’s fun, finding excuses to get each other alone, patting concealer over hickeys you’re not ‘supposed’ to have. And he’s nicer behind closed doors, when he’s not putting on a show for his cousin. You might even go as far as to say that he’s sweet, when it's the two of you alone. Of course, you’d never tell anyone - not that anyone would believe you, either.

So when you overhear Felix ask Farleigh if he’d ever consider going out with you to double date with him and Annabel and he laughs, an icicle shoots through your heart. It’s condescending, his laugh; it’s you’re kidding and I would never and you can’t be serious all at the same time, and it shoots through you like a bullet.

You don’t show up to Kings Arms even though Annabel texts you that that’s where everyone is, instead holing up in your room, the sound of Farleigh’s laughter banging around in your head. You don’t know what the truth is. Has he just been leading you on this whole time? Pretending to like you for… what? It can’t be sex, he can get that with other people, it can’t be drugs, he always supplies them, it can’t be money either… but the way he laughed, like it was so ludicrous that he would ever consider going on an actual date - a double date, even, which is really only half a date - with you. And to think that you liked him. Even just as a friend. Maybe you were wrong to think that his bitchiness was a front - maybe that’s just who he is. Maybe you were wrong to think that he was anything else. Maybe-

A gentle knock at your dorm door interrupts your spiraling, and you get up from your bed, padding across the room to look out the peephole, and find a familiar puff of curls. You’re opening the door before you can really think about if you want to see him right now, just out of habit.

Farleigh smiles at you, and breezes into your room like nothing’s wrong. “Did I leave my grinder in here?”

“I don’t know.” You say, closing the door and retreating back to your bed, watching him sort through the things on your desk, looking for the little blue grinder he keeps with the rest of his weed supplies. He sorts through your things like they’re his - and if you’re being honest, some of them are. Over the course of the semester, the line between what’s yours and what’s his has blurred significantly.

He turns around at the sound of your voice, peering down at you. “What’s wrong with you?” It’s teasing and sympathetic at the same time.

“Nothing.” You shrug. “I’m just not feeling well.”

He squints, moving from the desk to sit down on the bed next to you. “Uh huh.”

You’re really not in the mood for him right now. “Fuck off.” Why should you give him the time of day when he was so rude behind your back? You don’t really want to tell him off to his face - he’s quick as a whip in an argument, you’ve seen it firsthand - but you really, really, don’t want to see him right now.

He laughs, sharp and surprised. “Wow.” He says. “What?”

You roll your eyes. “What, what?” You mock him. You know you’re being childish, but you don’t really care - it was childish of him to laugh.

He rolls his eyes back at you. “What’s your problem?” He asks. “You were perfectly fine earlier, did I say something?”

“Obviously.” You say.

He waits for you to keep going, but you don’t. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“I heard you and Felix.” You snap. “Is the idea of actually going on a date with me in public, with other people, that fucking funny?”

His face shifts into something you don’t recognize. “I-”

“If you don’t want to do this anymore, you should just say so.” You keep going. “I thought that we were actually, I don’t know, friends, at least. Call me crazy but I felt like I actually knew you, and actually liked you.” You laugh. “I just-” You pause. “Nevermind. I guess I was stupid for thinking that it went both ways. I guess I shouldn’t have, I mean, I was watching you do this same shit to other people, I don’t know why I thought I would be different-”

“I wasn’t laughing at the idea of going out with you, I was laughing because there’s no way in hell I would ever go on a double date with Felix and Annabel. They’re fucking insufferable as is.” He interrupts you, placing a hand on your cheek and turning your face so that you’re looking at him. “Did you really think I was laughing at you?”

“I wouldn’t have been so pissed off if I didn’t think you were.” You say, not quite sure whether to believe him or not. “But-”

“I’ll take you out.” He says it casually, thumbing over your cheekbone. “Just us. We can go get dinner at that new place by the pubs. If you want.”

All of the anger and doubt that had been piling up on your chest is suddenly lifted. “That sounds great.”

“Cool.” He says, grinning, his hand still caressing the side of your face. His fingers trail down the side of your neck and then he’s cradling your head, pulling you closer to press his lips to yours - softly, gently. It’s an ‘I’m sorry’ in fewer words, but you know him well enough to read it as an apology.

You kiss him back, pouring your sorry back into him. You shouldn’t have been so quick to assume that he was laughing at you, you should have had more faith in the fact that companionship is a two way street - he seeks you out as much as you do him. It’s mutual, and in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten that. Sweeping your tongue into his mouth, you smile against his lips when he sighs into the kiss.

He pulls away so that his lips are just brushing yours. “Let me make it up to you?”

“You don’t have to.” You say, leaning back as he gently pushes you down on the mattress. “It was really my fault, I misunderstood-”

He noses down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake as your back hits the mattress. His curls tickle your skin as he works down your collarbone, rucking up your shirt so that he can kiss down your stomach, looking up at you through his lashes as he does. Butterflies swirl in your stomach as he kisses over the skin. “Farleigh-”

“What?” It’s teasing and playful as he sits back on his heels to thumb at the waistband of your pants. He drops his voice slightly. “Can I?”

You nod, and he dips his fingers below your waistband, gently pulling your pants down to your ankles. You kick them off the rest of the way as he leans back down over you, holding your eyes with his as he noses between your thighs. You suck in a breath as his tongue makes contact with your skin, and a bolt of pleasure shoots through you. Your tip your head back against the mattress as he starts to work his mouth over you. He knows how to use his tongue - there’s a reason there’s a rumor about him sucking teachers off - and he puts it to work right away, diving in like he’s hungry for it.

“Oh fuck-” You wind your fingers into his curls, tugging at the root. He moans into your skin, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. It’s good - it’s always good with him. That’s another thing about Farleigh - you can always trust him to actually get you off. Unlike most of the other guys you’ve been with.

But you feel a little guilty that he thinks he has to make it up to you, when you were the one who didn’t bother to ask him what he meant. If anything, you should be sucking him off. Tugging more insistently at his hair, you pull him up to latch your lips together in a kiss, licking yourself off his skin. He pants against your lips. “Why’d you stop me?”

“I want you to fuck me.” You say. That way it’s even, that way, you’re both getting to enjoy yourselves.

“Fuck. Okay.” He shucks his trousers and boxers down in one motion, kicking them down the bed. He’s already hard - but he usually is, after burying his head between your thighs - and you don’t hesitate to reach out and stroke him a few times, watching his face change into that almost pained look he gets when you fuck him.

You line him up, brushing his skin against yours, and watch as his eyelids drop to half mast as he pushes in. The stretch just borders on the edge of too much, but the groan he lets out distracts you from the sting. He always sounds so pretty when you’re like this, tangled up in the sheets of your too-small dorm room bed. You wind a hand into his hair and pull him down into the crook of your neck so that you can nip at his earlobe as he starts that slow, delicious grind you’ve come to associate with him.

He sinks his teeth into the skin of your neck, gently biting over a hickey that he left only a couple days before, refreshing the mark as he muffles a groan. You trail your lips down the shell of his ear until you find his neck again, doing the same. His hips stutter into yours as you suck at the tender skin of his neck, and you smile. Even though he’s on top, he’s still putty in your hands - or mouth, really.

“Farleigh.” You whisper against the mark you just left.

“Mm, what?” He nips at your collarbone.

“Switch with me.” You say. “Let me on top.”

He laughs, a breathy thing that borders on a whine. “I’m supposed to be making it up to you-”

“Which is why you should let me on top.” You say.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you-”

“Please?”

His hips stutter against yours again, and that's how you know you’ve got him. He pulls you tight to his chest, wrapping his arms around you, and rolls across the mattress until he’s flat on his back and you’re straddling him without ever pulling out. Sitting up, you take in the sight of him, pupils blown wide, lips still slick with spit, a blooming mark peeking out from behind his ear, and plant your hands on his chest for leverage as you start to bounce.

He grins, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth to muffle the moan that forces its way out of his chest as you work yourself up and down his cock, his hands finding their place on your hips, fingers digging into your skin. You purposefully scratch your fingernails down his chest to watch him squirm, and he uses his grip on your hips to fuck up into you, to watch you falter. It’s a fun game that you play, who can make the other keen and whine more, made even more fun by the fact that more often than not, you win.

“Fuck, fuck-” Farleigh rasps, his grip tightening as he takes over your bouncing for you. You let him move you at his own pace, able to tell just by the way he whines that he’s close. He throws his head back and you watch his stomach tighten as he lets out a long groan. His whole body tenses, and then stills. You wait for his eyes to flutter open before you start bouncing again.

He gasps, a high pitched laugh leaving his lips. “Shit-”

“I’m almost there.” You say, watching his face as the coil tightens in your gut.

“Take your time.” He says, panting. “I’m good.”

He always says that, but you know it’s only a matter of time before it’s too much and he starts to grit his teeth. You know what it’s like - you’ve been on the other end before, already came but Farleigh’s still fucking, the drag growing more overstimulating the longer it goes on. So you bounce faster, focusing on the way he looks underneath you, debauched and panting, eyes half lidded as he watches you go up and down, sweat gathering in the hollow of his neck. God, he’s so beautiful.

“Ah-”

You shake apart on top of him, and he catches you as you slump down onto his chest, arms wrapping around your middle. You nose into the crook of his neck with a sigh, contentment washing over you. “‘M sorry.”

“For what?”

“Being stupid. Thinking you were laughing at me. Sulking about it.” You say, pressing a kiss to the warmth of his skin.

“‘M sorry for making you think I was laughing at you.” He says.

You sigh. “We’re good?”

“We’re good.” He says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

#farleigh start #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #saltburn #saltburn x reader #farleigh start smut

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leilakisakabiri · 2 years ago

Note

request: Hi can you do where the reader is wearing Gavis hoodie and she accidentally stains it and starts freaking out. Thank uuu and i love ur writing

I Got You (Gavi)

Summary: You need Gavi to come help you after you get yourself into a bad situation.

Warning(s): None

A/N: Thank you so much for the request and for your support! Requests are open. Currently working on The Promises We Keep Pt 2. Also, guys if I haven't done your request yet, don't worry, it probably means it's gonna be a long one.

Word Count: 3.1k+

Masterlist

It was a Saturday night in Barcelona, and you were holed up in your room, feet tucked under you, a knitted blanket over your shoulders as you read over the words in front of you for the hundredth time.

While the city was alight with people getting drinks, dancing, and laughing, you silenced your phone, closed your blinds, and put your headphones on to quiet any outside noises.

You had decided to stay in this weekend, caught up in writing an essay for your criminal law class that was worth 50% of your grade. Safe to say you did not take it lightly. You had been hunched over your computer for the last nine hours, brain numb and fingers aching as you had tried to come up with a thesis and strong argument for your essay. You had blocked out this weekend to finish the essay, letting everyone know ahead of time not to contact you unless it was an emergency, including Gavi.

Gavi had been gone for the last couple of days, traveling around Europe for the last leg of La Liga, and he had been adamant about spending as much time with you as he could once he got back - before his summer schedule kicked off. However, that hope was quickly cut short when you informed him you most likely wouldn’t be able to see him at all this weekend due to you being stuck finishing your essay.

Although he had tried to convince you to change your mind, bribing you with the idea of endless cuddles and then promising to be as silent as possible while you wrote when his first idea didn’t work, you relented, knowing that having him around would be a major distraction, one that you couldn’t afford.

“I’m sorry Pablo I don’t think I can this weekend. What about Monday?” You asked hopefully.

He sighed over the phone, his face pulling into a frown, “I can’t. We’re leaving Monday morning for France.”

You bit on your lip, feeling bad, “I’m sorry I just really need to focus this weekend.”

He nodded, “I get it. It just sucks. I wanted to see you at least once before I’m gone again. But it’s fine – I’ll survive.” He replied dramatically.

You grinned, “Well I’ll miss you Pablito.”

“I already miss you.”

The smile on your face only grew as your heart warmed at his words, “I’ll text you if anything changes. Have a great game, I’ll be watching.”

He gave you a wink, “Damn gotta show off now that my girls watching.”

You giggled at him, “Bye Pablo.”

He mocked your tone playfully, “Bye Y/n.”

That was last week, and now you were nose deep in your essay, textbooks scattered around you as you looked for possible quotes to strengthen your thesis. You had been so busy scanning the words on the page that you hadn’t noticed your phone buzzing non-stop next to you.

Once you saw the glow of your phone screen curiosity got the better of you and you flipped it around seeing you had eight missed calls from your best friend.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, it was almost two in the morning, she would for sure be at a club right now, happily dancing the night away with your friends, so why was she consistently calling you?

The phone buzzed once again and this time you were quick to answer.

“Hello, Gia, what’s going on?”

Her voice was slurred on the other end, but you could sense the panic regardless, “Y/n? I don’t know where I am, I was with the others but then I went to the bathroom, and I then couldn’t find anyone anymore. And this guy won’t leave me alone-”

“Gia, where are you? I’ll come get you.” You cut off her rambling, already rushing to put on your shoes, essay long forgotten.

She hiccupped, “I’m at Macarena. I’m sorry no one else answered.”

“No, no problem at all. I’m coming right now, Gia. Don’t move. I’m glad you called.” You comforted her.

The club was only a twenty-minute walk from your house, and seeing as you didn’t have a car or the time to wait for public transport, it was your best option.

You cursed yourself for not answering sooner as you rushed to get your keys, grabbing a random hoodie on the way out.

Although summer was beginning to creep into Barcelona, the nights were still chilly with cold winds rushing through the area.

You sped through the streets, walking with purpose as you finally reached the club. You were severely underdressed for the club wearing a random hoodie and yoga pants. You saw the line for the club was still extremely long, wrapping around the corner and you knew you had no time to waste.

You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself, you were never one to break any rules or ask for any special favors, but now seemed like a good time to start.

You walked up to the club bouncer, ignoring the nasty look the guy at the front of the queue was sending you, “Excuse me. I need to get in right away, my friend is inside alone, and I need to help her.”

You heard the guy next to you scoff.

The bouncer looked at you unimpressed. “Sorry sweetheart. You want to get to her, you have to wait in line.”

You relented, “Sir please, just look at my outfit,” you said gesturing to yourself, “clearly, I’m not here to party, I just need to get my friend and leave. You can even come with me!”

He gave you an apprehensive look, taking in your appearance, “I can’t leave my post.”

You groaned, “Fine, then can someone else escort me? I can literally call her right now. She’s not in the right head space.”

He squinted his eyes at you, “You look familiar.”

It finally clicked. This is where you had gone with Gavi and his team, celebrating after they had won a final a few weeks ago. They had treated you like royalty, blocking off a whole section just for you, the club owner even making an appearance to congratulate the team.

You didn’t like to use the fact that you were dating a well-known athlete as a way to get special privileges but if it meant helping your friend then you would do it.

“Yeah, I was in VIP a few weeks ago. I know the owner, so please let me in.”

“What’s his name?”

You racked your brain trying to think of that night, “Santiago. It was Santiago!” You replied, finally remembering.

The bouncer gave you a once over before he finally nodded begrudgingly, “Fine – but be quick.”

You heard the other people in line begin to argue but you quickly thanked the bouncer, rushing inside, not wanting to wait long enough for him to change his mind.

God bless Gavi.

The place was packed, bodies pressed together so closely that you had to squeeze in between heavily making out couples and groups of friends to make your way to the middle. The strobe lights were going crazy, changing every few seconds to the beat of the music. There was a DJ booth twenty feet above the crowd playing EDM Spanish music and the crowd was going insane, chanting along.

You hit your head on your forehead as you realized you forgot to ask her where she was.

You pulled out your phone, letting out a breath of relief when she answered, “I’m here Gia. Where are you?”

“I’m at- I said no, stop, I’m at the bar.” She huffed. You felt your anxiety rise, who was she talking to?

“Ok, I’m coming.”

You pushed through the throngs of people, finally spotting the bar, seeing her leaning against the counter, hands flying as she argued with someone.

You walked towards them hearing the tail end of their conversation, a bad feeling in your stomach.

“Gia!” You yelled, coming to stand next to her.

She gave you a relieved look, falling into you, the effort of standing up being too much.

You caught her, hugging her back.

“Oh wow – two for one. I got a buddy that would love you.”

You steadied Gia looking up to see the guy she was talking with giving you a smirk.

You held his gaze, annoyed, “No thanks. We’re leaving now.”

You went to turn but he caught your wrist pulling you back, the drink in his hand sloshing,

“Woah, don’t go yet, the fun’s just getting started. Look my buddies are in VIP we can hook you up.”

You yanked your hand away, giving him a disgusted look, “First don’t touch me. Second, we’re leaving.”

“You’re not leaving.” He persisted.

You raised an eyebrow, “Fucking watch me.”

He reached for you again, but you were prepared, grabbing his hand, and flinging it off you, as you weaved into the crowd, ignoring his shouts.

You let out a breath as you stepped outside of the club, grateful for the cold air after sweating through your hoodie in the packed club.

You adjusted your hold on Gia, holding her waist as you started the trek back to your apartment.

She stumbled over her steps as you walked, giggling, “Oh my god Y/n your bleeding!”

You gave her a confused look, dragging her, “What?”

She giggled again, reaching for your hoodie, “It’s coming from your stomach, look it’s red!” She pointed at your shirt.

You looked down and you stopped in your tracks, breath hitching as you began to panic, “Oh shit Gia I’m wearing Gavi’s hoodie!”

She stopped as well, letting go of you as she plopped onto the ground, staring up at you,

“So?”

“So? He’s going to be so mad at me. That dick spilled his drink on me. This is a white hoodie – who knows if it will come out?” You stressed.

“It’s-" she hiccupped, “fine.”

You shook your head, “No It’s not it’s his favorite hoodie, I didn’t even realize I was wearing it. Fuck, I have to clean as soon as we get home.”

You started walking before you realized she wasn’t following you.

“Gia?”

You turned around to see her slumped against the sidewalk, eyes closed.

You rushed to her side, shaking her, “Gia? Gia, are you okay?”

She hummed, “I don’t feel so good.”

“Can you walk? We’re almost halfway there.” You asked, helping her sit up so she was leaning against you.

She groaned, “I’m going to throw up.”

You looked around anxiously, unsure of what to do. You had left the main strip of clubs and restaurants, and were now on a back road, walking in an area that was dimly lit and that you weren’t too familiar with.

“I can call an Uber.”

You reached into your pocket, cursing yourself as you realized you had forgotten your wallet in the rush to get to the club.

“Shit, I don’t have my wallet. Do you have yours?”

“Antonio.” She groaned, leaning her head against your shoulder.

You let out a huff, contemplating what to do. You attempted to get her to stand up once again, desperate to get out of the area, but she couldn’t stand, and you weren’t strong enough to carry her the rest of the way. You chewed on your lip debating a solution, but you didn’t want to do it unless it was the absolute, last, last resort.

You spent the next five minutes calling all your friends, but no one answered. You groaned, frustrated, knowing you had run out of options.

You heard your friend beginning to doze off and you shook her, “Gia stay awake.”

She moaned, “Y/n I really don’t feel good. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Your finger hovered over the contact, and you finally pressed it, feeling the guilt build inside.

It rang seven times before going to voicemail. You called back.

On the third ring, the line finally connected,

“Y/n? Why are you calling me so late?” Gavi’s voice was thick with sleep, his words murmured.

Hearing his voice sent a pang of relief through you, and suddenly you didn’t feel so alone,

“Gavi I’m sorry. I really need your help.”

He was up in an instant, wide awake, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m stuck in the middle of the road with Gia. She got drunk and I went to get her but now I’m worried there’s something wrong. She can’t get up and we’re all alone. I don’t have any money. I called our friends, but no one answered, I-I didn’t know what to do.” You rushed out.

You heard his breath accelerate on the other end of the line, “Ok don’t worry baby I’m coming. Send me your address, everything’s going to be okay. Just stay on the phone with me.” He reassured you.

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you, “Thank you so much Gavi.”

You heard his car door open, “Anytime. If anything happens like this again you call me first, okay?”

“Okay.”

You stayed on the phone with him, rubbing Gia’s shoulder to comfort her, readjusting her whenever she began to doze off.

Finally, you saw a familiar car pull onto the street, and you waved your hands, trying to get him to see you.

The car made a quick turn and then Gavi was rushing out, a worried look on his face,

“Oh thank god you’re okay. I was so worried.”

“I’m so sorry for waking you. Thank you for coming.”

“Y/n stop apologizing.” He said, helping you carry Gia to the car.

Upon feeling that she was being lifted, her eyes shot open, “Y/n what’s going on?”

She glanced over to her left seeing Gavi before she turned to look at you, it took two seconds for her eyes to widen and then she was whipping her head back, “Gavi? The hell y-you doing here?”

You giggled at her abruptness, “I had to call for help.”

She turned to you, snuggling into your shoulder affectionately, “You’re the best Y/n. She was a rockstar today.” She spoke, as you both pushed her into the car.

Gavi raised his eyebrow at you as you both got in, “A rockstar eh?”

You rolled your eyes, “She’s just spewing nonsense.”

Gia groaned in the back, hands clumsily coming to slap your shoulder, “Ehh don’t lie Y/n. You should have seen the way she talked to those guys – even I was scared.”

You saw Gavi’s grip on the steering wheel tighten, his posture stiffened as he looked over at you,

“Guys? What guys?”

You opened your mouth to reply but Gia beat you to it.

“This one guy, he kept trying to get me to come with him, but then Y/n was like no way we’re leaving, and then he started hitting on her, but then he tried to grab her, and she karate chopped his hand! He was so embarrassed!”

You felt yourself blushing at her recollection of events, “I did not karate chop his hand!”

“Yes, you did. It was like in midair when he was talking about his friend that liked you, and then I blinked, and it was gone!”

“Did he try anything?” Gavi’s voice was hard, as he looked at you.

You shook your head, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “No don’t worry. We were fine.”

You felt his body relax under your touch, and one of his hands came to grip your own, “You should have called me sooner. I’m sorry you had to deal with that asshole.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words, “Don’t worry I handled it. But thank you, next time I will.”

Soon you were pulling up to your apartment and hauling Gia up your steps.

“I really wish we had an elevator right now.” Gia groaned as she was being half pulled, half carried up the steps.

You made eye contact with Gavi after hearing her statement, and you had to bite your cheek not to laugh out loud,

“You and me both G.”

Finally, you reached your apartment, and all let out a sigh of relief as she fell onto your bed, passing out almost immediately.

You cringed as you saw her head land centimeters away from the sharp edge of one of your textbooks.

You reached over, clearing the space so she was able to sleep without the risk of a concussion.

You looked up once the area was cleaned to see Gavi looking at you intently, a weird expression on his face almost like he was stuck in his thoughts.

“What? Is everything okay?” You asked unsure, looking down at yourself.

That’s when you realized.

You were still wearing his hoodie, the one that had a massive red stain on it now thanks to the jackass at the club.

You had completely forgotten about it.

You quickly apologized, “Gavi I’m so sorry. Gia called and I was so worried so I grabbed the first thing I could find – and then the guy kept grabbing me and had this drink – anyways,” you let out a huff, “I’m really really sorry, I can buy you a new one.”

Gavi stared at you in surprise, shocked by your outburst, “Y/n relax. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry I know how much you love this sweatshirt.”

Gavi shook his head slightly smiling, you were just so adorable, and he physically couldn’t hold back the words he’d been dying to say any longer, “I love you more though, so it’s fine.”

“Wha-what?” You stumbled over your words, clearly not expecting such a big revelation.

“I said I love you.” He said it with so much confidence, almost like he was reciting a fact, something that couldn’t be changed, and you melted a little at how sure he sounded.

You didn’t know what to say, your brain still playing those three words on a loop. He loved you. He had said it first.

The silence stretched on and now it was his turn to get nervous, “Is that okay?”

Your mouth was still open in shock, but you quickly recovered,

“Yo-you love me?” Your voice cracked.

“Well, yeah… why would I not?” He asked, eyes locked on yours.

You shook your head, a smile gracing your features as you took a step closer to him, “I love you too, and I’m sorry-”

He cut you off with a sweet kiss, pulling you closer into him, as he slid his hands under the sweatshirt, fingers gently squeezing the soft flesh of your hips.

Your lips moved in sync and your hands went to play with his hair, gently tugging.

You heard him let out a groan and you bit his bottom lip instinctively.

He pulled away out of breath, a dazed look in his eyes, “Joder, you can ruin all my hoodies if this is how you apologize.” He muttered breathlessly.

You rolled your eyes, smiling as he brought you back into him for another kiss.

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tonguetyd · 7 months ago

Text

If your wings won’t find you heaven, I will bring it down like an ancient bygone

I’ve always liked this line, but hearing it live made it click in a way it hadn’t before

Feels scheduled ahead

When Ves sang this line in Radio City I had the image pop in my head of the scene from It’s A Wonderful Life. “What do you want Mary, you want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and bring it down for you. Say that’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon.”

So another way to look at this line. “If you can’t find your heaven, despite the wings you have, despite the divinity you have been granted, if you just cannot find joy? That’s ok. I’ll bring it down for you. I’ll fight like hell for you. I’ll give you that joy, I’ll sauté those horrors, you postpone that funeral RIGHT now, I am going to find the heaven you deserve.”

I wish I could remember who it was (probably @melit0n ‘s Euclid essay tbh but it may have been someone else) but someone wrote a theory that Euclid is the first song written thru not the character of Vessel’s eyes, but the guy/singer/songwriter/ACTUAL dude on stage Vessel himself. And I thought it was kinda an interesting theory but I think combining that with this idea makes it a little weightier. Because, Vessel the character is very much a part of Vessel the guy by virtue of the fact he embodies the character on stage every night. Just as Vessel the guy is (presumably) in a lot of Vessel the character. They’re the same, he’s not real, hes just some guy, hes acid and alkaline, etc etc.

(Edit I reread my tags, this post from @a-s-levynn is definitely the first time I saw this idea, yes THANK YOU LEV)

So. Point being. If this is Vessel the guy singing to Vessel the character, “despite your wings and all that Sleep has given you, you still cannot find peace. So I will bring it down for you. I will be your mouthpiece, I will write the words and tell your story. And you will find the love you want.”

That’s Ves speaking to himself.

And I think that is incredibly powerful and the most self-romantic thing I have ever heard. I’ll be your my joy and bring you myself heaven and the moon.

Recovering from depression and wanting to leave everything behind is a long fucking road. Idk that you ever really stop being on that road. I certainly still feel like I’m on that road even all these years later, but…the biggest thing that keeps you going is for your past self. At least for me anyway. I fight for the little girl that lives in me who thinks she will never be loved and needs to be perfect and ruins everything and is constantly reminded of how unforgiving the world is.

Baby girl, if you can’t find yourself heaven, I will bring it down for you. I’ve got you. I am hugging you so tight and telling you everything will be okay, my love. Look at us now. We’re still here. And we’re just fine. We are doing great. We’re alright and loved. And I will keep fighting like hell for you and to keep you safe and happy.

And so I think this is similar to what Ves is saying to himself. And it makes it that much more of a hopeful song. “Yes, I must be someone new, but moreso…I will keep living.

I will fight, for you.”

The next time you sing that line. Sing it to your younger self. Or to the parts of you that you feel are most difficult to love. Promise to fight for them. Bring down heaven.

And try not to cry

And if YOUR wings won’t find you heaven? I got you, too. ❤️

#haven’t done a feels-ridden lore dive in a minute #figured it was time lol #I also need to sit and think on that crazy 4am epiphany I had about The Loop being the telomeres of the trilogy but this was more recent #and also came quicker lol #anyway #hold onto hope if you’ve got it #sleep token #sleep token lore #sleep token lyrics #Euclid

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thatshappinessforme · 7 months ago

Text

When We Are Together - Pt. 1 (?)

omg...hi. i'm really here rn. posting this. at nearly 4 am on a monday morning. im nervous. i could vomit. so...this has been in my head for forever. literally. the idea is massive. it extends so far. it's seriously a whole universe in my little brain. it took so long to get the basis of this all out on paper, but, i'm hoping this is a series...a long one. the title isn't going to make much sense right now, but i pinky swear we'll get there eventually. so...without further ado...here she is...(EEK!) (also i have no idea how to set this post up so bear with me lol)

so i guess i just lost my fanfic writing vcard💌

_____________________________________________

word count: 2.4k

cw: just a little swearing, maybe a bit of bad writing, also maybe typos?? might be a little boring because it’s mostly to just like set the scene idk? (eventually the plan is to have a lil smut or smth but this really is just an intro lol)

_____________________________________________

The day starts as usual. You wake up to the sound of your alarm and your roommate’s hair dryer blaring through the thin walls of your Brooklyn walk-up. With a groan, you peel yourself out of the warmth of your bed, go to your desk, and open your laptop, holding onto a shred of delusional hope that one of your classes might be canceled for today; they rarely are…but you can’t blame a girl for being an optimist.

You scroll through your inbox, refreshing, and refreshing – you really don’t want to go to class today. Blame the essay you’d procrastinated that you’d spent all of last night speed-writing. Blame senioritis. Blame the unpaid music publicity internship that you’d been letting eat up your time in hopes of scoring a good job. Blame the frigid snow and ice that seem to be taunting you from outside your window. But, luckily it’s a Friday.

You refresh your inbox one last time, just for good measure. And, something actually comes in. But, it’s not from one of your professors. It’s from some company named “Dirty Hit.”

You raise an eyebrow and open the email, thinking it must be something related to one of the countless jobs you’ve applied for in the last few weeks, preparing for graduation at the end of the semester.

Y/N,

I’m a representative with one of our bands here at Dirty Hit. We’re really impressed with your work and have an opportunity we’d love to discuss with you, if you have a free moment this week at some point. Are you based out of New York? Get back to us when you can. We’re looking forward to hearing from you.

Best,

The Dirty Hit Team

“That’s weird,” you whisper to yourself, reading the short, ominous email over and over again. It’s not everyday that a label reaches out to a random college student to work with them. You’re not really sure what they could possibly be impressed with. You’ve just done minor PR internship work with underground bands from the east coast – that’s not exactly impressive. It sure as hell doesn’t warrant an email.

“Y/N?,” you hear one of your roommates and best friend, Vivian, call from outside your door before walking in, not bothering to knock. The two of you are close, almost like sisters at this point. In some ways, you’re exactly the same person, but in others your polar opposites. She’s a little bit more outgoing than you are, but she always helps to get you out of your shell. “Do you think I can get this guy I’m talking to into the venue tomorrow night? It’s just at The Soundwave, right?,” she asks, plopping down on the corner of your bed.

Shit. You completely forgot you signed up for an open mic tonight. You’d been playing your songs at small bars in Brooklyn and Manhattan for the past year or so. Songwriting had always been a bit of a hobby for you. So when you’re a broke college student in one of the most expensive cities in the world, you just find tricks to get you and your friends to do fun things for free. You’d learned a while back that performing at open mics usually meant you and your friends could get into bars and clubs without having to pay a cover, so you’d been spending your weekends doing that for a while. It’s all for fun. Sure, you like performing and put a lot into your songwriting, but pursuing it isn’t even quite a dream for you. You have an impending college degree you’ve worked your ass off for. In every sense of the word, music was a hobby for you.

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem. He might have to pay the cover, but it’s not like it’s the sort of thing where people buy tickets. You know the drill. But, obviously you’re my plus one, so no cover for you,” you nod, still staring at your laptop screen.

“What are you staring at, over there? Everything okay?,” she asks, getting up and moving to stand over your shoulder at your desk. You move your head a little so she can get a good look at the words on your screen. You watch her face as she reads the email, her lips dancing on each of the syllables as you watch her process it. “Dirty Hit? What the hell is that? Sounds like a porn company. Impressed with your work? Do you have a booming, secret OnlyFans I’m unaware of?,” she jokes.

I laugh and playfully nudge her arm. “No, no,” you giggle, “It’s a record label, I think. I’ve heard the name thrown around a few times at my internship. I think they’re kinda big.” You tab over and do a quick Google search. Immediately, a sea of popular artists and bands pop up under the label.

“Holy shit. Beabadoobee? Bleachers? The 19 fucking 75? I have their fuckin’ poster on my wall. They’re cool as shit,” she reads over your shoulder. “I mean, I have no idea what they could possibly want from me. My resumè isn’t all that impressive. Sure, I’m planning on going into music PR, but there’s no reason why I would stand out against someone who has like…an actual career under their belt,” you ramble, trying to make sense of the 67 words in haunting your inbox.

There’s a long pause, both of you trying aimlessly to make sense of the email. “Well, you’re gonna email them back, right?,” she eventually asks. You take breath, starting a reply to the email, leaving your cell phone number.

You try to focus on anything other than waiting for a reply. You do your best not to let your mind wander into the what-ifs, but as soon as you get done with your lectures for the day, you check your phone for any response.

Y/N,

Thanks for getting back to us so quickly. The band and management is also in New York for the next few months for a project. We would give you more information over email, but much of the matter is highly confidential. We have a studio space at Electric Lady in Greenwich Village that we could meet at, if that works for you. I know it is rather short notice, but could you meet this evening at some point? Let us know.

Best,

The Dirty Hit Team

You quickly reply to the email on your walk back from campus, confirming the meeting for later this evening. You get back to your apartment and practically tear apart your closet trying to figure out what the hell to wear. You know it’s a business meeting, but it’s also for some mystery band. You don’t want to dress unprofessionally, but you also don’t want to seem uptight. You decide on a black mini skirt with tights and a chunky black turtleneck sweater. You finish primping and step into Vivian’s room, practically out of breath from all the outfits you’ve tried on and scrapped.

“Okay, if you were a band looking for…a PR representative…? Would you hire me?,” you ask her, standing in front of her bed as she looks up from her phone. She looks you up and down and grins, “Of course I would, Y/N. You look great,” she reassures you, sensing you’re anxious, “So, you really think this is just a PR gig?”

“I mean, yeah. What else could it possibly be? It couldn’t be my music. I’m not even on any streaming platforms; I don’t promote it at all,” you say with certainty. She shrugs and smiles, before wishing you the best of luck as you head out the door.

You get on the subway and head to Electric Lady. The train has always been one of your favorite parts about living in New York for college. Putting your pink headphones on, looking out the window into the catacombs that stretch throughout the city, people watching. It’s where you did your best thinking.

You get off the train and walk through the streets, your headphones on and your music blasting, only interrupted occasionally by Google Maps telling you where to turn and such. Eventually the robotic voice in your ear says “Arrived” and you look over your right shoulder…here it is. You're right on time. You go to open the doors, pushing on them gently; must still be locked. You sigh, assuming that its to be expected. That this is simply upholding a prophecy of some sort that the band and music-industry-folk run behind…until you hear a laugh.

“It’s a pull,” you hear a man’s voice call out with a slight chuckle. From just those three words, you’ve determined that he has one of the thickest English accents you’d ever heard. You look over your left shoulder and see a man leaning up against the wall of the studio smoking a cigarette. “What?,” you ask, confused as you look over to him. He has a hood on and you can’t make out his face, or what he was trying to tell you. “The doors. It says right on them. ‘PULL,’” he chuckles, tossing his cigarette to the ground and putting it out with his Adidas sneaker, walking over to you. “Oh, um, thanks, I’m an idiot. I almost gave up,” you chuckle, pulling the door open this time. The man follows you into the studio, holding the door open once you tug on it. You look back over your shoulder to thank him for holding the door, the first time he’s been close enough for you to make out his face; Christ, it’s Matty Healy.

“I know who you are,” he says to you with a cheeky grin as he starts walking into the back of the studio. You just stand there near the doorway, the gust of cigarette-scented, cold January air lingering around you. You’re perplexed, to say the least. He keeps walking down the hall before finally turning over his shoulder, “You’re just gonna stand there? You have a meeting. Wouldn’t be very professional of you to stand us up,” he teases dryly. You blink a few times before nodding, following him, still in a bit of disbelief that this was the band that had some sort of ‘interest’ in you.

He shows you into a studio in the back. Once he opens the door, there are four other men sitting there, three that you also recognize from your roommate’s wall. The other, a bit older, more professional looking.

“Y/N! I’m Jamie, I manage these blokes. Thank you so much for agreeing to come meet with us today. I know everything was rather vague on the emails, but…we had to keep it that way. But, now that you’re here, let's talk, yeah? Are you familiar with The 1975?,” the older man asks you, in a super friendly manner as you sit down on a plush chair in the corner of the room. Every eye in the room is glued to you. The air is almost sticky with anticipation. You take a deep breath and try to slap on the most composed, thoughtful, professional smile you can manage.

“Um, yes! Of course,” you nod, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, “I’m actually a fan of you all. Really, I listen to your stuff with my friends – you’re fantastic.”

“Good, good. We’re glad to hear it,” he grins, looking around at the boys who also all look to be pleased. Even though everyone’s eyes are on you, you feel Matty's specifically, practically burning a hole in the side of your head as he stands, still leaning in the doorway.

“We’re impressed with you, Y/N. So, I’m just going to get on with it. George went to a little bar in Bushwick last month and sent us a video he took of you singing one of your originals…you’re bloody fantastic. We’re going on tour this summer. We want to do something a little different this time with our opener. We want to build someone from the ground up. You’re it. We want you. What do you say? You interested?,” he explains with a wide grin, his tone casual like he didn’t just tell you the craziest shit you’ve ever heard.

Jamie’s words hit you in slow motion. You look around the room, the air moving from feeling sticky to feeling ice cold, jolting you awake. “I’m sorry…what the actual fuck did you just say?,” you blurt out blankly, any ounce of composure you may have had completely gone.

You immediately catch yourself, your language, your lack of professionalism, though, “Oh my god, I’m sorry. I…that just came out of my mouth…I-,” your face goes bright red as you desperately try to correct yourself.

The room erupts in laughter, the men you recognize from Viv’s poster nearly barreling over off the sofa. Jamie’s jaw on the floor as he howls, slapping the table in front of him. You look over your shoulder to see that Matty’s still in the doorway, and he’s just standing there with his arms crossed, shaking his head at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, I think we’re gonna get along quite well with this one,” he remarks, licking his lips, weirdly impressed with your mispeakings.

You can’t help but sigh softly and shake your own head when he looks at you like that; something in you shifting as if he’s the only person in the room; as if he was the only person who'd ever laid eyes on you; as if he was the only person ever. As if, the offer you got just moments before wasn’t the most absurd thing that had ever happened to you. As if you didn’t need to thoroughly think this all over. As if you could make the decision right now.

You look back over to Jamie, who’s still chuckling. Before you can give yourself the time to overthink, you swing one of your legs over the other, lean back into the chair and smirk, “Jamie, where the hell do I sign?”

…and this is how it starts.

#matty healy #the 1975 #mattyhealy #still at their very best #the1975 #bfiafl #satvb #matty x reader #fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfic #writer #fanfiction

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emeritusemeritus · 2 months ago

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Heyy, do you think the Weasley twins would cheat on their s.os? Just curious what your take on that is:)

Hi anon! Please accept this essay about my thoughts on the matter, because apparently I have many 😂🖤

George would never.

Fred… maybe… but it would be a very specific situation like a prank gone wrong/ Polyjuice potion fail/ case of mistaken identity. Like he’d get carried away with talking about his inventions and wouldn’t notice the girl getting a bit too familiar until her lips are chasing his. He just thought she really liked what he was creating.

I think it all boils down to how you perceive them. I’ve read a few fics of ladiesman!Fred and though I could potentially see it in an AU, I never personally view him that way.

I tend to always write George as the shyer, more sensitive twin and i think that he is naturally a lot less confident than Fred, at least underneath. He uses humour as a deflective shield and falls into his role of prankster wholeheartedly because it hides his true nature that underneath the surface he’s a little bit insecure. He’s the second twin, always the other one, the other half of something bigger than him and quite often follows Fred blindly, having to explain and rationalise his slightly older brother’s ideas and words. SO, when George gets a girls attention, and it’s only him and not Fred, he’d be a bit of a mess and would probably plan what suit he’s going to wear to his wedding by the second date. I can’t see George ever cheating, it’s just not in his nature.

For some reason, I feel like George wouldn’t find love in his school years but would find someone absolutely perfect for him at the shop, like a meet-cute within their universe and the person would fit right into George’s life.

Fred however, he’s the more outgoing, more confident twin who seems completely unashamed and proud of who he is, both as a twin and in himself. I personally don’t write him as a fuckboy but he’d be quite a good fit if I did under certain contexts. I tend to write Fred as finding ‘the one’ young, probably in their school days and being certain right away that she’s the one. He’s a fiery guy, often quick to anger and doesn’t think of consequences of his actions so he’d need someone that balances him out, reminds him of what’s important and someone that he actually listens to when he needs to pull back a little.

Like he would get the attention of other girls but he’s completely blind to it because he only has eyes for his girl.

I always see him as being friends with the person before, a typical friends to lovers trope with a big event or a big realisation that it’s been her all along.

My own personal HC is that his love story would follow Arthur and Molly’s up to a certain point (being young, finding love, getting married early). I think it would be one of those ironic life twists that always seem to come full circle as he’s often quite anti-authority and against conformity, particularly when it comes to Molly’s expectations for him and George. So to see his life mirror his parents as hard as he’d tried to deny it would be ironically beautiful.

So I think with that in mind, I really couldn’t see cheating being an option. George likes having an easy life and if the relationship wasn’t right or he knew he couldn’t give it his all then he’d find a kind way of ending things, not cheating in any degree even if the relationship was rocky. If the relationship was happy, he wouldn’t even dream of it. The grass is never greener to George Weasley.

Fred wouldn’t dream of it because he knows he can’t do better than his long suffering girl. There’s too much history, too many inside jokes and his parents have practically adopted her into the family anyway so if he ever stepped a toe out of line, his mother would probably kill him. The length of his relationship is a mark of pride for Fred; being secretly sentimental he’d love to be able to say proudly how long he’d been with his girl to anyone that asks, knowing that even from a young age after so long together that you’d been together longer than you’d ever been apart in your entire lives.

The Weasley men just love their SOs okay?

Any one else have opinions on this?!

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #George Weasley #Weasley twins #anon #anon answered

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watchandread02 · 1 month ago

Text

For the "Holidays with the Winchesters: A very Destiel Christmas Advent Calendar" by @archervale and @wormstacheangel

Day Four: Candy

“You wanna kiss?”

Cas is startled out of where he is hunched over the table, trying to finish the essay Professor Crowley assigned to them last minute. He looks up to find one of the most gorgeous people he has ever seen. The guy is tall, and has the greenest eyes to ever green. Well that proves it, he can’t even think of anything better than that to describe the guy’s eyes, his brain is totally fried. Belatedly he realizes that he should probably answer the guy.

“What?” He very intelligently replies.

“I asked if you wanted a kiss?” The guy asks, a bit more hesitantly now, than before.

Cas tilts his head slightly and squints his eyes. Did he hear that right? Did that guy just offer to kiss him? Or is he so sleep deprived that he has begun to imagine stuff. Like a hot guy offering to kiss him.

Apparently he took too long to answer, since the guy starts to speak. “Hey, man. It’s not that deep of a question. Just trying to spread a little Christmas spirit, ya know.” He says, while pointing to the ridiculous santa hat that sits atop his head. He shakes his head to emphasize his words and the bobble bounces around.

“Well I guess it couldn’t hurt.” Cas kind of shrugs a little bit. I mean how often is he going to get the chance to kiss a handsome guy like that again.

A grin spreads across the guy’s lips. And god dammit, if that doesn’t make him even more attractive. He holds out his hand and Cas glances down at it. There is a little aluminium wrapped thing nestled in his palm. Cas takes it a bit hesitantly, kind of confused.

“So where is my kiss?” Cas asks.

Now the guy also looks confused. “I just gave it to you? You know a Hershey’s kiss? The candy?”

“Oh yeah, of course.” Cas blushes bright red and buries his head in his hands. Of course the gorgeous guy wasn’t asking to kiss him. He was just being nice. He probably offered everyone else sitting in the library one as well and Cas just hadn’t noticed because he was engrossed in his work.

“Wait, what did you think I meant? I thought you knew I was handing them out? Ya know, spreading the spirit?”

Cas’ head snaps up. He would’ve thought the guy would have left already, moving on to the next person, since his mission had been fulfilled.

Something seems to click in the guy’s head, since he reddens a bit as well. “Oh, did you think I was actually offering to kiss you?”

“Oh… um… I guess I- no wait- uh… I don-” Cas stutters out, not knowing what to say. He had just majorly embarrassed himself in front of the not only hot, but also kind guy and now he couldn’t even form a proper sentence. How humiliating.

“Huh?” the guy huffs out softly, “did you also agree to kiss me?” he asks.

Cas sighs out a little, well it can’t really go more wrong can it? “I guess I did, I’m sorry, that I misinterpreted your question.”

“Hey, no, you’re alright.” The guy takes a second to look him up and down.

“You know I wouldn’t really be opposed to kissing you. Though how about a date first?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck, smiling bashfully.

Cas relaxes, “I would like that…”

The guy starts to smile for real now. “Oh, um, names Dean.”

“Hello, Dean. I’m Castiel, but you can call me Cas.” he says while holding his hand out for a shake.

Dean looks at the hand for a second, before taking it. But instead of shaking it, he moves it towards his mouth, to place a light kiss there. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Cas.”

“Would you want to go on that now?” Dean looks at where Cas’ work lies abandoned on the table, “or do you still have to complete your work? We could totally do this some other time.”

Cas contemplates that for a moment. He should really finish up that essay, but if he’s being honest with himself he wouldn’t be able to get anything done now anyway. His brain is fried anyway and with Dean on his mind, he wouldn’t be able to write one legible sentence. He turns to start packing up his stuff.

“Oh don’t worry, I was finished here anyway.”

“Are you sure, you still seemed pretty engrossed when I first came over here. I wouldn’t want to be the reason, you don’t finish your work.” Dean says.

Cas slips his laptop into his backpack and zips it shut. “No, it’s alright. I got most of it done and can finish the rest tomorrow. I certainly can use a break and well I don’t know if I would be able to focus anyway.”

“Oh why is that?” Dean asks as they begin to walk towards the exit.

“Because I would be thinking more about you than my work.” Cas replies honestly.

Dean stumbles a bit, before coming to a complete stop. There is pink in his cheeks as he says, “Hey man, you can’t just say stuff like that. Warn a guy next time.”

“Oh okay, if it bothers you, I will make sure to stop it.” Cas says looking down at his shoes a bit dejectedly. Maybe this isn’t going to work out, if Dean doesn’t even like Cas complimenting him.

Dean places a gentle hand on his shoulder, leaning down a bit to catch Cas’ eye. “Hey now, I didn’t mean for you to stop. Just um, not used to getting genuine compliments, I guess.”

“Okay if it is truly alright with you. Though I guess I will have to compliment you more often, so you get used to it.”

They stare at each other for a moment before Cas says, “so shall we go? We did have an appointment, didn’t we?”

“Hey man, don’t ever change.” Dean lightly squeezes his shoulder, where his hand is still placed, before moving to take Cas’ hand.

“But you are right, we do have a date to get to.” Dean states as he pulls Cas by the hand, out of the library, and into the brisk winter air.

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #destiel ficlet #candy #spnadvent2024 #college au #hershey kisses #my own writing

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artist-issues · 6 months ago

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I HAVE LISTENED TO THE FIRST ALBUM. THANK YOU FOR OPENING A NEW WORLD FOR ME. GONNA DO VESSEL SOON.

also, happen to have any breakdown posts/stuff you really like about the first album or any songs? :) I would say Oh Ms Believer, Addict With a Pen, and March to the Sea are my favorites <3

I am so happy right now!

Addict With a Pen is my all time favorite twenty one pilots song. I just don’t know why people say it’s their favorite but I never see anybody talking about why. The concept captures that feeling, that headspace, perfectly. And it resolves the way that headspace always should.

The verses alone make me want to cry, but again, they’re the Romans 7 Cycle. He’s saying, “hello, we haven’t talked in quite some time, I know I haven’t been the best of sons,” and you get the feeling that even though they haven’t talked in a while, this state of things, this trying and failing to be “a good son,” has been ever-present in the back of his mind.

When I’m living my day-to-day life, even when it’s full of religious things and responsibilities, but I’m not in the habit of…stopping and talking to God, and living according to the fact that He’s right there, and just generally searching for what He thinks about what I’m doing moment-to-moment, and finding out what He wants and even more importantly, asking Him to help me do it because I can’t, and focusing on the fact that He calls me “beloved” the whole time…this is how it feels.

It feels like He’s a homework assignment I’ve been putting off. It feels like He’s the grandfather I’ve been avoiding checking in with. It feels like He’s the dad I’m always conscious of desiring closeness and approval from, but forever unable to make it happen, so I avoid him, too. But however much I avoid and put off, He’s hanging over me, and so’s the failure that’s making me avoid a one-on-one with Him in the first place. That’s the way it feels. And that first line says it perfectly.

And then it goes deeper. Because while I’m avoiding a one-on-one with just me and God, where I actually listen to Him, what else is my inner world occupied with? What am I doing instead?

“Hello, I’ve been traveling in the desert of my mind.”

Me. I’m just circling around inside of myself. It doesn’t matter how much God is the topic revolving around my brain. Whatever. I can write a seventeen-page essay analyzing Walter Elias Disney and his life and his works and his legacy—doesn’t mean I know the man. Just because I think a lot about God doesn’t mean He’s the one talking, in my brain. It’s just an echo chamber. It’s just me, because that’s all I’m focused on.

When I’m spending endless nights rehearsing all the experiences I’ve had that could be proof of His existence, and weighing them against other possible explanations to try and see if I can deduce whether or not any of this is real? That’s not me spending time with God. That’s me, spending time with me, and God happens to be the topic, the bone I’m letting my mind gnaw into splinters.

When I’m thinking through everything I’ve done during the day, during the last few years, during that last interaction, during my life, and polarizing the good from the bad, sorting out my motives, testing to see if I’m doing it all right so I can root out the bad? That’s not me letting God show me what’s right and what’s wrong. That’s not me spending time with Him. That’s me, spending time with me, trying to figure me out.

And I end up whatever church words you want to use. “Burnt out, empty, in a dry season,” or whatever psycho-babble you want to use, “depressed, anxious, overthinking.” All it really is is self-focus. But I get so deep into it, even when “God is the topic,” that I can’t even see straight anymore. I realize I don’t know myself, and what little of me that I think might be real is despicable. I realize I can’t know much of anything in a way that satisfies my craving for complete understanding and control. I realize that I can question anything—even things that are beyond question. I can deconstruct anything—which is to say, nothing. That’s how insane I can get.

I can keep rephrasing this dark sort of headspace any way you want. But the point is, it’s a headspace that begins and ends with me, and I convince myself it has something to do with God while actually submitting no part of it to Him. And the secondary point is: I don’t need to rephrase it, because “I’ve been traveling in the desert of my mind, and I haven’t found a drop of You.” is the perfect way to sum it up.

No Him. No life. No water.

So it’s simultaneously a cry of doubt—he’s examining the inside of himself to see if that “saved,” sparkly, dramatic, all-important feeling is there to push aside his suspicion that none of this Christian stuff is real—and at the same time, the song is not just a cry of doubt. It’s a description of what’s wrong, how you get into the doubt, and how to get out of it.

Because:

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.”

“As it is written: “None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God. All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one.”

There isn’t anything good in here! (Imagine me pointing inward.) There’s nothing in this 3-pound gray-and-white-matter thing between my ears, and nothing in my soul, the eternal part of me, that is good—the only good comes from what is not me. The only good, the only sanity, the only life, comes from Jesus. The Way, The Truth, The Life. The Living Water.

And the more I try to figure it out on my own, with no trust, no childlike, “I can’t do it, if You don’t do it it won’t get done,” with no, “I don’t get this, but I’m going to do it anyway purely because You told me to, and doing it is trusting You,” the drier and more maddening the inside of my own head becomes.

That’s why “the sand will slow me down and the water will drain.” The whole concept is that even the idea of God that he’s mulling over can’t save him. Because again, he’s not relying on God and trusting God. He’s just analyzing God, as an idea, and calling it “all that I need.” Well, that’s not reliance on God. That’s reliance on your own reasoning, to figure God out, as if your ability to understand God will bring you life.

No. It’s God who brings life, not because you thought it all through and jumped through His hoops exactly right, and got all your answers about how He works—but just because you threw yourself at His mercy and said, “I can’t figure any of it out, I can’t make myself believe more or have more faith. If You don’t give it to me, I don’t have it.”

He’s an addict with a pen who is constantly trying to figure himself and life and God out. And writing helps him to do that. But at the end of the day, writing out your feelings of doubt is no better than puzzling those feelings out in a never-ending loop in your own mind. It all leads to the same place: “I don’t know anything, except how helpless I am to get any of this right. If there’s a good, I can’t measure up to it.”

“My trial was filed as a crazy suicidal head case.”

But then—oh my word, if only everyone would not stop there. If only everyone would quit parking on the tragedy and misery of “suicidal headcase.” If only everyone would move on from “we’re broken.” The whole point of realizing that you’re broken is that that’s when you finally look outside yourself and ask for help.

“But You specialize in dying. You hear me screaming, ‘Father!’ And I’m lying here just crying, so wash me with Your water.”

See the change? It’s not “the water.” It’s not “what’s left in my hand.” It’s not abstract; it doesn’t come from himself, either. It’s God’s water. And he is calling God his Father, whether he has felt like it or not. He’s not even focusing on his half of the relationship—the ‘son’ part from the first verse. He’s focusing on God’s half of the relationship—‘Father.’ He wasn’t even focusing on God enough to address Him or introduce their relationship as “Father-and-Son” during the first verse—just isolated to his own part in everything.

But then at the end, it’s an abandonment of self. It’s just saying, “I don’t know what I don’t know, I can’t fix any of it, I can’t even think or see straight—all that’s left is to beg You to help me.”

And He will! And He does! That’s what’s so wonderful. That He’s there the whole time, waiting for Tyler to stop running around his own head and look at/for God. Instead of looking for his own understanding of God. If that means Tyler has to reach the point of exhaustion and just be facedown, crying for help, and that’s the only way he’ll stop, then that’s where God will help him. That’s the grace in darkness and pain.

It’s like Peter, seeing the waves, starting to sink, being in a moment of terror, and doubt, specifically doubt, and crying out anyway, “Lord, save me!” and then the Bible says, “immediately,” Jesus reached out and grabbed him and saved him. Immediately. No delay. No long pause while you squirm and fear. Immediately, as soon as you actually abandon yourself to ask for His help.

And speaking of waves, I forgot to mention it because I think it’s the most obvious part of the song and I’ve mentioned it elsewhere: he’s quoting James when he explains that he’s addicted to the wind, getting blown back and forth in an endless cycle of doubt. A “double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.”

Anyway, I think this song sums up almost the whole band. Or at least, the problem. The problem is getting hung up on feelings of doubt and insecurity and worthlessness, but also getting hung up on self-focus and leaning on your own understanding. And the only solution is to find out how empty it all is, and how unable you are to escape it on your own. So in that way, acknowledging the darkness is good. Because it leads you to that conclusion: I need God. Not just to get me out of Hell. But to get me out of me.

I don’t know how to communicate how impactful this song has been on me, particularly. I admired and leaned on all of the twenty one pilots songs I heard before this (Clear, Save, the non-Addict Self-Titled songs.) But this was the one where I felt like I could’ve written it. Not like I could’ve picked the perfect words or the melody or anything so perfectly like Tyler Joseph did—but I mean, I knew this concept inside and out because I’ve experienced it. If experiencing this headspace we’re all that was needed to write this song, I could’ve written it. But this screaming guy from Ohio wrote it, and something about that, the ironic fact that this song, the experience of doubt and brokenness leading to self-abandon and faith, was suddenly not just in my head anymore, but outside of it, helped bolster my faith. It didn’t make the Bible more true. The Bible already said all of this perfectly. But this was like a signpost, pointing me back to the Bible every time I wandered.

You know, a sign in the middle of a wasteland is important for more than one reason. It points you in the right direction, but if you’ve been lost and alone for a long time, a sign reminds you that other humans once stood where you now stand, and got out. They don’t make the water. They just point you back to it. That’s what this song was for me.

That’s all I can do for tonight. Thank you for asking! What do you like about Oh Ms. Believer?

#twenty one pilots #addict with a pen #awap #Tyler Joseph #Joshua dun #Josh dun #tylerrjoseph #the clique #skeleton clique #clikkie #tumblr clique #self-titled #asked #answered #my favorite band #my favorite song #Christianity #doubt #the Bible

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iamcautiouslyoptimistic · 7 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

Got tagged by @imagoddamnonionmason to do this and since I'm finally done with my essays, I can get back to writing and posting more! I have a lot of WIPs but decided to go with this one. Another young Adler x reader, in first person this time👀

Tagging @http-paprika @welldonekhushi @mctvsh @walder-138 @alypink and anyone else! I don't always remember everybody so please feel free to reblog with yours or tag me so I can see it🥰 (also sorry if you've already been tagged😵‍💫)

~ ~ ~

“We’ll be fine,” Russ murmured and leaned in to kiss my cheek. “We ain’t planning on staying long.”

I sighed, only able to manage a shaky nod. “Just… be careful, alright? Don't try to be a hero or anything, just come back alive. Please, Russ?”

He hummed and took a swig of his drink, intertwining his fingers with mine as reassurance. “I promise I’ll be back in no time. You’ll barely know I was gone.”

I wanted to tell him that I didn’t believe him, that I’d already seen how combat had changed him. His CIA recruitment had only strengthened his dedication to the job, pulling him further and further away from me.

Instead, I nodded again and tugged him toward the edge of the room, wanting to be out of the way of the dancing couples. The music was upbeat and the crowd lively but it was starting to get suffocating.

“Not in the mood for a dance?” he wondered softly, his voice a low rumble in my ear. I shook my head and led him further into the building, down a hallway and out of sight of the party. The music echoed faintly off the walls.

“I just want you right now,” I admitted. “No soldiers, no wars, no dancing. Just you, before I have to say goodbye.”

I sniffed and pressed my face against his collar in an attempt to hide my tears. His arms wound themselves around my form, holding me together so I wouldn’t break apart completely.

“Then you’ve got me,” he murmured. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I know, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying about you.”

Russ lifted my chin and caught my tears before they could fall. “I’ll send letters like I always do. It won’t be long.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that, it’s--" I hesitated, trying to find the right words, “You’ve changed, Russ. I know that’s normal, but I don’t want you to lose yourself to this job and this useless war.”

He was quiet for a moment, expression remaining neutral as he thought. “I can’t promise I won’t change. That’s just what war does.”

My fingers tightened on his lapels as I drew in a steadying breath. “I know that, too. Just don’t forget you’ve got someone who loves you and wants you home safe.”

His features softened at my admittance and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “A terrible thing to say before I leave.”

“Oh, really? And why is that?” I asked with a raised brow.

“Because now I’ve only got a few days left to tell you that I love you, too.”

I couldn’t help but grin, feeling like a school girl with a crush. Cradling his cheeks, I pulled him in for a kiss.

“Then tell me tonight, while we’ve still got the time.”

#tag game #mine mine mine #Ren's writing #russell adler #russell adler x reader #call of duty black ops cold war #call of duty #cod #wip wednesday

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petertingle-yipyip · 9 months ago

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CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE - MIGUEL OHARA

//idk why this took so long to post, it was already done when i revisited it. edit: nvm its cause i kinda missed some of the request//

Pairing: dad!miguel x GN!reader

Word Count: 1,801

Summary (request): hii, this is platonic request! can you do a fic where miguel comforts a reader ( gender neutral if possible ) who's turned 18 recently and is super anxious because their parents are pressuring them to pick a career/collage, decide what they wanna do in the future, etc and it's all making them feel really overwhelmed and restless?

“Hey there, kiddo.” Your dad strided into your room with your mom in tow. “How’s homework?”

“It’s fine.” You answered quizzically. “What’s going on here?” You gestured to the two of them.

“Well, we just came to see if you needed anything.”

“No, I’m okay. Thanks though.”

“Honey.” Your mom offered your dad a look and you could tell there was something else.

“Okay.” You sighed and pushed away from your desk. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Your dad tried, which earned him a pointed look from you.

“Alright, alright.” He put his hands up in surrender. “Your mother and I-”

“You need to start thinking about your next step.” Your mom cut in.

“Oh… Guys, I’ve still got time.” You tried. “Besides, I’m not sure what I want to major in.”

And that was true. There was so much going on with your vigilantism and latest recruitment into the Spider Society that you hadn’t had time to sit and think about your major, let alone what school you wanted. You knew MIT and Columbia were great options. Harvard was on the table, as were the other Ivys. But what was the point of applying if you didn’t know why you would be there?

“Calendar wise, yes, there’s time. But you know how steep the competition to these higher schools can be. Are you ready for the SATs? Or the ACTs?” Your mom continued, and her high emotions began to grate your own sensitive nerves.

“Mom.” You tried.

“We’ll pay the application fees.” Your dad offered, though your mom was still on her rant.

“No, I don’t need you to.” You told him.

“And your personal essay, what would you write about? Do you have any ideas? Oh goodness, there’s so much to do.”

“Mom.” You said roughly, finally cutting through her own words. “I don’t know, okay? I’ve been busy… I haven’t thought about it.”

“You can’t waste time anymore, Y/N.” Your mom said firmly, pushing your chair back against the desk.

“I’m not wasting time, Mom. Please just relax.”

“Sweetie, maybe Y/N needs to do this at a different pace.” Your dad offered and you gave a thankful expression.

“I don’t care.” She snapped. “My child won’t miss an opportunity because of hesitation.”

She slid your laptop in front of you and then leaned down to meet your eyes. “This is your chance to get somewhere better than this.”

“I like where I come from.” You said honestly.

“That doesn’t mean you have to stay here.”

“How about I take Y/N to the library to do these?” Your dad offered. “Wi-fi’s been acting up today.”

“Yeah, and maybe I’ll find inspiration.” You added on. “I can look through some books and see if anything feels right… I get what you’re saying, Mom, but I don’t want to rush into something I shouldn’t.”

She blew out a sigh and stood straight. “Fine.” She conceeded. “But please, get at least two done today.”

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded, figuring you could at least do that much, even if just to please your mom.

After all, she had given you everything she could growing up. Her and your dad gave up a lot so you would have what you needed and what you wanted. You didn’t have everything under the sun but you had more than enough. And that dedication was what inspired your actions as a spider-person. Your parents looked out for you in ways no one else ever would. They put everything on the line for a payout that didn’t always go in their favor, but in yours.

And being able to give that back to the community you grew up in, the community that supported you and welcomed you. That was what you wanted your adult life to be, something so giving and so genuine that it could inspire someone else to do the same.

But what kind of career or schooling could give that to you?

When your dad dropped you off, he gave you his credit card and said your mom would be checking the account to see the pending charge so you had to keep your end of the deal. You offered a laugh and thanked him for getting you out of the house.

“Kid, I know she’s a bit overbearing but she wants what’s best for you.” Your dad said honestly.

“I know, Dad.” You nodded. “I’m just a little bit caught in the middle right now. Can’t look too far ahead.”

“Can’t look back, either… Remember where you come from, of course, but don’t let it hold you back. Okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Call when you’re done.”

You offered a lazy sluate before skipping up the library steps. Once your dad’s car was out of view, you ducked around the side of the building to the library’s alley. You pulled your watch from your backpack before tucking it behind the usual pile of boxes and fit the device into place. You weren’t even in your suit but you’d wandered HQ in your pajamas before, so coming in your school clothes wouldn’t be a big deal.

Once you stepped through your portal, various spider-people greeted you in the halls. You offered nods or waves but didn’t stop for much conversation, not until you reached the head honcho’s office.

“What are you doing here?” He asked without turning to face you. Surprisingly, his platform was actually ground level today, meaning no one had annoyed him enough to raise it. “Don’t you have something else you should be doing?”

“No.” You shrugged. “It’s still daylight back home and the weirdos don’t start till dusk, at least so…”

“Not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Those college applications you promised your mom.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Why are you spying on me anyway?” You asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Because you, insectito, are the biggest pain the ass here… So what’s the problem then?”

“I don’t know what I wanna do with my life.” You said honestly, scooting some of his papers over so you could sit on the desk. “Mom wants me to just throw my name in the pot everywhere to see what happens and Dad just wants to make Mom happy.”

“Mmm.. And what do you want?”

You shrugged. “I dunno.”

“What do you like to do? Any classes in school get you excited?”

“Not really.. Bio is cool sometimes but..”

“That’s a start.” He glanced over with a small, almost proud smile that lasted half a second. “Biology major is broad enough to start picking schools.”

“I guess but-”

“What about bio do you like?”

“Miguel, can you just-”

“People, plants, or animals?”

You groaned and flopped backwards on the desk, throwing your arms over your eyes. You thought coming to Miguel would be a good time to rant and not be given advice, because half of the time he seemed to drown out your voice anyways. But of course the one time you just needed him to ignore your words, he had to do the exact opposite of what you wanted.

“You’re the worst.” You muttered, to which you felt a kick to your foot. “Hey!”

“Y/N, your parents are right.” He started and you groaned again. “You’re a smart kid but you have to find some sort of direction.”

“I’m just caught up in the middle, trying to keep going.. But it’s just not that simple.” You complained and when you got no answer, you kept talking. “But I have to keep going or they’ll call me a quitter.”

“Who will?”

“Everyone.” You shrugged. “I don’t know, probably no one.”

Miguel turned fully and took hold of your arms to haul you upright. You let out a loud sound of complaint as he did so and you didn’t bother to fight it, not that you’d have much of a chance to do so anyway. You dramatically let your head fall back so you could see his expression and he looked down at you with a small smile. You huffed a sigh and raised your brows expectantly as you waited for him to say something.

“What about a geneticist?” He offered and you were taken aback, no doubt your face showing it because he gave a quick chuckle. “I’m serious.”

“Yeah, you usually are but what the hell are you talking about?” You said in bewilderment.

He shrugged slightly before turning back to his work and you couldn’t help but follow him.

“You’re always lurking around to see what I’m doing.” He explained. “You ask questions about what I do and how all of my stuff works.”

“Like that injection you refuse to talk about.” You agreed and peaked up with a questioning expression. Without looking at you, he pushed your face away.

“Exactly.” He agreed with a nod. “And then you could study your own DNA and see if you can find anything cool.”

“I could give myself fangs!” You yelled with excitement before camping a hand over your mouth when you realized how loud you were.

“Yeah, and then you give yourself a lisp.” He rolled his eyes slightly. “What I’m saying is that maybe some sort of higher level biology career is where you’re heading… You’re one of the smarter spiders around here anyways. Might as well do something other than engineering.”

“Don’t you think science in general is a bit stereotypical for a spider? … Oh, shit. Is it our canon?”

“No.” He laughed a little. “There’s a Peter Parker around here that’s a photographer for a newspaper.”

“Oh.. That’s fun?” You tried.

“He takes fake candids of Spiderman and sells them to his Daily Bugle.” Miguel deadpanned and you laughed. “Not every spider leads a strenuous academic life.”

“But you think I could?”

“I think you should. Y/N, you’re always challenging yourself physically. Maybe it’s time to do it academically.” He shrugged. “But what do I know?”

You pursed your lips in thought as you considered his words. Maybe not genetics, but a STEM field could be fun. And with your current academic status, you’d be able to swing one of the better programs with better labs and better opportunities. You could try your hand at different branches and see what stuck. Even if you didn’t find one, you’d have a better direction for a graduate school at the very least.

“Thanks.” You said honestly with a small smile. “That actually helped… You always do.”

He put a hand on your head and gave you a small shake that made you laugh.

You went home after that and headed straight into the library after you fished out your backpack. You ended up doing four applications and got a text from your mom after each one. With every submission, you felt a little less stuck.

#miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman fic #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman fanfic #spiderverse fic #dad!miguel ohara #gn reader #gn!reader

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shxtodxroki · 1 year ago

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𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜

Send me the name of your favorite character and I’ll write a drabble for them! :)

“Y/nnn…” You hear a voice whine from behind you, though you resolve to pay it no mind, remaining focused on the laptop screen in front of you as you attempted to find the right way to word the conclusion to your essay. Though of course, your needy boyfriend would not be ignored so easily, proving as much with another, louder whine of your name as he tried to pry your eyes away from your computer screen.

“Y/nnnnn…. My angel…” You could practically hear the pout on your boyfriend’s face as he pleaded for your attention, though you continued to ignore him in favor of finishing the essay in front of him, knowing that the moment you gave him even a crumb of attention he’d take it as his cue to be all over you. You simply couldn’t afford to be distracted until this essay was finished, a fact you had reiterated several times to your boyfriend when he begged to come over to your place with you after school. He had agreed to give you time to finish it at the time, though it was clear that he was struggling to stick to his promise as he pouted and yearned for you to show him some affection.

“....You hate me.”

“Tooru, I need to focus because if I get a bad grade on this essay, my parents won’t let me go see your next game.” You grumble out exasperatedly, silencing your pouty boyfriend with your reasoning. “And then you’d really be miserable, so I suggest you let me finish this.”

“But baaaabe!” Tooru finally whined out, already recovered from the fear of not having his wonderful s/o cheering for him front and center at his next game, knowing deep within himself that there's no way you'd actually do poorly on this essay and miss any of his games. “You’ve been working on it all night, you’ve barely even looked at me!” You hear him move off of your bed as he says this, coming up behind you and leaning down to worm his hands around both the office chair you’re sitting on and your waist. “You know I need your attention to live, it’s just cruel to deprive me for this long.”

“You’re so dramatic, you big baby.” You retort, though you let your clingy boyfriend hold you from behind as you feel his eyes scanning over the portion of your essay that’s currently displayed on your screen, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious as he analyzes your work. “Besides, I just have to finish the conclusion, and then I’m all yours.”

Tooru sighs exaggeratedly once more at that, removing his hands from your waist as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking your computer screen from your view. “Come on baby, can’t you just rewrite whatever you already said and call it good? I’m sure your essay is good enough to stand on its own.” He tries to persuade you, and you allow him to take your non-dominant hand and thread your fingers through his as you gently nudge him aside enough for you to see your screen once more.

“Babe, just give me five more minutes and I’ll be done, I already know what I want to say. I just have to figure out how to word it.” You see the pout forming on your boyfriend’s face out of the corner of your eye and gently squeeze his hand in yours as you use your other hand to type. “And then we can cuddle, and you can be the little spoon since I made you wait all day for cuddles.”

Tooru’s eyes immediately light up at that offer, and suddenly he’s content to stand beside you and watch as you finish writing the last few sentences of your essay, mindlessly playing with your interlaced fingers as the sound of your keyboard clicking fills the room. As soon as you’ve written the final sentence of your paper and spell-checked it, you close your laptop and open your arms for your endearingly clingy boyfriend to melt into, allowing him to drag you over to your bed and manually wrap your arms around him from behind as you gently kiss along his back, finally giving your boyfriend the attention and love he’s been craving all day.

Request - @jaiistg said: OIKAWA TORUU :D!

A/N: Hi y’all, sorry I haven’t been posting very much lately, I’ve had a lot going on as I prepare for college lol but I hope you guys enjoy this cute little drabble! I always love writing drabbles for characters lol so pls feel free to send in your fav’s name if you want and I’ll write one for them, and if you have any other requests then feel free to send those in as well and I’ll get them added to my request list ASAP! :D

Taglist: @tsukkisukkii @awkwardaardvarkforever

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

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faeriedays · 1 month ago

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“#i loooooove fashion stuff its so cool #especially good omens metas #like i can rant to you about crowley's costume designs all day long”

I’m listening 👀👂

Sorry it took so long for me to reply! I was busy writing this out all day, lol.

It's long so I'm putting a 'Keep Reading' for anyone who wants to back out.

So I'm not very good at explaining things and these have probably already been mentioned but here goes :) I also have images but I messed up their formatting (I do have image descriptions though, even if I'm bad at writing). Warning for probable spelling mistakes and if something doesn't make sense, I literally have spent all day doing this instead of homework and I am so excited that I might have missed something in editing.

Before we dive deep, I’m going to list off the bat the outfits I don’t necessarily talk about or use as examples all that much in this essay thing/rant:

I’m going to put the knight outfit here because I don’t talk about it in great detail here but it’s still amazing and I love it. It definitely plays in with the classic ‘all black, nice shape, cool texture’ package that you’ll read about later. He must’ve been so uncomfortable in this but he looks great, I also wonder if he had long luscious locks underneath that helmet 👀

I also don’t talk about his Original fit much, but it's still so slay. I like how Crowley is wearing dark gray and not just black in his beginning outfit, because it already shows that he’s not quite on the side of evil but a shade of gray. He never was on the side of evil…think about it, most of his outfits have some sort of color other than black, even if it’s really dark gray...

I think the Angel fit is important because first of all he’s adorable and secondly it gives us more insight to what his rank could have been based on his sleeves and collar. It also makes me sad because he’s just a little guy !!! Poor thing.

And though it’s one of my favorite things, I don’t talk much about the 70s fit even though he’s literally so handsome I can’t even. The shirt, the boots, the glasses, the moustache...I want to be him, he’s sososo gorgeous aughhhh,,,,, (I also think his big chunky watch is really funny lol)

Oh, and I almost forgot his pretty little turtleneck. This outfit doesn’t vary much from his other outfits, and also it’s possibly normal for him to be wearing this garment, considering he wore a turtleneck in 1966. I just think it’s fascinating how he changed his outfit for a fun little date with Aziraphale going around SoHo. That’s really cute of him.

I also think it’s funny that the only 3 times he wears a turtleneck is 1967, this time, and his angel disguise. They’re his ‘time to be mischievous’ garments, because in 1967 he’s robbing a church, modern day he’s sneaking around SoHo with his angel, and in Heaven, well, he’s infiltrating it and going through secret files.

And as I was editing this, I forgot his Eff Stuff Up Jacket. He wears this in the deleted scene where he took down the phone networks, and idk I just thought it was cool. The fake ID card is great too. He’s doing it with style, he is.

Look at that beautiful demon right there. I love how his lapels point down towards hell when he does this, since he’s doing a hellish task. That’s really neat.

Moving on...

First of all let's talk about the color palette. This is kind of obvious so don’t judge me, but I absolutely love the colors that are picked out for him. Mostly black, yes, but also red (which I find fascinating as it is the contrasting color to Hell's green look and also the stereotypical 'devil' color), and sometimes a dark gray or an oxblood. I think it's just really cool because no matter how many different outfits, Crowley, like Aziraphale, has mostly the same colors.

I think it’s nice (well maybe not nice, nice is a 4 letter word…) how he has a more warm-toned, deep, rich palette while Aziraphale’s colors are more cool toned and light, complementing each other (as always, but you’d assume that the warm, caring angel would have more warm, full tones and the cold, aloof demon would have the opposite).

I’d also like to add that since Crowley has his beautiful snake eyes, he’s likely dichromatic, meaning he can see in two colors, blue and green, but also that he could be colorblind to red (this is probably why Aziraphale dresses in blues, but it also makes me wonder about Crowley and his outfits; does he think he’s dressing in grays or a less saturated red?) Anyway, more images because he's pretty and I like colors :)

His selective color palette means that a lot of what makes his outfits, well, his, is something else. This would be mainly texture. Whether it's scaly (like his snakeskin…‘boots’) or ruffly (see 1827 for a major example of this, just look at these freakin patterns omgomgomg) or an almost stripy texture (like the 1941 suit and Bildad’s fire fit), Crowley's outfits benefit because of those extra touches. They make his outfits stand out, especially with a ‘limited’ color palette.

In addition, he is often dressed in the kind of clothing that accentuates his height and build. He wears waistcoats that almost bring a cinched waist effect (and accentuate that pretty little waist of his!!! god i wanna see him in a corset so bad), and sometimes he wears vertical patterns/textures to make him seem even taller, which is especially fitting for a lean demon.

His shoulders are accentuated with either a puffy sleeve (see 1827 or 1601) or a squared off look (see modern day and various suits from time). It definitely gives a nice touch and affects his overall shape and appearance.

I also just wanted to mention in this section before I move on that I love how his lapels point up like little demon horns. I think that's cool 😈.

Okay this part is one of my favorite parts. Crowley LOOOOOVES to adorn himself. B U T T O N S (this mfer is addicted to buttons), serpent pieces, bows; you name it, it’s probably going to end up in his outfit. He is so fancy and with time brings even more ways to add glitter and glam to his clothing. And he isn’t careless with his accessories either; his extras line up with his outfit and instead of distracting from the rest of his garments, brings it all to a more composed, complex look while making it still look complete and not ‘busy’.

It’s also good to notice that he usually wears jewelry/metal that is either silver or black. Gold isn’t his color and he knows it; this is especially important because that’s a ‘heaven’ color (white, gold, light gray) while silver is more of a hellish color (silver, green, black).

The bows and neckwear:

The buttons !!!:

The snake pieces, the snake pieces! Whether it’s a texture, a silver piece, whatever it may be, there’s always something snake related in his outfit.

Another thing I find fascinating is the fact that modern Crowley wears a lot of clothes that appear in the ‘women’ section and things that would not be considered stereotypically masculine, but rather androgynous. He dresses like a snazzy little lesbian and I adore it. (Looking at those super skinny, too tight jeans,,,)

Girl you ATE.

I am now going to go on a tangent about the fact that Crowley is not afraid to dress in a way that would worry and/or agitate people. He plays with expression and probably loves when people give him weird stares. Whether he dresses in a surprisingly feminine way (see Mesopotamia, see the Crucifixion, see Ashtoreth), whether he dresses like a mourner (see Rome and kind of 1827 a little bit), whether his outfits go against the status quo (literally pick your poison), he is always doing it in style.

Images:

It's interesting for her/him/whatever Crowley wants forever to dress more feminine at the earlier two times, because it would be more customary for her to be accompanied by a man, meaning she's giving off the vibes that she's related to Aziraphale by blood or marriage. I think that's cute tbh. I also love Ashtoreth, she is SERVING, I love her hair, I love her vibe, I love how she was inspired by Mary Poppins. She reminds me of Mrs. Andrews from the Mary Poppins musical.

More images:

I didn’t know where to put this but I wanted to mention that Crowley in 1827 is dressed masculine but more flamboyant than Aziraphale at this time, and corrects pronouns/honorifics when Mr. Dalrymple tried to say ‘Mr.’ Nonbinary ICON right there I love them.

Okay now let me give a more fascinating and detailed example of Crowley being a weird little guy, Rome.

Oh, Rome. Crowley is basically dressed like either a dead guy or a tourist tbh and I think that’s hilarious.

The laurel wreaths are usually either for emperors/high class (which was probably what Crowley was going for after tempting one) or they’re in funeral portraits. The wreath represents your achievements in life and Definitely is not street wear.

His hair is definitely not in style with the military chic kind of vibes that were going on at the time like Aziraphale’s–no no no, his curls are more fit to be a lady’s hairstyle (if he’d grown his hair out ofc).

The dark clothes definitely give a mourning kind of palette, but that’s relatively normal with Crowley. What isn’t is his weird shawl thing with the red zig zag that is definitely foreign and most certainly draped the wrong way.

He’s wearing a pin and ring brooch??? That’s definitely not from Rome. That’s more of a British Isles thing–this kind of pin and ring brooch is not from Rome. But it’s very weird because unlike the Romans, who loved snake jewelry as it represented rebirth and healing, the British Isles did not do snake jewelry. So where’d he get this commissioned?

Bro is so unfashionable, and he’s homeless, gay, has aids, and is new in town /ref new in town. His dark glasses are probably the only thing that’s relatively normal here, as it makes sense that his glasses could exist in this time period, whether they be from Rome or any number of other places.

✨Snazzy ✨

Which brings me to my final topic: his sunglasses. I love how they change to reflect himself throughout history. Of course he follows the latest trends in fashion and such, but I also appreciate his little spin on them.

Here are some of my favorite pairs:

So yeah, in summary I love Crowley’s overall design and how it suits him over the course of 6000 (or let’s be real, millions of) years.

What's your favorite outfit (and also can I have a freaking wahoo after this, I'm so out of breath metaphorically)?

PS: I bet you’re wondering, ‘well what about the angelic disguise???’ Well fret not, for I loveloveloveee the heaven disguise. It just didn’t make sense to group it with the things I was talking about earlier, so here goes:

He’s still in grey, which is nice, but it’s really light grey. He also is wearing a turtleneck, which I find funny. Perhaps this is because most of the angels don’t wear a stereotypical dress shirt, so it helps with blending in. His jacket, however, is specifically not heaven-like. It’s far too casual, and even zips up, which leads me to believe that this is supposed to be satire on how professional the angels are supposed to be. He does have the color-coding right, though; he has a white shirt under a darker color jacket.

His thick ass tie is hilarious. It’s bright, it’s flashy, it's glittery, and it would seem very suspicious and attention-grabbing to me if I were an angel. I also find it fascinating that he does this, as gold is shown to be not as fashionable in season 2 (I’ll be using Uriel as an example in a moment). I think he does this so that he can show how tacky angels are and how not up-to-date he is with them.

Crowley’s tie:

Uriel (a very fashionable angel indeed) keeping up with the trends:

You can see in the set of images how the angelic fashion changed from copious amounts of gold to no gold at all.

Finally, I want to talk about his other accessories.

The headband is really silly, and it gives him a little bit of poof in his bangs, which ever so slightly mirrors him when he was an actual angel. The black with light swirls definitely gives off a tacky vibe.

His glasses have lighter colored metal frames, which I find interesting too.

And he didn’t dye his tattoo gold for this btw. He put a freaking STICKER of his tattoo over his actual tattoo. That is HYSTERICAL to me I can’t even.

Overall, the fit almost gives off a Y2K vibe to it. I think that’s interesting too because maybe that’s the last time before the Apocawhoops that he saw the Angels’ clothing? I dunno, and that would also be interesting because he usually tries to dress as modern as possible, maybe he's being a couple decades out of date for the funnies. Anyway, it’s working and it is hella funny. And I love Muriel’s expressions during this scene, they are not convinced.

So, in summary, our snakey boi decided to dress in the tackiest, most satirical way for his angelic disguise. He does not look like a bee in this beehive, he looks like a poorly-dressed wasp, hehe. I wonder how Aziraphale would've reacted if he saw Crowley's disguise...

(also, I didn’t mean for this to end up as a ‘Do you love the color of the sky Crowley’ kind of post, I just find fashion, especially historical, really fascinating and I definitely didn’t get all my words in but I think it’s more than enough for now)

#I think this is literally 2k+ words #Anyway I just love fashion and good omens #good omens #rant #a lu original #i guess #good luck with the images they weren't working for me earlier so i did a weird thing #also this is a lot #but you asked for it and i deliver as always #oh goodness im so scared to post this for no reason #anyway here goes!

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lovewarmsoftdeers · 2 months ago

Text

A Short Love Story of a Lover and a Home

As I was walking, something seemed like it wanted my attention, it was excessively bright.

It’s luring me in; I was captivated by its light.

I was hesitating, afraid it might bite.

However, there’s something about it

That makes me want to stay by its side.

It looks so sturdy and reliable in broad daylight;

On the other hand, it makes you feel safe and warm at night.

And so, I sat outside,

Letting it keep me awake all night.

I was getting comfortable;

Telling stories to this new home seemed right.

I don’t know how, I don’t know when,

I got too carried away; I didn’t know I was already inside.

Maybe while I was talking,

I kept following the warmth of the fire that was starting to ignite.

The home felt so warm, safe, and secure.

I thought to myself,

I don’t want to leave here; I’m sure.

However, I’m still scared because of the last house;

Maybe I’m still unsure.

The home asked me to stay.

It added it did not want me to go away.

How can I? To live in this warmth is what I always pray.

Then, I asked, can I really stay?

You know I’m a bit messy and immature.

It said, “it’s okay;

With you in this home, a love will nurture.”

It knew what I yearned for, so it continued to make efforts to make me stay.

It plucked flowers in its garden and gave them to me, such a heavy bouquet.

It knows flowers will brighten up my colors, no more gray.

It also spoke of tenderness more than it could convey;

It promised a place of comfort, a lot of things actually, enough to fill an essay.

It said it will protect me and promised me its walls, roof, and its whole garden—what a cliché.

You see, it’s not really petals that I’m talking about, but this floweriness is enough to make me sway.

Nevertheless, I hope it knows that this level of kindness is already enough to provide an airway.

It felt so nice and reassuring that I forgot how much words weigh.

Now that I think about it again, I really hoped it was truly just lilies on my doorway.

Despite all of this, I’m still terrified to prolong my stay, as it is not my home.

It said, “I don’t want anyone else to live here more than you,

I will not let you roam.”

Butterflies – it’s like a line from a poem.

I dreamt of you as a person last night, I’m having a love syndrome.

Our lips brushed softly against one another in the garden,

Our only witness is the moon and a gnome.

Are we a bit too fast?

If so, I just hope you’re my last.

Anyhow, the kiss from last night made me forget everything about the past.

Even though it might be just a dream, I must confess…

I can’t take my mind off of your lips;

I can’t take it anymore, it’s like an apocalypse.

I can remember it being so sweet, soft, and tender…

If you really want me, I surrender.

Without realizing, my heart starts to whisper,

‘I hope we could live in this home together.’

I couldn’t really say it out loud; all I could do is hope life with you would last forever.

Now, more than a tenant of the home, can I be something more?

Can I be something more than a caretaker,

perhaps your lover?

I’m not this sweet to write a poem; what a pretender.

But, how can I not be like this? You’re my defender.

So big and strong, there’s no contender.

I don’t need to ask for anything; the home’s naturally a provider.

And as I hear you whisper to my ear, “I would protect her,”

I rest on you, safely and soundly.

Blanket so warm, I just wish it was always wrapped around me.

There’s a theory about getting comfortable; they say it’s chemistry.

Apparently, oxytocin flows; it lulls me into tranquility.

That’s what I’m experiencing in your warmth; I feel sleepy.

And you saw me like this;

You even said you loved how I talked so softly.

Honey, it’s because the gentleness of your love is finding its way into my heart so deeply.

As time went by, all the hesitancy in my body was gone.

This growing love for you will forever live on.

And so, I gathered all my courage and whispered to the air,

“This warmth and security you give me, I will forever cherish and care.”

“No house ever gave me the peace I was looking for until I lived in yours.

And just to let you know, pieces of you are hidden in the chest of my drawers.

Once you open it, you'll be overwhelmed by the love that pours.

Honey, if all it takes to care for you and for me to stay in this home is by doing house chores,

I would gladly do so forever.

Just promise to always walk with me in the garden of roses,

and to never let go of my hand as we face the thorns that the garden encloses.”

“Hold me tight, keep me warm, say that you love me, and I will forever be yours.”

Days passed; I am happily living within your walls.

You bring out the kid in me; you let me run around the halls.

But often I wonder, why am I only allowed in one room, when I see another door.

I thought of looking to see inside, but they’re always shut.

So, I said, “I long to grow familiar with this home, so please give me a tour.”

It said, “You don’t have to go inside the other room.” I felt discomfort in my gut.

I’m such an overthinker, obviously it’s just setting a boundary.

I understand that it’s its privacy.

But some part of me still longs to see.

However, I don’t want to insist, I’ll just endure feeling crappy.

I’m not sure, but I felt something.

I’m sure it wasn’t an earthquake,

But I can feel the house subtly crumbling.

I have no idea what’s happening, I hope the house’s soul stops hiding.

I need to breath first, I’m panicking.

Gosh, it’s so hard being too sensitive.

I really hope I wasn’t this destructive.

Perhaps… was it me?

Am I not taking care of the house properly?

I really hope the house would say something—I’m going crazy.

Wait, how did I come from feeling safe to slowly tearing?

I hope I’m not doing it again, self-sabotaging.

But, can I just ask, how did it become so unreassuring?

I apologize, I need to calm down, I’m panicking.

I told myself, “Don’t do the same mistake again,

You know it’s agonizing.”

I can’t stop, fear is swallowing me

I’m now battling with my mind every day, I’m getting weary

Can’t you see I’m going crazy?

Say something, I plea

I can feel the house starting to get cold

I see the flowers in its garden starts to wither

Is this because the season is changing?

No, it’s too fast.

I just realized there was no opening in the house for me to see what’s happening.

The lights are getting dimmer;

Night comes, and the darkness starts consuming me.

I’m afraid—I can’t sense the warmth anymore.

I started looking for the fire that once ignited when I first came in

But where is it?

I need to ignite it again.

I’m afraid this house will be so cold that it’s no longer livable.

Nevertheless, I will do my best to create that spark again and ignite a fire.

I will keep living here.

This is just temporary.

The house no longer plants flowers in its garden.

The garden of roses no longer has petals, only thorns.

The fire… is starting to get smaller.

What is this new experience in the house?

This was not part of the lease.

I don’t like it.

I’m not used to this.

This isn’t what I signed up for.

Is this still the same house I was living in a few days ago?

But I still don’t want to leave; let me stay.

Okay, breathe.

Sometimes love can be bittersweet.

But, remember, if everything goes wrong,

you can always retreat.

Home, let’s talk.

I hope you won’t keep me locked.

I hope you won’t keep me in the dark.

Most importantly, I really hope you won’t let anything dim the spark.

All of a sudden, I felt a cold disturbing breeze.

It was the slow opening of its main door; I don’t feel at ease.

It let me take a peek outside to see what’s happening

As I peeked, I was disheartened to see it really was a storm forming.

I feel the house crumbling.

It always seemed so strong,

but the truth is, it’s barely managing.

It slowly revealed itself to me

I was dejected to see sustained cracks

I really hope this was just chapter of our story

Not the end—not even our story’s climax.

I can tell the house is having a hard time tending to me

I don’t want to lose the house, so I’m doing everything I can in a hurry.

As I look into our future, how did it become so blurry?

I pray… please… let this not be only a memory.

I did not expect the house to be this damaged

It was not like this when it was introduced to me

I just really wish the house’s soul would give me its truth

Now, I’m trying to find my way to you, but

Everything is locked

Except the main door.

Everything’s dark

Even the flower with the brightest color.

How did we come to this?

Was the storm that devastating?

I hope you let me take care of you while there’s an ongoing disaster.

The door of that room was still shut

You won’t let me in, you won’t let me see your soul

I feel cold here, what more inside there?

Do you have a blanket to keep your soul warm?

If there’s none, let me wrap my arms around you

I called for your soul a lot of times in the gentlest way I know

Thinking I could help you survive this storm

No matter what I do,

the door was still shut.

The storm is getting stronger

Its wrath is slowly destroying the house

As I looked around,

There are no more walls to protect me

A roof to shelter me

A garden to comfort me

A fire to warm me

And I see

The only safe place

was the room where your soul is

It has no windows

or anything to let the light in

the walls are so strong

nothing won’t let it budge

not to mention, the door was heavily shut

You locked yourself up and you have no idea what’s happening outside your room.

It might protect your soul for a brief moment

But you just lost your own home.

It’s not self-protecting

It’s self-destructing.

Now, I am forced to evacuate

As I am heavily affected.

I’m waiting for you to get me

But I see you’re still locked in your little room

My love…

Where did you go?

Why did you lock yourself in?

I can’t see you

Are you still there?

I wandered for days trying to look for you

Then for the first time

I heard the trembling voice of your wounded soul

I don’t know if I will happy that you finally spoke to me

Or I will be disheartened by your words

“Let’s stop living together, I can’t shelter you no more.”

I can’t do anything

So, I left

But even so, I tried to fight

Offering my own home to shelter his vulnerable soul

Despite this, you did not show yourself to me again.

That’s the first and the last time your soul spoke to me

I heard nothing from you from then on.

Days has passed, it’s still lingering around me.

I hope this misery won’t last for years; I worry.

Every day I wake up, I feel my heart being torn.

Not just at night, but also at morning, I mourn.

I didn’t know you would be gone so soon, you’re like a yawn.

I don’t want to dwell anymore, but I’m barely moving on.

You keep appearing in my dreams

I wonder if I show up in yours.

You never once left my mind

And I hope I still linger in yours.

I’m either feeling everything at once

Or I’m just numb

This feeling is miserable

I really hope I don’t wake up.

I stopped wandering around, and went home to my house.

I got home, I was devastated to see its state

I was too focused on saving someone else’s house

That I forgot my own home is heavily affected by the storm too.

It’s so disheartening.

The thought of needing to repair my house again is weakening.

I’m so tired.

Let me just rest for a while.

I think it will take a very long time to repair this broken home.

But, come to think of it, I can build a much more stable foundation.

It might be difficult, but I’ll be able to live on my own.

In hindsight, I think I could’ve been a much better tenant.

I did so many things out of fear, when I could’ve been a little bit careful.

I was so afraid; I ignited the fire too much that it’s starting to burn everything out.

I can’t forgive myself, but I’m learning to

I only did what I know at the time

And I did everything out of love.

However, if given the chance, I really want to apologize.

And if I can be greedy, I hope you would give me a second chance.

Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I’m still rebuilding my home.

I hope you’re taking your time to rebuild yours too.

And I hope you won’t have another room for your soul to hide onto again.

Let your soul roam free.

Let your soul feel.

I was hurt and I could be mad

However, the termination of the lease was called for.

I had to leave as it’s not capable of protecting me anymore.

And it had to eliminate its tenant as its starting to crumble.

So, to not hurt anyone, it was necessary.

However, I hope it knew I was willing to stay whatever state it might be in.

There is one thing I am mad about though

I grew to resent the flowers in its garden.

Too many flowers were given to me but all of it has withered.

Obviously, flowers that were plucked out tend to wither faster.

Now, every time I’m given plucked out flowers,

I get overwhelmingly mad.

I would prefer it more if they were to plant it in my garden instead.

Rather than letting it wither, it will allow the flowers to bloom beautifully.

I’ve been living in my house

slowly, taking my time to rebuild it.

I’m doing everything I can to build a much more stable foundation,

stronger walls

and resistant-proof roofs.

Also, my small lovely garden.

Where I can rest

Keep myself warm

and a place to pour out my love to.

I will plant my own flowers

and let it bloom inside me.

Sometimes, it gets lonely

but it’s the only thing that I could do

for me.

However, I will admit that

Until now, I still see that house.

Sometimes coincidentally,

sometimes intentionally.

It still aches, but I can bear it.

The storm has calmed down, and I see the house now bathing under the sun.

I see it’s also trying to rebuild itself

I just hope it won’t overlook its cracks.

I’m happy to know it somehow survived the storm.

I just really wished I was there to help it rebuild itself.

However, as much as I wanted to,

I’m also my own home.

I remember, I am a lover.

It’s not my job to fix broken houses.

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