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demo (prologue + ch.1 & 2, 118k words)
please mind the content warnings!
cog forum post
You are one of the most famous yet mysterious characters of the 21st century rock scene.
It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. You and your friends formed a band, and after years of practice in a garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.
It’s a meteoric rise— until it isn’t.
And now, a decade after your band has disappeared from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be.
Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)
Play as a pop-rock vocalist
Name your band and customize your music, lyrics and image
Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears
Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/possibly stalker
Give one hell of an interview
Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac… and all sorts of music-related drama.
TW: themes of mental illness, unhealthy relationships, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm, SA-related trauma
ROs:
Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”
She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…
Stevie is tall and skinny with light brown skin and extremely long, curly black hair which she always wears in a wet look. She has big, dark brown eyes and a soft face.
Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”
Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget.
Paul is very tall, broad-backed and thickly muscled with light skin, shoulder-length slicked back brown hair and bottle green eyes.
Paulette is of average height with an hourglass/slim thick figure. She has dark brown hair with parted bangs and light blonde strands dyed into it. Her eyes are bottle green.
Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”
Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past.
Angel is of average height and build with a warm beige complexion and long black hair. He has a square jaw with an occasional five o’clock shadow and brown eyes.
Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them.”
Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.
Lincoln (m) is short and lean, with an angular face and wavy blond hair. His eyes are cobalt blue.
Lincoln (f) is petite and tan, with a youthful, round face and chin-length blond beach waves. Her eyes are cobalt blue.
Others:
Maddox Wells (m), drummer
Another one of your oldest friends. You don’t much like to talk about what happened with him.
Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they used to try to make me disappear with their fog machine.”
After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.
Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”
Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean, to be honest.
Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”
The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.
Addendum: NSFW alphabet masterlist
Zima pt. 1 and pt. 2
Stevie
Lincoln
Angel
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Please consider reblogging <3
#interactive fiction#choicescript#hosted games#romance options#if wip#choose your own adventure#if: wip#music inspired#demo update#demo available#dashingdon
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Guard Dogs
pairings: Deadpool x reader x Wolverine
warnings: drinking, violence, swearing, creepy guy in a bar, crude humor
summary: you never have to worry when you go out, your guard dogs are always there to protect you
a/n: can be perceived as romantic or platonic, it’s not specified! Also I want to thank everyone who’s been supporting my stories and all the kind words I’ve received!
Going out alone wasn’t something you liked to do, but unfortunately there were a lot of instances in which you had to. The world itself wasn’t a safe place, both Wade and Logan knew that, in fact it was one of the few things they could always agree on.
Today was no different, do your usual chores, relax, eat, work, but there was something else you wanted to do, a little treat for all your hard work, “Let’s go drinking tonight!”
Wade and Logan looked up from whatever they were doing. You had bursted into their apartment without a notice.
It was normal for all three of you to hang out, but it was unusual for you guys to all go to a bar together. Logan was the heaviest drinker of the group, he knew where to go, Wade would go with his friends mostly, and you didn’t treat yourself to this as much.
“Alright,” Logan mumbled, his eyes on whatever stories the local news channel had on, controller in one hand his head in the other.
“Woah the big bad wolf wants to be seen out with us?!” Wade exclaimed, referring to Logan, “Sign me up!” Logan rolled his eyes at the comment his ‘friend’ made, not in the mood to argue with him.
“Okay I’ll be back at 7,” You told the men, closing the door heading back to your own apartment.
“I need to go put on my good toupee!” Wade claps his hands together, heading towards his bathroom, grabbing the staplers on his way.
Logan’s eyes still glued to the television yells over to him, “They’re all ugly don’t worry.” Wade flips him off, closing the door.
Getting ready was something that made time fly by, because before anyone knew it 7 was already here. The three musketeers were ready for their adventure.
Logan led the way, knowing the best places in the city despite being here for the shortest amount of time. Wade was on your right fixing his “hair system” as he made some snarky remarks at Logan.
You walked close to Wade unaware of what was going on.
The bar was nice, it had some stools, a few benches and normal tables for bigger groups. Logan sat himself on the stools by the bartender knowing he’d get liquor much faster this way. Wade sat a seat away from Logan leaving you space in the middle of the two, which you didn’t mind at all.
“Give me another drink,” Logan called to the bar keep.
“There you go just fucking up that liver again,” Wade smirked at him, just trying to get under his skin.
“Shut the fuck up before I rip off that toupee and shove it right up your-”
Before Logan could finish Wade quickly put his finger up to his mouth, “Woah there peanut, I don’t do pegging on the first date,”
“If this wasn’t a public bar I’d cut that oversized head of yours off,”
You laughed as Logan and Wades bickering continued. Suddenly you noticed as the music seemed to turn off, normally you wouldn’t mind but tonight a nice song would’ve been good so you quietly excuse yourself from the situation.
You found yourself walking over to the jukebox; your eyes examining the song selections before picking ‘Million Dollar Man’ by Lana Del Rey (Ldr mentioned).
Having put on your song you found yourself walking back to the stool seat before a man walked in front of you.
“What’s a pretty lady like you doing by herself?” His tone was slurred, obviously from drinking too much. He wasn’t tall and he looked like he’d just woken up.
You gave a quiet sigh, “Oh I’m not alone,” You gave him a slight smile hoping he’d get the memo.
The man looked around and smiled creepily at you, “I don’t see anyone” He slowly took some more steps closer to you.
“How ‘bout now Bub,” Logan’s voice boomed from behind you, you felt his hand on your shoulder.
The creep gave an annoyed eye roll. Logan was taller than the man by a lot, and was definitely more intimidating.
“We were just talking, why don’t you leave us alone?” He began to mock Logan, this only riled him up some more.
“I’ll give you three seconds to walk away before I get serious,” Logan’s eyes were trained on the man, his arms were now crossed over his chest, visibly annoyed.
The man let out a dry chuckle, “Yeah okay what are you gonna do buddy?”
“We’re gonna fuck you in the ass,” Wade said as he showed up behind the man and grabbed his head, smashing it into the bar. Logan then brought the man back up just to knee him in the stomach before throwing him on the ground.
Everyone else started to get up after seeing the commotion, obviously itching for a fight, but you didn’t waste anytime for that grabbing both men and running out of the bar.
“Jesus Wade did you have to say that?” You asked him, wondering why he thought ass play was a threat.
“Do not use my name in vein,” he responded, clearly unbothered by his remark.
Logan gruffed at the evening you guys had, visibly tired from all that went on.
“We need to stop going out together,” you said looking at the street light.
“Let’s watch a movie at my place next time!” Wade offered, a cheery expression on his face.
“Yea whatever but you better not pick a fucking porno again,” Logan glared at him remembering the last time Wade picked a movie for the three of you to watch.
“I think it makes for good team bonding!”
#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#wolverine#deadpool#marvel#wolverine x reader#logan howlett#x men#x reader#deadpool x reader#wade wilson#wade wilson x reader#xreader
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"You think you won 'cause you got the man. But honey, you'll always be a fan" | CL16
Parings: Charles Leclerc x ex!reader.
Summary: Charles is now dating a copy of you and you don’t know how to feel about it.
Now playing: "always be a fan" by Eva Grace.
Word count: +1,2k.
Warnings: angst. Not a native English speaker so there could be errors. Not proofread.
Author's note: I don’t even know if this is good but yeah. Remember to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)
MASTERLIST
You got to the party with your friend around 2 am in the morning. It was a hot autumn. You were invited to a private party. You didn’t know the people but as you were a public figure the invitation was sent.
Before coming you were kind of upset. You didn’t wanna come to be honest. You were so fed up with Charles’ new girl. She copied everything you did. Her hair is exactly the same. You posted your outfit earlier in the night on Instagram - to then see the screenshot one of your friends sent you of her story wearing just the same. You couldn’t believe it. You were angry and scared at the same time. Why was she so obsessed with you? And also, why did Charles choose a copycat of your person?
You were really triggered but tried to brush it off. It was a girl’s night. Or well, a girl’s night with franco colapinto and Alex albon included because they were boyfriends to Lily and Sara.
You hanged out at a bar first not sure if you wanted to go to the party in question. But after a few drinks we wanted to dance.
Franco and Alex in two different cars of course - drove to the party while listening to David Guetta and Lady Gaga. Or at least in Franco’s car where you were was like that.
You were having so much fun and made your mind so it could be the best night of your life. This was rare to happen within your friends because of your busy schedule. So you were grateful every single minute you spent with them.
Once you all got to the party, the dj was playing Latin music and franco was in his sauce. You danced around with everyone and laughed. Having fun with the people you loved. After dancing for a while you were thirsty so decided to go to the bar and order a drink. Sara went with you.
When you got to the bar you asked for a gin tonic and Sara for vodka. You joked around because of her selection.
The barman was really handsome and the drunk you started chatting and flirting with him. Eventually you got his number and an extra gin tonic for free. You felt victorious. And Sara was just laughing - you always got what you wanted… excepts for Charles.
Remembering Charles wasn’t the best stragedy to enjoy the night. You missed his voice so much. His smell. His grip. You needed to drink that glass already. And so you did. Bet you were gonna be drunker by the minute. But you didn’t care. You wanted to forget.
Forget him. And forget he changed you for a copycat. And forget the copycat. God she was like your fan. Like a crazy one. You were drinking with Sara and dancing the two together in the middle of the dance floor when you opened your eyes so big Sara thought you were gonna lose them.
There they were. Charles and your fan. Kissing on the dance floor. Just 10 people of distance. You almost choke with the gin tonic. You felt hurt. You wanted to run away from there and hide. But you were drunk and so furious you couldn’t think straight.
You walked towards them and started dancing next to them grabbing an unknown guy who was dancing there. You started looking at them so you could take their attention. Sara couldn’t believe her eyes. She knows you could go mad sometimes but not like this. She started dancing just to watch you and see you wouldn’t kill the poor insecure girl Charles is now dating.
“Oh I’m sorry I thought I was looking in the mirror!” I exclaimed when I purposely bumped into them, spilling my free drink all over her clothes. “You look just like me! Like you’re my fan! Do you want a picture?” You said like you were talking with some of your fans but cinical and the undertone was full of hatred.
“Y/n” said Charles surprised to see you and at the same time pissed for what you were doing. His girl looked at you without knowing what to do.
“Actually I think you’re my clone!” His girl said and you felt your anger grow. You just rolled your eyes and looked at Charles.
“If I knew you were leaving me for my copycat I would’ve killed you. You date her as she is better than me? What don’t I have that she does indeed? You’re so pathetic Charles. I wanted us to have a future and you just run scared. You are no man for anyone. I understand why now” you said spitting your words gritty.
“This is not the moment to talk about it y/n” he said making you roll your eyes again. His girl just fixed her outfit and left Charles to you heading to the bathroom. You smiled looking at her. Once you two were alone you could feel the tension. He was angry. Very angry.
“What’s wrong with you? Could you just ignore us? What you said it’s so immature! You’re so obsessed with me you need to seek help!” Oh god he was furious. Just as you were. But those words hurt you like hell.
“Me? Obsessed? Are you for real Charles? Don’t act like you wake up and look at her and you don’t see me! She has the same Brazil shirt I have! She has the same hair color! She even has lens with my eyes color! Or are you insane and you don’t see it? You once said I was the love of your life then one day to another you’re dating her who is obsessed with me as if it wasn’t a big deal or even obvious! You’re pathetic Charles. And you know what’s worse? That I still love you like crazy. And you don’t fucking deserve it!” You were so angry. In that moment Charles’ face changed with your confession. Because he was still in love with you but he didn’t have the balls to come back and talk about it. So he found her instead. He was so immature too.
“Wait y/n. I still love you too” he said, reaching for your face but you backed off. You just couldn’t do it anymore.
“No Charles. You don’t. If you did, you would have come like a normal person and talked about it. Forget about me. Hope you can be happily ever after with my fan. I have a life to take care of before getting destroyed again by you. I’m not letting you do that to me again. You had your chance. It 's too late now.” You said and walked out of the dance floor to the table your friends were in. Sara followed you. The adrenaline didn't let you even see she was there with you the whole time.
You really needed to forget about what just happened.
You drink whiskey from one of your friend’s glass. You didn’t like whiskey. But you also didn’t like to admit you still loved Charles but you couldn’t let him hurt you.
Ever again.
——————————————————————————————
Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!
#charles leclerc x female oc#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1
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Part One Two Three
Dustin looks squirrely, which is as weird as it is nerve wracking for Steve. When Dustin looks squirrely it’s usually shit like he’s keeping a baby fucking demo dog as a pet.
Which Steve just...doesn’t want to deal with it any more. He’s had enough. He needs Dustin to have normal kid shit problems, not apocalyptic ones.
So Steve is, silently, praying to whoever will listen that Dustin wants, like, the sex talk or something, and not that there’s an inter-dimensional creature with a taste for nougat in Hawkins.
“Eddie says he’s okay.”
Which, Steve just kind of shrugs, because it’s the same message Dustin’s been bringing back for months. Nancy and Robin have stopped to listen too. John and Argyle have gone on a snack run and the rest of the kids are outside; so this feels kind of worryingly tactical on Dustin’s part that he’s telling a very select group this information.
“I’m pretty sure he isn’t, though.”
“Okkkayyyy...tell us what’s going on,” Robin leans against the counter, and Steve is so glad Dustin chose to do this with the girls here.
“Well,” and Dustin looks squirrely again and Steve figures he...he thinks he must be betraying Eddie, or something, “I thought he was, at first, you know? He was planning campaigns and writing music and just seemed to be...you know. Normal.”
“But…”
“Well he...the last few times I’ve been there he...he hasn’t gotten out of bed and,” Dustin wrinkles his nose, ready for the big betrayal, “there’s always a lot of empty like, beer cans and stuff and...he smells kind of. Bad.”
The girls looks at each other before Nancy finally says, “we will go and see him, don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”
Steve watches as Dustin relaxes, and realizes for the first time that this was, probably, way over Dustin’s pay grade, emotionally speaking. They are the adults, and dealing with someone who...well, it’s got to be depression, right? Eddie was never okay, he was faking to start with. Even Steve can figure that out from what Dustin’s just said. Just because they’ve dealt with alternate dimensions and world ending monsters, it doesn’t mean that Dustin is equipped to deal with shit like this – yeah, definitely heavy stuff for a kid. And Eddie, would Eddie have been able to fake it if say the girls, or Steve, had gone over? Would they have noticed a problem that Dustin just, didn’t? Because for all they’ve been through, they’re still just kids. Dustin might not have noticed that Eddie was dragging himself out of bed and cleaning up just for the one or two hours a week that Dustin was stopping by.
But Robin would have...and Nancy definitely would have.
And now Eddie doesn’t have the energy to just...fake it any more, simple as.
This is heavy shit, too heavy for Dustin to have to deal with.
And that’s how Steve ends up ferrying the girls to the brand new Munson trailer, right at the other end of the park from where the old one was. Nancy’s in full investigative reporter mode, Steve can sense it. Luckily, Robin goes first, " we shouldn't have left him this long."
Nancy hums in agreement.
The doors not locked and no one answers, so they all end up spilling unceremoniously into the bedroom.
Dustin was being kind; it reeks of stale cigarettes and sweat. He was being nice about the beer cans too; it’s not just beer cans, worryingly there’s also empty vodka bottles and even a couple of wine bottles in the mix.
This is not something that has happened recently; this has been going on for months.
The place is a mess. Like a can’t even see the floor kind of mess.
In the middle of his visibly dirty bedding, Eddie snores on, oblivious.
“Steve, you get him in the shower, Robin and I will clean this up.”
Steve’s dubious, but he shakes Eddie’s shoulder gently. Nothing.
He tries again, firmer this time, and Eddie comes awake with an undignified snort and hands flapping at Steve’s, trying to get the movement to stop.
Steve can hear the girls rummaging out in the kitchen, looking for trash bags and rubber gloves, maybe a box for the bottles.
Maybe two boxes.
Steve shakes him again, “Eddie come on.”
Eddie does blink up at him then, clearly groggy and confused, but he smiles. Smiles so big and happy, he grasps one of Steve’s hands now, rather than trying to push it away, still smiling, he pulls it up to his mouth and kisses Steve’s knuckles softly.
Steve doesn’t know what his face is doing, but Eddie’s frowning, something like realization dawns on Eddie’s face, and then throwing Steve’s hand away like it’s burning him. Eddie moves quick, scrambling to the edge of the bed and leaning over it, and Steve realizes what’s about to happen a second too late; Eddie starts to throw up just as Steve moves, so his sneakers do get splattered a little bit.
Which...Steve’s probably trudged through worse, realistically speaking. There’s not really anything Steve can do about it now, so he gingerly sidesteps the splatter of vomit and, briefly, feels really sorry for the girls, “come on Munson, up.”
Eddie grumbles nonsensically, but does allow Steve to heave him up, his head lolling, still clearly very drunk. Eddie doesn’t put up much of a fight when Steve strips him; made easy by the fact that he’s wearing a stained tee shirt and dirty boxers that Steve abandons in a smelly pile on the bathroom floor.
He’s too thin; far too thin. Barely any weight at all on Steve’s arm, ribs all knobbly and skin stretched strangely over his joints.
Eddie slides to the floor under the warm water and Steve, not wanting to get any damper, makes no effort to stop him. At least sitting on the floor he’s safe; he can’t fall any further. Steve vaguely recalls something about little kids being able to drown in an inch of water, and keeps half an eye on Eddie as he digs around for toiletries.
He finds a sad bar of soap and shudders, but it’ll do. Steve gives Eddie the most perfunctory scrub down ever, doing his best not to look at or be aware of any part of Eddie’s body as he flicks the cloth over it.
The towel that’s hanging up looks dubious, but better than nothing.
Eddie’s showing no sign of rousing; Steve has no idea if he’s just...really really drunk still, or if he’s hiding. Steve’s brain prods at what he saw; Eddie’s reaction to him.
There’s one logical conclusion that he’s trying his best to avoid. Unfortunately, no matter how he angles it...his conclusion remains the same. There’s one obvious answer. Eddie looks like a sad drowned rat under the water, and Steve shuts it off, covering him with the one sad towel.
Eddie shivers without the heat of the water, and Steve tries not to feel guilty. This isn’t his fault. He’s not...if Eddie had a Steve, he’s not him. He didn’t, die, or anything. It’s a bit of a headfuck, and thankfully Robin interrupts by shoving the door open far enough to press through a bundle of clothes; black sleep pants and a hoodie, but better than nothing, “there’s no clean clothes, it’s the best we could find,” she whispers.
Which, okay, they’re kind of musty, but at least not obviously dirty.
Eddie huffs through Steve pulling his clothes on, standing awkwardly as Steve pulls his pants up like you would with a little kid.
Steve dumps him on the couch; immediately feeling bad about the whole thing. Guilt, maybe, but he pushes that away harshly because this isn’t Steve’s fault. It’s no one’s fault.
Well, except for the labs and then One. But there’s no one here to blame and it’s...ridiculous that Steve would feel bad about it.
This isn’t the time. Eddie’s passed out again, so Steve gets a glass of water from the kitchen, leaving it on the table where Eddie will find it, before he goes to help the girls.
“We absolutely cannot leave him here.”
“No, agreed, being alone is not good for him.”
“He’s not alone,” Steve protests, “Wayne’s here.”
“And Wayne works twelve hour nights six days a week and has done nothing about this so far,” Nancy replies, brooking no argument, “we’ll take him to yours, he needs to dry out.”
“Mine?” Steve squeaks, “look, uhm, maybe not mine-”
“Why not yours?” Robin cuts him off, “you have the space, and no one else around. I can come and stay, help you keep an eye on him.”
And although all of that is true, Steve doesn’t know how to tell them what he’s just figured out, and having Eddie in his house feels...awkward as fuck.
Eddie’s like a zombie out of one of his games. He has to be encouraged out of bed, Robin putting herself to the task, and that takes a good hour on the really bad days. He picks at toast. He picks at eggs. He picks at whatever's put in front of him.
He doesn’t fight it when they take the spirits away, he doesn’t fight it when he’s allocated three beers a day; he never looks for more. He doesn’t fight anything. He’s broken. So broken Steve has no idea what to do about it. The kids come and go, maintaining conversation around Eddie that Eddie will vaguely engage with whenever one of the kids addresses him directly.
Otherwise he sits there, inert. The kids talk about school and their nerd games and all that normal stuff, and then they leave again.
Sometimes it’s just Eddie and Steve in the house, and that's enough to make Steve want to throw himself into the lake; Eddie’s presence is uncomfortable, and Steve immediately feels guilt every time he feels like that.
Eddie saved their lives. Eddie fought off actual mind control and took out One like it was nothing. Eddie saved the world, at great fucking sacrifice to himself, and Steve feels like a total dipshit every time he has to remind himself of it.
He has to do something for Eddie. He has to try and get through to him somehow.
He has an idea, and when he tells Robin he’s going out for a bit, she doesn’t question it.
Steve delivers Wayne an update when he picks up Eddie’s records. Wayne seems like a good guy, even though he’s completely out of his depth with Eddie, he seems to be able to roll with the punches. He believes the kids want what’s best for Eddie, and that seems to be enough for him for now.
Eddie’s lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing.
Steve picks one of his records at random, ‘Holy Diver. Dio,’ and puts it on the record player on low. He has Eddie’s guitar too, his notebooks, the rule books from his dumb game. Steve brings it all in in bits and pieces and leaves it on the coffee table. He leans Eddie’s guitar against the end of the couch.
By the time he’s finished, Eddie seems more alert; is actually watching Steve. Steve gives him a nod, and leaves him to it.
It changes something. Something undefinable. Eddie seems to be...making an effort. Robin says she thinks he’s coming around; remembering how to be a person. She thinks he’s making a good first step. He still drinks three beers a day, but they’re pretty much the weakest ones available and Steve thinks he’s doing it more out of habit than anything. There’s no other alcohol in the house.
What Steve thinks he knows has been gnawing at him too. Bothering his insides. He understands the girls logic; this is probably the best place for Eddie to be, but given what Steve thinks he’s figured out, this might also be the absolute worst place for Eddie to be.
He feels like he’s haunting him; the dead love of Eddie’s life, following him around every single day. Steve can’t even imagine what that’s like; Eddie even just having to look at him must hurt. Other questions always follow, like, why Steve? Was it random? Eddie must be gay, right?
Was Steve just the easiest one for Eddie’s brain to summon up in the moment? Or was there something else there, feelings that were easy to manipulate? Was there a reason it was Steve, or not?
He could spend hours chasing the thoughts if he let himself. Instead he makes himself and Eddie something to eat, a couple of sandwiches, and then takes them through. He sits, eating his own, and watching as Eddie nibbles on his. Things have moved; even as Steve watches, Eddie puts down the sandwich and scribbles in his notebook.
Steve’s just getting up to leave when he stops at the sound of Eddie clearing his throat, he still won’t look at Steve when he speaks, “thanks, uhm, for getting my stuff.”
It’s been a while since Eddie has spoken to Steve directly, and Steve hesitates a second, feeling like this is his chance to try and...he doesn’t know. Say something meaningful. Fix Eddie, somehow, say the exact right thing to make it better, eventually he just says, “no problem, man.”
Eddie nods, Steve waits in case there's more, but there doesn’t seem to be. He makes it to the kitchen door before Eddie speaks again, “you guys, you’ve probably saved my life.”
He is looking up as Steve now, chewing on the end of his pencil nervously, “you saved ours first,” Steve tells him.
Eddie huffs out the smallest, driest laugh, “didn’t realize it was a competition, Harrington.”
Steve leaves him to it, it’s not much, but it’s a start.
“You had a kid, right? Tell me about them?” It’s a push Steve knows. Their brief conversations turning into the occasional ten minutes on the deck when they both go out for a cigarette might have become regular, but they’re by no means secure. Steve might be about to bring the whole fragile thing down, but he needs to know. It’s eating him alive.
Eddie just shakes his head, ‘no.’ and sips at the beer he has. A beer Steve is pretty sure Eddie should not have, even if it is only a psychological thing, at this point, but Robin continues to be adamant that Eddie going completely cold turkey would be a really bad idea, so Eddie continues to have an allowance.
‘Well, fuck it,’ Steve thinks, ‘might as well try it,’ “come on, they were ours, right?”
Eddie snorts, “she was always more like you than-” he stops, cutting himself off. But it’s all the confirmation Steve needs.
Eddie looks at him then, horrified, before scrambling up.
“Eddie, stop, it’s okay-” Steve tries.
“Fuck you Harrington,” Eddie growls at him with more emotion than Steve's seen in Eddie since the whole thing happened, and then throws the beer bottle, not at Steve, exactly, but close enough that broken glass scatters around his shoe, beer smattering the patio slabs and the smell of it rising to fill Steve’s nose almost immediately.
Eddie stomps into the house, and Steve can hear Robin asking what happened, clearly concerned; she must have heard the bottle smash, “I cannot stay here with him,” Eddie spits, before the moment passes.
Robin comes out a moment later, “Nancy’s with him, what the fuck just happened?”
Steve’s a little stunned by the confirmation and then the close run in with the beer bottle, but regardless he wouldn’t hide this from Robin, “it was me, Robs. The...Eddie’s wife? I guess, not a wife, me.”
@autumncrocusandladybug @duckyreads @neonfruitbowl @slv-333 @starlight-archer @skys-archive @justdreamersdream @moomkin77 @prazinos @dragonmama76 @lingeringmirth @darkwitchoferie @weirdandabsurd42 @zoeweee @thennic @xiaq @tinyplanet95 @steddieyourself @chrystal-lovee @futuristicunknown86 @grtwdsmwhr @mugloversonly @wonderland-girl143-blog @a-little-unsteddie @marvel-ous-m @ajeff855 @gutterflower77 @thedragonsaunt @xxbottlecapx @hairdryerducks @catateme9 @gleek4twd @jaytriesstrangerthings @rovia2323 @carlajim98 @stevesbipanic @steddiecameraroll @thermofisherscientific @ninjapirateunicorns @whenindoubtb72 @dreamwatch @spectrum-spectre @eddiethehunted @sticknpokelightningbolt @kittycatcrackhead @hawkinshighflunkee @plasticcrotches @metalmunson @rosered93 @p0lybl4nkk @bluexvelvet @nicememerino @semi-precious-stoner @persnicketysquares @bj-freeplay @practicallybegging @yesdangerpls @cryptid-system @nadineseaday @platinum-sunset @bookworm0690 @clockworkballerina
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Media I imagine different fiction podcasts in instead of the media of being a podcast.
TMA: A selection of volumes, relating to the fears, each with those removable covers. Those covers has a victim or two, and then underneath the cover is a really detailed cover. The paper is decoratively ripped, with a kind of scraggly font, and each has a foreword and ‘author’s note’ from Jonathan Sims.
Malevolent: A really gritty graphic novel with deadly detail in each panel, and very little color. Maybe a trinket on each important character has a color? Like Arthur’s eyes being yellow or Oscar’s collar having a blue sheen to it. The novels are long, dramatic, and intimate in a visceral way.
Welcome to Night Vale: Local 58 bullshit. A broadcast on television with low quality images and audio, tacky music, and a kind of 80’s aesthetic. Each episode the words WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE zoom onto the screen, the purple eye behind them. And each weather segment is an animated short by a different artist.
The Penumbra(Juno Steel): A webcomic. Hours spent scrolling downward a comic that has so much color and GEOMETRIC design. Juno and his curvy jaw, brown pie slice eyes, a cartoonishly high collar for his investigator jacket. Nureyev and his sharp square jaw, shimmering jewelry, and stick legs. Characters sticking out of the panels, fonts changing constantly, a little blue Juno that does his narration and *guitar theme plays* each time he appears.
Wolf 359: A classic comic. Issues month by month. Different special covers of the characters in extra dramatic poses or scenes. Even MORE panel breaking than Juno Steel. So MUCH onomatopoeia, even for small things like the clink of a panel or the disapproving hiss of Hilbert in the background. Geometric designs like Juno Steel, but less colorful. Like the superhero art style mixed with a more stylized look.
Midnight Burger: You pull up the Midnight Burger website. They have a hidden page that has a sort of script-comic thing going on, where the art is next to the writing. Small coded in notes from Leif sometimes pop up if you hold your arrow over the art. Links are attached to the parts where Effie and Zebulon play music, linking you to the music so you can listen to it while you read.
Desert Skies: An animated show. Indie, something you’d find on YouTube. The animation is bouncy and incorporates 3D animation alongside the 2D. Maybe the Sphere Movers have 3D models and the staff don’t? The credits are short because it was made by one guy. People are complaining about it on Twitter /j. People are making content farms about it. Everyone is pissed at Corson like they’re pissed at Jax.
The Amelia Project: A sort of simulation video game. You play as Arthur. You listen to their stories and draw pieces of the tale to invent their death. Every once in a while the game transitions to a point and click suspense game where you solve puzzles as Cole and Haines. Maybe there should even be an Operation-esque part of it where you work as Kozlowski.
Ghost Wax: A novel with a lot of pictures spliced in it. The stories are all in a single book, though the book is through Luca’s perspective— so he picks up on the ghost’s body language and Voncid’s reactions. The pictures are tarot cards with each victim as a card. Some are repeat cards— Lorem does not have a card at the end of the story. Nor does Our Home or Evening at the Ardent. The pictures are only white with black line art. No color whatsoever.
Kakos Industries: A company newsletter. Not a broadcast. A newspaper that arrives at your door and has big bold letters with the main story and pictures of the events that happen in the story as it goes. And the Sunday Comic page is full of employee shenanigans. Some innocent… some not.
I am losing my mind.
#the magnus archives#malevolent#welcome to night vale#the penumbra podcast#wolf 359#midnight burger#desert skies#the amelia project#ghost wax#kakos industries
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hi love! can i request a theo x reader something like ‘the moment i knew’ by taylor swift! pretty please with a cherry on top!
hi sweetpea! i love this request, thankyou for asking. i hope i can do it justice! i took a very different turn than i planned to, but i still hope you like it🥰
THE MOMENT I KNEW // THEODORE NOTT X FEM!READER
“i say hopelessly, ‘he said he’d be here.’”
playlist: the moment i knew - taylor swift
summary: in which reader loves her birthday, and theo makes empty promises.
warnings: bad language, angst, hurt/comfort, out of character slytherin group, established relationship.
your birthday had always been your favourite day of the year. you figured it was better than christmas. you loved the season it was in, how pretty the date looked on paper, and you loved the way theo always paid close attention to exactly what you wanted. you weren’t fussy by any means, just particular. you liked a select few people, but your birthday party was always a big bash, the whole of slytherin was always invited. theo made sure you were the centre of attention for everyone.
until he didn’t.
you lay on your bed, anxiously picking at the new colour on your nails, eyes darting back and forth following pansy’s figure. you were already an hour late for your own party, still deciding what to wear. you’d already picked an outfit, but pansy decided it simply wasn’t good enough. it was your seventeenth, you could finally use magic outside of school. this one needed to be special.
“i found it! this one is perfect.” she pulled out a simple yet elegant party dress, holding it up to your body as you lay on the bed, arms by your sides. “right. up you get, put the dress on, and we’re off.” you sighed in relief, quickly slipping on the dress, leaving your legs bare and tugging on a pair of heels she’d sprung from nowhere. “i love it. and so will theo. i bet he’s wondering where you are, you’re never late for your party.”
you hummed in response, touching up the red lipstick you adorned and linking your arm in pansy’s. you grinned as cheers erupted from the common room, the boys running up to you with smiles on their faces. “happy birthday, love.” enzo placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek, clearly having taken advantage of your absence for an hour. mattheo offered a hand, guiding you down the rest of the steps while draco fawned over pansy. “you look gorgeous. don’t tell theo i said that. he might curse me.” blaise’s eyes were wide and you let out a chuckle, eyes darting around the room.
“where is he?” your brows were furrowed, scanning the room in search of your boyfriend. “he’s not here yet…” you frowned, before snapping yourself out of it, bringing a smile to your lips. you were the birthday girl, after all. and appearances were everything. “i’m sure he’ll turn up, sweetheart.” mattheo sent a sympathetic smile in your direction, his eyes already hazy. you nodded, grabbing the drink out of his hand and tipping it down your throat with a wince.
you danced to the music for what seemed like hours, allowing yourself to be passed between the boys as a dance partner, and letting them fuel you up with more alcohol. this was a special birthday, and they’d be damned if you didn’t have a good time. you were constantly bombarded with questions on theo’s whereabouts, and it took everything in you not to cry.
he said he’d be here.
before long, you were staged in the middle of the room, pansy’s dainty hands clapped over your eyes. you heard the soft start of a strained happy birthday song, before pansy peeled her hands away, allowing you to look at the cake that blaise held tightly in his hands.
theo still wasn’t there.
it had gotten late in the night, and students began to leave, giving small goodbyes and stumbling their way to their dorms, until it was just your friends left. “thank you for a truly wonderful birthday, guys. i don’t know what i’d do without you.” they could all see the tears forming in your eyes, sympathetic smiles bombarding your vision. “i think i just need to be alone for a moment.” you excused yourself, bounding up the stairs before the tears could fall.
you fell to your bed, broken sobs escaping your lips. you heard the shuffles of many pairs of feet, listening as they stopped outside your door. hushed whispers that weren’t so hushed. “do you think we should go in?” you heard a faint slap, and a small cry. “no, you toad! he’s spoiled her favourite day. he’ll be lucky i don’t fucking curse him.”
speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
theo walked up the stairs, bleary eyed and heavy, coming to a stop as he saw the huddle of his friends outside your dorm. “what the fuck are you playing at?” as much as mattheo wanted to shout, he kept his voice level, eyes menacing as he glared at the brunette boy. “what?” it was only then that theo took notice of everyone’s appearance. party clothes. “fuck!” he ran his hands through his hair, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“i fucking forgot. cara mia? i’m sorry. can you let me in?” blaise and mattheo stood firmly at the door, arms crossed over their chests. this wasn’t intimidating to theo, but pansy’s glare was. “you’re a fucking arsehole, theodore. the one day a year she asks for.” she threw her hands up, storming off with draco in tow.
“let me talk to her.” the boy tried to move towards the door, being pushed back by blaise’s hand on his chest. “let her calm down, mate. she’s heartbroken.” theo sighed in frustration, hand coming forward to knock on the door. “amore, please let me in. i can explain.”
you shuffled to the door, opening it a small amount. you stood there in your pyjamas, makeup smeared across your tear stained cheeks. “it’s okay, matty. let him in.” you placed a soft hand on mattheo’s shoulder, and he smiled sympathetically down at you. he huffed at theo, but nonetheless stepped aside to allow him in the room.
“we’ll stay out here in case you need us, yeah?” if you couldn’t count on your boyfriend, at least you knew you could count on his friends. you closed the door behind you and allowed theo to take in your appearance. your cheeks were covered in tears and mascara, red lipstick smudged across your lips and your hair dishevelled.
“i’m sorry, tesoro. i was with my father, and i completely forgot what today was. it’s been a rough week.” you scoffed, shoving past him to sit on your bed, facing away from him. “it’s not good enough, theo. you said you’d be here. you lied. i spent three fucking hours getting ready, and i had no one there to impress.”
theo ran his hands through his hair again, another frustrated huff leaving his chapped lips. “was it a good party?” your eyes were fixed on him, narrowed. if looks could kill, theo would be dead before he hit the ground. “no thanks to you. your friends had to keep me distracted so i couldn’t think about how my own boyfriend didn’t show up!”
“i’m sorry, piccola. my father-” you tensed up at the mention of the man. you knew how theo loathed his father. maybe even more than you loathed your own. there was a special place in azkaban reserved for him. “i need to show you something. i promise, this is not an excuse for missing your birthday. but please, i’m begging you, amore, don’t be mad.” your heart was pounding in your chest, palms becoming sweaty.
he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up, coming closer to you. he’d invaded your space, the smell of his aftershave surrounding you. you gasped as he turned his arm, watching the way the snake danced across his skin. “teddy…” tears threatened to fall again. the guilt was beginning to creep in. you knew theo wouldn’t miss your birthday for anything short of his own death, but you had been blinded by sadness.
“no, no, tesoro, don’t cry. va bene. tutto andrà bene.” you shook your head, hands grasping at his shirt. you knew mattheo had the dark mark, he was practically given it at birth, but you’d never expected theo’s father to be so evil. “you’re a deatheater, teddy. you-you’re going to have to do horrendous things.”
you knew all about the inner workings of the dark lord’s army, your father had been apart of it for years, and mattheo had been in your dorm crying into your shoulder about the things he’d witnessed. “baby, nothing will happen. we’ll be alright. i’ve got mattheo, okay? we will take care of each other.”
“how will i take care of you now?” you had begun pacing, theo’s hands coming out to grasp your waist, pulling you into his chest with a soothing hand on the back of your head. “i’m supposed to take care of you, cara mia. you are my life.”
“i’ll get one too. you cant face this alone, teddy. we said we’d be with each other through everything. this is everything.” you were mumbling into his chest but he understood every word. he stood back, hands coming up to cup your jaw, eyes poring into your own.
“no. look at me. you are not doing this.” you pushed his hands away, moving yours to grab his jaw now. “yes i am. all i have to do is ask, theo. you know my father’s itching to have me join the dark army. i said i was in this for better or for worse.” theodore knew better than to argue with you. even if you did agree to listen to him, you were cunning enough to take matters into your own hands. either way, your skin would be tainted. either by the dark lord’s hands, or his own. he was fearful. you were the light at the end of the tunnel, but you would always choose to follow him into the darkness.
“forever and always, cara mia.”
“forever and always, teddy.”
#x reader#harry potter#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott#theodore nott x y/n#angst#light angst#hurt/comfort#IM SO FUCKING SAD RIGHT NOW
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Can they match your freak? 👀 Think of a person that you're interested in, then pick the picture that you feel drawn to the most to find the corresponding message about how the sexual chemistry would be like between you guys.
Paid Readings | Botanica | Tip Jar
Pile One
The person on your mind comes across as formal, polite, but not interested in being in everyone’s face or being the center of attention. They could be considered a bit odd, maybe the timeline in which their beliefs, speech, and hobbies are not common in their age group. They could be assumed as a nerd because of how serious they take most things, like if you were to joke with them or use sarcasm, they’ll turn what’s not supposed to be literal into something pragmatic which is kind of cute in an innocent way. But they’re not rude or dismissive, because if you stick with them long enough they’ll eventually catch up with your sense of humor, even if the jokes don’t land, the fact that they’re trying makes it hilarious. They’re great at guiding people and teaching someone without looking down on others. They could come from a big family and are actually really nurturing and considerate which leaves them feeling more selective with who they choose to be their friend or romantic partner, and are content with spending a lot of time alone. They’re really “slow moving”, they don’t like to be rushed in anything, and for a good reason. They don’t like to compromise their stability, and love to have a work-life balance, even if they are an overachiever.
When it comes to doing the deed, it feels like intimacy is heightened because it feels as if you’re with a whole different person. Their sexual energy feels electric and eccentric. I feel like they’re a music junkie. They’re a lover of all genres, but pay attention mostly to the artists and bands that don’t get a lot of appreciation. I keep picking up on music theory, which could of course hint more about what they like to learn about, but I see this more as them effortlessly knowing the right note, the right rhythm, and the right scale to successfully lead their partners into an orgasm. They’re absolutely magical with their fingers, but feral with their stamina. They’re competitive when it comes to showing their partner who can go round for round, and they’re determined to make sure they’re at the top. Speaking of top, they love to be dominant in the bedroom. Their sex talks chains and whips! Just kidding, but it’s an art for them to see the many ways in how pain brings their partner pleasure. They’re down for almost anything in sex, as long as it’s consensual. Outdoor sex could be a favorite of theirs. Should you have sex with them? I feel that sex with them will be better than anything if you’ve had with anyone else, which can be addictive. Make sure that the relationship is something solid with this person, if it’s a situationship, it can be problematic, especially around issues with possessiveness, unhealthy attachments, and a lack of boundaries.
Pile Two
Sol cherubs…I’m sorry but I’m going to have to roast this person. I feel like they’re the kind to wine and dine a person. Dinner dates are nice, yes, but this person is very cheap, and likes to do the bare minimum while thinking that the other party should give them something back in return. They talk themselves up a lot, and could even get carried away with dirty talk in the bed because THEY think they’re doing something. Like this person could think that they’re a total freak, but their sex talks vanilla…They do basic positions, they’re repetitive, which is not the problem, the problem is that it’s not doing anything for the other person, and the only thing freaky about them is their gross personality. They’re self-serving, it’s not to say that you can’t experience pleasure with this person in sex, but if you expect for them to care about making sure that you finish too, don’t. They’re cheap with their wallet and in the bedroom. DO NOT have sex with this person, you won’t feel satisfied, and their energy in general is creepy and the epitome of what a loser looks like. If they’re a man, they have a toxic patriarchal mindset, weak in reality, but prowls for individuals who they think that they can control. They’re an energy vampire. Sex is an ego booster for them. It excites them more when they come across a person who’s strong in personality, or harbors a lot of potential to be a star, so that they can seduce them in order to feel better about themselves.
Sex should be an equal thing, where both parties are respected, having fun, and feeling good. You should both feel empowered rather than seeing it as taking power from another person. I’m also getting the feeling that this could be a past person for certain individuals. The message is also for you guys to know that sex isn’t supposed to be a shameful thing either if you’re still in regret about giving it to the wrong individual or even individuals. You’re not less of a person because you had sex so don’t let anyone try to punish you for it, and that includes yourself. Heal the negative beliefs you have about sex within yourself by not seeing yourself as a body count, limiting yourself to people who don’t satisfy you, and to trust in yourself to keep your stance in not doing something if you don’t want to just because someone gave you something and speaking up about what you want and how you want to be treated.
Pile Three
The person on your mind is spontaneous. You could play hard to get with them on the outside, but on the inside they’re very alluring to you, and lowkey they know this. Your chemistry in general with this person is breathtaking, if you aren’t a couple, people wonder why you aren’t one yet because of how close you guys are with each other and how obvious your attraction towards one another is. There’s heavy sexual tension here, partly because of how racy things get when you guys flirt with each other or how compatible you guys are to the point where you feel comfortable just yapping about almost anything, and the other part being the elephant in the room, which is something just feels forbidden about this relationship. Maybe this is a coworker which I understand why it wouldn’t be appropriate. You could consider this person a goofball, someone you always have fun with, or can count on to put a smile on your face, but the friendship between you guys is strong. Y’all get each other emotionally and are generally supportive, I would be shocked if you guys weren’t best friends. I’m not even picking up their individual sexual energy, my intuition just keeps pointing to how it would be if you guys were to ever have an encounter. I just keep getting “yes, yes!, YES!” go for it with this person, because it doesn’t feel at all like something you would regret. Ya’ll complete each other in so many ways that it just feels right. The sexual chemistry would be stable, you wouldn’t get bored of each other because it brings you guys closer rather than apart. This won’t be for everyone, but some people in the pile might have a theme of knowing right then and there that this is the person that they would want to spend the rest of their life with. Be wary though if you aren’t in the position of wanting to have kids or having enough to support a child, because you guys are going to be on each other like rabbits.
#divination#intuitive#psychic#pick a card#tarot#spirituality#tarotblr#pick a pile#pac#the tarot community#tarot readers of tumblr#tarot community#Spotify
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Note: This is merely a pitch introduction post. My main project remains Such Happy Campers. I have no title in mind for this IF (suggestions are welcome), although I am very passionate about the idea and will work on it on the side while I write SHC.
You are... or were one of the most famous yet mysterious characters in the 21st century pop-rock scene.
It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. Your friends agreed… and that is how your band came to be. After years of practice in your friend’s mother’s garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.
It's a meteoric rise— until it isn’t.
And now, a decade after your band has withdrawn from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be.
Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)
Play as a pop-rock vocalist
Name your band and customize your music, lyrics and image
Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears
Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/stalker
Give one hell of an interview
Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac
TW: themes of mental illness, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation and self-harm, unhealthy relationship dynamics
ROs:
Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”
She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…
Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”
Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget.
Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”
Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past.
Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them. When they first walked out onto that stage, it felt like my heart was going to explode.”
Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.
Others:
Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they tried to make me disappear with their fog machine.”
After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.
Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”
Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean.
Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”
The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.
[dividers by @thecutestgrotto]
Please consider reblogging if you like my work!
#interactive fiction#choicescript wip#choicescript game#romanceable characters#if: wip#original fiction#daisy jones and the six#music inspired#upcoming if
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7 Minutes in Heaven {obx - jm}
Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem Pogue!Reader (kinda some John B x reader if you squint)
Summary: pogue!reader gets selected for a game of 7 Minutes in Heaven with JJ—this should be no big deal, right?
Warnings: drinking, smoking, swearing, suggestive flirting, idk? Mild angst. Mostly fluff
Word count: 2,671
A/N: hiii this is my first time ever posting my own lil fanfic to tumblr. I’m sorry if there are any errors:(( I usually write original fiction but this was in my head and I couldn’t get it out. I hope someone gets some enjoyment from it <3 there is a John B alt ending written but idk if I’ll post. Let me know what you beauties thinnnnk:)
When a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ didn’t sound juicy enough to the sexed up tourons, a blue-shirt wearing frat bro suggested everyone partake in a game of 7 Minutes In Heaven. The pogues were never one to back down from a challenge—least of all you, who’d kissed all of your friends at some point or another.
You took a sip of beer from the paper cup in your hand, but not even drowning yourself in drinks could save you as John B and a touron girl exited the closet, heralding your turn next. He wore a lazy, drunken smile, dancing to the beachy music thumping from a nearby amp.
“Tourons pick the lamest party games.” You hid your bundle of stress underneath a coy joke. “We could be playing flip cup instead.”
“You were laughing when it was Sarah and me.” Kie filed into the room next with a fresh beer in hand, brushing your cheek with the other hand as she passed. “Not so smug now, babes, huh?”
She plopped down on the arm of the chair Pope sat on with his feet kicked up, rolling a backwood.
“Of course it’s funny when it’s not me. That’s how it works,” you said.
John B’s laugh rang out as he orbited around your back, to your side, appearing in your peripheral. You turned slightly, cup pressed against your bottom lip.
“How about you finish off that liquid courage,” John B used his index finger to tip the bottom of the cup up to goad you into chugging. You tried not to laugh into the drink as you complied, drinking the remainder of its contents. “Atta girl. Now lighten up, buzz kill, ‘cause it’s your turn.”
You tossed the now-empty cup at his head with a laugh, watching as he swatted it away. “Like you need an excuse to makeout with someone in a closet.”
“Seven minutes of swapping bacteria.” Pope chimed in from his spot on the recliner as he sparked the lighter. “In the best way possible.”
Kie crossed her arms. “You don’t have to kiss anyone.”
JJ burst around the corner into the room, beer spilling from the bottle in his hand as he caught the last half of the conversation. “Hey, don’t say that! We all have to follow the rules.”
“What rules, JJ?” You rolled your eyes. “The ones you pull out of your ass?”
“Yeah, I can jot them down for you.” He feigned looking around the room, touching his chest for imaginary pencil pockets as the bottle sloshed in his hand. “Anyone got a pen? Maybe a marker? Crayon, perhaps?”
“Alright, alright, I get it!” You conceded with another laugh. “Pour me up a shot and let me make someone’s day!”
Kie hopped off the couch with a grin and began lining up shot glasses on the counter. JJ’s hand cradled the small of your back while John B approached your other side, watching as JJ poured a messy line of contents from the tap across all of the shot glasses.
Every pogue picked one up, preparing to throw them back, when John B took the one from your hand and raised a mischievous brow. “Open up, little loverrr.”
You gave a wide grin before obeying the command, opening up your mouth and sticking out your tongue to prepare for the waterfall of liquor.
John B tossed back his own shot in one fluid motion before pouring the second shot into your mouth. Once the contents were fully polished off you squeezed your eyes shut as an involuntary shiver ran through you, the warmth working its way down your throat and through your chest.
“You missed some.” John B grabbed your cheeks and yanked you closer, playfully slurping the backsplash from the skin around the corner of your mouth and cheek.
“HEYYY NOW!” JJ gave an energetic clap of his hands before pointing at you and John B. “Save it for the closet!”
You shoved John B away from you with laughter almost as if he were an over-zealous puppy before leaning over to smack JJ’s arm. “Oh please, I know you have your fingers crossed hoping it’s me and you.”
You didn’t interpret the playful action as John B making a move on you despite JJ’s joke. You were all particularly affectionate with each other—and for as affectionate as you were, you also gave each other just as much shit.
“Alright, it’s TIME!” said Kie, grabbing you by the shoulders and steering you in Pope’s direction. “Pull the name.”
Pope remained on the couch, but now had a ball cap flipped upside down in his hand with jumbled up scraps of paper inside. He grumbled. “I don’t know how I ended up relegated to this role.”
“Because you’re the most trustworthy,” said Kie. “And the least likely to fuck it up.”
“Can’t argue there.” Pope pulled a piece of paper from the cap. “You will be joined by…” he unfurled the paper. “JJ!”
As JJ looked over at you with that arrogant flirty ease, you couldn’t place why you suddenly felt a spike of nerves. Your feet almost felt as if they had forgotten how to work, with Sarah swooping in to usher you toward the closet, JJ not far behind.
Seven minutes in a closet should be nothing compared to all the drunken nights you’d cuddled up on the chateau’s pullout couch together. The party was in full swing, the perfect time to cut loose, and still, you couldn’t fight the soft apprehension prickling at your palms.
The closet in question was unlike anything you’d grown up with, but that was to be expected anytime you partied at a kook house. It was more akin to a closet like Sarah’s, though it wasn’t overflowing with near as much color or fun crop tops as hers.
You looked around at the designer labels and scrunched your nose. “God, why do kooks need such big closets?”
“Yeah, I’m not digging all the space between us.” Without warning, JJ slipped an index finger into the belt loop of your jeans and pulled you closer until you were only inches apart. “Much better, thanks for the cooperation, princess.”
“You’re getting way too much enjoyment out of this, it’s worrying.”
“Afraid I’ll bite?” He clacked his teeth in your face playfully, smirking when he couldn’t make you flinch.
“Biting doesn’t scare me.” You couldn’t help yourself as you pressed in closer to his face, daring him to retaliate. “You’ll have to try harder, Jay.”
He dropped his hold on the belt loop and pressed his hands into you stomach, shoving you against the wall until you back was flush with the surface, caught between the cold of the wall and the warmth of his body.
“How about now, cupcake? Scared?” He paused and lifted a brow, smirk sweeping up his mouth. He leaned closer. “That toe-curling thing you’re feeling is called sexual tension, my friend.”
Said tension between you was palpable, even after he slacked to give you the space back, satisfied with the effect he’d visibly had on you. Words died in your throat. For the first time ever, you were speechless. JJ, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease, content to chatter away.
“We had our first kiss in a closet just like this one.” JJ looked delighted by the memory. "You remember?”
”Don’t call it ‘our first kiss’ like we were ever a thing.” Your composure faltered, but it was a fond memory nonetheless. “Shame on me for choosing ‘dare’ over ‘truth’—I thought I’d get to do something cool like scale a flag pole, but no. Got stuck sucking face with you.”
"Okay, ouch,” he feigned offense, clutching his chest. “I've gotten a lot better at kissing since then.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the heat that was creeping up your neck. "Well, we were like thirteen, so I’d really hope so."
JJ leaned in a little closer again. "I've been thinking about that kiss a lot lately, you know.”
Your walls went up, afraid of being vulnerable. He’d played with your feelings one too many times over the years out of boredom. You used to think when he was flirting he meant it, and that had led to too much confusion. Rather than pine over him forever, you’d grown comfortable with your role of best friend.
Anything more—girlfriend, fuck buddy, situationship—would spell nothing but trouble.
You deflected by teasing him. “You’ve been thinking about a bad kiss from middle school? Find better hobbies.”
“That’s the thing—I need to redeem myself,” he said. “You never wonder what it would be like to try it again now that we’re older? More… seasoned?”
“Don’t be dumb.” Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried not to let it show. "This is just a fun party game, not an opportunity for you to get lucky.”
“What does that cute little tattoo on your ass say again?” He snapped his fingers and feigned as if recalling. “Lucky you.”
You made a sputtering noise, floored by the comeback. You’d been in a bikini around the pogues enough times that they’d likely all seen the edge of said tattoo, but he would have had to pay attention to read it.
“God, you are such a shameless flirt!” You picked up a sandal from the closet floor and began smacking him with it. “What is with you tonight? You’re gonna start humping the keg stand before the party is over—“
“I wouldn’t be the man you know and love unless I flirted without remorse.” JJ flinched away from the sandal, laughing at your reaction. "Come on, you have to admit there's chemistry between us."
You felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body at his words. He was right, but you didn't know what to do about it—so again, you deflected. “You have chemistry with anything that has tits and legs.”
“Nah, it’s different with us,” he insisted. “And I’ll prove it.”
Before you could respond, JJ took a daring step forward, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips met yours in a searing kiss. It was gentle initially, testing the waters to see what you were okay with. As the kiss lingered, JJ took it as a sign to deepen things, the pace growing hungrier between you.
Your initial surprise gave way to something more passionate and explorative. Warmth pooled in your thighs as he tangled him hands in your hair, tongue making sensuous circles with your own. It was a moment suspended in time as your friendship burned away, scorching the earth until it became something uncharted. He awoke dormant feelings in you—emotions for him that you thought you’d long buried came rising to the surface at full force like a geyser.
“Seven minutes is up!” John B’s voice rang out.
You barely had time to fall apart from each other as the door pried open. A gasp tore through your mouth, accompanied by a jolt of surprise. For a brief moment it had only been you and JJ - the party on the other side of the door had completely disappeared to you.
John B leaned against the doorframe, gazing down at the wild blush staining your cheeks. Something like understanding registered in his gaze at the look on your face, but he quickly recovered the cool-guy charm.
“Either you crazy kids come out, or I’m gonna get serious FOMO and have to join.”
“Squeeze in, man, you’ll love it.” JJ leaned his head against your shoulder and smiled, looking completely unaffected by what had happened. “Plenty of room. Too much, honestly.”
You rolled your eyes, not understanding how he could be so jovial and collected as your heart threatened to pump out of your chest.
“No threesomes in this living room, alright, this ain’t a Hugh Hefner party.” said Pope. “Come smoke this blunt and stop being weird.”
As you exited the confines of the closet, which had felt like it’s own world, you couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if you had been in the closet for even a minute longer. Would hands have roamed further? Would JJ have had time to confess he was just fucking around with you, only he took it a bit farther than usual? You didn’t even know what you’d want him to say.
There wasn’t enough time to process what was happening or the repercussions of it—only that in the moment it had felt really, really good being with JJ. Whatever the absolute fuck that was about.
The unspoken tension had found its voice in that kiss, marking the beginning of the end. You didn’t know how you could look him in the eyes again after feeling his hands knotting through your hair. How could a moment change everything?
You avoided JJ for the next several hours, wrapping your mind around what had happened. If the other pogues noticed, they didn’t call you out on it. Not openly, anyway. Kie and John B were not subtle as they gossiped in hushed whispers, glancing between you and JJ at your two different places across the party.
Eventually, the drinks caught up to you. Coping with your alien feelings by attempting to numb them with alcohol hadn’t worked, of course, so now not only were you mentally spiraling but had also come down with a bad case of the spins.
To anchor yourself back to the moment, you slipped away from the party, which was just now starting to teeter off from its full swing, and exited out of the back door of the mansion onto a vacant area of porch.
Salty sea and crisp nighttime air instantly offered reprieve to your racing mind as you walked over to the wooden railing of the porch and leaned against it, reveling in the quiet.
A few minutes later, your quiet was disturbed by the sound of the sliding glass door opening up behind you. You turned to look at who’d followed, heart nearly leaping from your chest at the sight of JJ.
“Hey, you okay out here?” He stuck his head out of the door, quiet concern on his face. You nodded without verbal response. “Is it cool if we talk for a minute?”
You nodded again, feeling a nervous knot forming in your stomach. You didn’t want to imagine what he would say next. Still, you were both here now, and there was no use in prolonging the inevitable. “What's up?”
He closed the door behind himself. Here it comes, you thought. He’s going to confess that he was just teasing you—it meant nothing to him. All one big, meaningless flirt brought on by his name being pulled from a random lottery. If it’d been John B’s name called over JJ’s, JJ may have never looked at you twice otherwise. Not any differently than usual, anyway. Why did that possibility hurt so much?
“About the game…” He approached your side at the porch railing, looking less sure of himself than normal. “I know you’ve been avoiding me.”
Your reply was short. “Astute observation.”
“Don’t do that—don’t shut down.” His eyes cut right through you. “Look, I - I have something to admit.”
You steeled yourself for him to say something that would break you, but you wouldn’t show it. “Don’t leave me in suspense, Jay.”
“I’m sorry if I crossed a line by kissing you before…” There was a pause too long in the air as he contemplated whether or not to say the next words. “I bribed Pope to make sure he called my name for your turn.”
“You… what?”
“Don’t be mad.” He squeezed his eyes shut as if an admission of guilt physically pained him. After all, his motto had always been ‘deny, deny, deny.’ “It may or may not have been John B’s name on the paper that Pope actually pulled, but I’d slid him a $20 beforehand to make sure no one else got you.”
The uneasiness in your stomach slowly transformed into butterflies, tickling all the way up your throat until it evolved into belly-aching laughter. He wasn’t toying with you because he was bored or because it was convenient. He orchestrated this.
The laughter confused him. “Is that – wait – why are you laughing?”
“Shut the fuck up and kiss me again.”
His features brightened, eyes glowing with a new, consuming adoration. He swept you in closer and brought his mouth down to yours, talking against your lips. “God, I’m so glad you said that. Playing it cool has never been my style.”
#jj x reader#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank#john b routledge#john b x reader x jj#obx fanfiction#obx reader#obx#obx fic#pogue x reader#fluff#light angst#angst with a happy ending#outer banks#seven minutes in heaven#outerbanks#fanfic#mine
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The High Lords: Rhysand x Tamlin!sister!reader
Warnings: 18+, Smut, Fighting, Light mentions of violence
Part 2
***
You knew this was wrong.
You knew what your brother would do.
You knew you shouldn’t be enjoying this.
You knew to stay far, far away from the High Lord of the Night Court.
But you did not care as his hands slid up your skin and his lips pressed to yours.
***
Life at the Spring Court was simple. You spent most of your days in the gardens around your estate, often hiding from your slightly overprotective brother. As much as you love him, he tends to react to anything that happens to you a tad aggressively. You understood his fear comes from losing the rest of your family and that he was naturally going to be careful with you. You just wished he would relax a little more and trust you to take care of yourself.
The biggest issue recently has been that of any potential suitors. He realizes you need more to life than strolling the gardens, and had graciously arranged for you to meet all eligible bachelors. Chosen by him, of course.
Not that you even wanted that.
Sure, you had noticed a select few males on the rare nights you went to the village. You felt the desire for touch and for love like anyone else. Unfortunately, your romantic heart craved the mate connection. You knew it was rare and the chances of you having one were low, though that didn’t stop you from dreaming about who he could be.
Once Tamlin got the idea that you should be married in his head, he would not let go of it. Countless arguments had passed between the two of you, with no progress made in your favor. Your last one was particularly nasty, ending with you yelling that you might as well marry Lucien if all Tamlin cared about was marrying you off.
You hadn’t spoken since.
Of course, marrying Lucien wouldn’t be so bad. You would be lying if you said you didn’t notice how handsome he was, and how kind he was to you. He wasn’t your mate though. You suppose if it came down to it you could definitely do worse. And oh, how it would anger Tamlin. His emissary, his best friend, your husband. Often Lucien would flirt with you in front of Tamlin, just to see him get upset. Though as much as you delighted in that game, your heart will always long for more.
***
Calanmai. The biggest night of the year in the spring court. You look forward to it every year, to the dancing and the music and the wine. You carefully selected your dress months ago, and have been preparing everyday leading up to it. You felt like this year was extra special, something big was going to happen.
Until Tamlin tells you he doesn’t want you to go.
The anger that rose in you was unlike anything you had ever felt. “You can NOT keep me from going. You may be my brother but you will not control what I do!” You shouted at him, your whole body shaking. Tamlin shuffled the papers he was reading and spoke without looking at you, “It is my job to keep you safe. Calanmai is not safe for you. Dangerous faries come, and you know what they tried to do last year.” You let out a groan of frustration. Last year a group of males had tried to take you away into the darkness of the wood. Lucien was there immediately to get them away, barely allowing them to leave within an inch of their lives. You can’t say that event didn’t unnerve you, but you would be wiser this year. He couldn’t hide you away forever.
“Lucien and I have a plan this year! He will stay with me the whole time. It will be fine!” You shot back, not willing to take no as an answer. Tamlin slammed his papers down and looked up at you. “No. Lucien doesn’t need to babysit you all night. He deserves a day off as well.” Your mouth dropped open at that. “Babysit?! Babysit! If you would just let me train, I could keep myself safe and no one would have to worry! You are going to be the cause of my death if you don’t sto-“ your words were cut off by your brothers yell of “Enough!”. He stood and walked over to you, grabbing your arms. “You. Will. Not. Go. Do you understand me? I am your High Lord, you will obey me. You have no idea what could happen out there.” His hands tightened on you when you started to pull away. “Fuck you, Tamlin. Fuck you.” You spat as you tore out of his grasp and ran from his study.
You felt the tears, hot and angry, spilling down your cheeks. You ran out of the manor into the dark night without having any plan of where you were going. You wanted to run away, to leave your brother and start over. Too caught up in your own mind, you didn’t notice the shape rapidly approaching you until you crashed straight into a hard chest. Arms quickly wrapped around your waist and you looked up into Lucien’s familiar face. You watched as he took in your tears and his eyes flashed with rage. “He told you you couldn’t go, didn’t he?” he spoke, hardly above a whisper. You could only nod as you folded into him, letting your sobs out. He ran a soothing hand across your back, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry. I tried to argue with him, but you know how it is.” He pulled away to look down at you. “Do not give up, my sweet flower. All hope is not lost. Why do you think I was out here so late?” He asked with a twinkle in his eye.
You allowed Lucien to lead you back home, drying your tears. He walked you to your room to ensure you avoided Tamlin, telling you to wait for him tomorrow. He would give you his plan then.
***
The next day you carefully got ready, not wanting Tamlin to notice what you were doing. The last thing you needed was him discovering your plan to sneak off to Calanmai. Lucien had returned early this morning to tell you what he had planned. He knew Tamlin would lose focus and would forget to even care if you came or not. Lucien was going to head down with Tamlin as normal, and once he was able to slip away he would come back for you. You would sneak out one of the back entrances, avoiding any guards Tamlin may have left. Once you were at the celebration, no one would be sound enough to realize you weren’t supposed to be there.
You pulled your dress out as excitement curled up your spine. The light, flowing green fabric covered you right where you needed it to, the fabric turning sheer as it floated around you. You gazed at yourself appreciatively in the mirror, knowing this look was your best. When Lucien finally came to collect you, he hesitated for a second as he looked you over. “You look…beyond beautiful.” He finally said, holding his arm out for you. You gladly took it and you two were off.
It was extremely easy to escape the manor without being caught, as any guard left had abandoned their post for the celebration. You smiled at the lucky fact, pace increasing the closer you got to the fires. You grabbed Lucien’s hand and took off running, laughing as you raced down the hills. Once you were there, you expertly slipped through the crowd until you could grab a glass of fairie wine. You moaned as the delicious taste went down your throat, thankful you were able to make it. You pulled Lucien in for a hug and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” you whispered as you let go. He only nodded before stepping a short distance away, hoping that if Tamlin saw him he wouldn’t see you.
You mingled into the crowd, dancing with anyone you found. You had several more glasses of wine until you felt like you were floating across the ground. Soon, it was time for Tamlin to choose who he would bed that night. You can’t say you enjoyed this part, and you typically took this opportunity to slip off into the trees for a while. You grabbed another glass of wine and went off, not too far to be in danger but far enough you didn’t have to hear your brother with his female of the night.
You leaned against a tree as the cool night air swirled around you. The dancing and drinking had made you quite warm, and the breeze was a welcome feeling. You stood there quietly for a few minutes, connecting with the nature around you.
Until you felt it.
Something in your chest pulled as darkness began to swirl around you. You shot up from your tree, eyes wide as you looked around. You were about to yell for Lucien when you heard someone say, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” You turned to find the most devilishly handsome male you had ever seen.
“Oh,” was all you said as you took in the familiar face in front of you. He smirked down at you, laughter in his voice, “Do you not remember me, darling?” He stepped closer, boxing you into the tree. His head lowered to yours, violet eyes staring holes into you. “Tamlins sweet younger sister, out here in these woods all alone. Tut tut. Doesn’t he know how dangerous it can be out here?” His words rushed over you, heat rising through your body. You should feel scared, you should be fighting, you should be running and screaming. Yet you don’t want to.
“Rhysand.” You finally say, noting the High Lord of the Night Court is who is in front of you. “Tamlin will not be pleased that you are here.” He pulled his head back and let out a laugh as he moved away from you. “He never is.” He says, eyes bright. You can’t help the smile that comes as you tease, “It’s been quite some time, Rhysand. Have you been hiding from me?” Something flashes through his eyes at your words and before you can breathe he has his body pressed to yours again. “Oh, my darling. Did you miss me?” He murmurs as his lips trace your cheeks. You feel that heat rise through you again, your hands fisting his top. “Why are you back now?” you asked, looking up at him. His eyes show something you can’t read before he says, “I felt like paying my dear old friend a visit. It helps that he has such a delicious sister for me to see as well.” His hands tighten around you as your cheeks flush red.
You had always enjoyed Rhysand when he came. Usually he came to argue with Tamlin about something, but he always stopped and spoke with you. You two had developed a secret friendship over the years, one even Lucien didn’t know about. You and Rhysand had much more in common than you thought. After every visit, Tamlin would find you to rant about how terrible he was and to always stay away from him. You knew there was more history between them than what you were told. Unfortunately, no one would tell you what it was. So you quietly spoke with Rhysand, enjoying when you saw him. It had been quite some time since he had graced the Spring Court. You were curious as to why he came now. It certainly wasn’t to meet with your brother, not tonight. Why else would he be here?
“Why now? I’ve called for you many times, Rhys. I began to think you abandoned me.” You spoke the words lightly, but the hurt shown in your eyes. He ducked his head almost in shame, eyes blazing as he looked at you. “I did not mean to, darling. It is not so easy for me to show up here without good reason. Things have been rather peaceful in recent years, and I couldn’t figure a way to sneak here without creating problems. I never abandoned you though. I have always kept watch.” There’s a smile hinting at his lips as your mind races to figure out what he meant. You gasp and shove him away from you. “You! You dirty pig! You’ve been able to spy on me with that?!” You try not to yell, hand going to the small eye on your hip. You and Rhys had made a deal long ago, early in your friendship, to always trust the other. You had been desperate for a friend then, and you knew it was a bad idea to get mixed up with him.
Rhys chuckled, hands up in surrender. “Not always! Just when I can feel that you are extra upset. It’s how I know he wasn’t going to let you come tonight. I felt the fight you had, and your anguish. I had to make sure you were okay.” You felt your heart grow soft at his words. You held your arms out, beckoning him to come back to you. He gladly wrapped himself back around you, holding you tight. “I missed you Rhys.” You whispered into his chest, squeezing him tighter. “And I missed you, darling girl.” You rose your head to look at him, enjoying the way the moonlight washed over his face. You knew he was handsome, but tonight he was even more so. His hands lightly traced up your back and a shiver went through your body. You noticed the way his eyes darkened, the way the air around you changed.
“I know he’s trying to marry you off.” Rhys spoke suddenly, the coldness in his words shocking you. You nodded once, saying “I told him I might as well marry Lucien. That I don’t want anyone he has chosen for me.” He laughed at that, “I assume he did not take that one well.” You shook your head, a smile on your lips. “No. He sent Lucien away on border patrol for a week, seemingly scared I would jump his bones and force Tamlin to marry us.” You laughed as you spoke, but Rhysands fingers dug into your skin at your words. “And would you have?” He asked, face serious. You let out a coy smile before answering, “Maybe.”
In a split second you were pressed back against the tree you were leaning on earlier, with his hands on either side of your head. You looked up at him with surprise as you noted the anger on his face. “Rhys?” You asked cautiously, a hand rising to cup his face. He turned into your touch, kissing your palm. “I know I shouldn’t be angry.” He whispers into your skin. His words send a flash of lightning through you. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you. All you knew was you wanted him.
No, you needed him.
Without thinking you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. You instantly regretted what you had done as embarrassment flowed through you, moving to pull away. His hand came up behind your head and pushed you right back to him. His kiss was hard, needy. You fell back against the tee and moaned into this touch, hearing him curse against your mouth. His lips disappeared from yours and began traveling down your neck. He bit an especially sensitive spot and you gasped out his name. One hand pinned your waist to the tree behind you as the other ran down your leg. He began bunching your skirts up, desperate to feel your skin. His hand ran up your thigh, gripping tightly once he reached the top. You pulled his mouth back to yours, pressing your body into his. He ground his hips down onto yours, your body arched into his. A deep moan fell from you at that action, need coursing through your veins. You let out a soft whine when Rhys pulled away from you, leaving you suddenly cold.
“If we don’t stop now, I don’t think I will be able to.” He said, hands running through his hair. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts, all centering around Rhys and the way you needed him to fuck you right now. You took a step closer, placing a hand on his chest. “I don’t want you to stop,” you said, pulling him back down to you. The kiss was different this time, more intense, more hurried. He pulled your skirts up again without hesitation, his fingers finding you immediately. You fell back onto your tree once more, submitting to Rhysands touch. You made a noise of disapproval as he pulled his lips from yours again, before he dropped to his knees in front of you. He looked up at you wickedly, waiting for your permission to continue. You weren’t even done nodding before he tore your underwear and attached his lips to you. You nearly screamed at the sensation, head falling back in bliss. Rhys grabbed one leg and threw it over his shoulder, his hand gripping the opposite thigh hard enough to bruise. You let your hands thread through his hair, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as he worked you. “Go on, sweet thing. Let go for me.” He spoke against you, sliding a finger into you as well. You screamed loud enough for anyone to hear as your orgasm washed over you, more powerful than any you had ever felt. Rhys devoured you through it, prolonging the feeling until you were shaking from overstimulation. He carefully set your leg down and rose to look at you. The desire on his face, with his lips wet from you, was enough to have you ready for him again. You pulled him down to kiss you again, his hands traveling up your skin.
“I need you Rhys. Please,” you begged against his mouth, moving your hand to undo the ties on his pants. He groaned into your mouth as you pulled him out, pumping him in your hand. Your confidence faltered for a moment at the size of him, unsure if he would even fit. You had taken males before, unknown to your brother, but none had been like this. Rhys noticed your hesitation, pulling away to look at you. “We don’t have to continue if you don’t want to, sweet darling.” He spoke, brushing your hair out of your face. You responded by pumping him in your hand again, relishing in the way his eyes rolled back in pleasure. He pushed you back, sliding himself through your wet folds. You whimpered at the feeling, ready to feel him inside you. You felt his tip nudge at you before he pushed the first inch in. You arched into him as the pleasure washed over you. “More Rhys, more,” you moaned out, pulling him closer. Every inch of him brought you more and more pleasure, until you were certain you could finish just like this. Once he bottomed out in you he gasped out your name, bringing your lips to his once more.
He began to thrust softly into you, your nails digging into his back. He sped up, pushing harder and harder until you screamed his name against his mouth. He pulled his lips from yours, sucking a path down you neck. Your leg rose to hook over his hip, needing to feel him as deep as possible. One of his hands slid down you again, circling you with his fingers. You pushed harder into his touch, seconds away from finishing again. “I want to finish with you Rhys,” you mumbled out, gripping his back tighter. He let out a growl at your words and nipped your neck, thrusting unforgivingly into you. “Come with me,” he whispered into your ear, biting down on your earlobe. You let out a shout as the pleasure ripped through you, barely noticing the tatters of his shirt as you tore through it. Rhys came with a loud growl, burying himself into you.
It was then that you felt it. That snap. That feeling you had been longing for your whole life. Your eyes widened as you realized what just happened, looking to Rhys to see if he felt it too. He looked at you, questioning the look in your eyes. He slowly pulled out, helping you fix your dress and fixing himself. You began to feel an ache in your chest, realizing he didn’t feel the snap with you.
Until he took your hands in his and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “It snapped for me long ago,” he whispered, voice raw. Your eyes widened even more, processing this new information. Rhys was your mate. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. Rhysand, your brothers enemy. Rhysand, Rhysand, Rhysand.
Tamlin was going to kill you both.
***
I’m very tempted to write a part 2 to this!! Please let me know if that is something you would enjoy. My inbox is open for any requests or comments <3
#acotar#acotar x reader#rhysand x reader#rhys x reader#lucien x reader#rhysand#lucien vanserra#tamlin#rhysand smut#the high lords
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Decadent Desires Ch 7
Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, smut.
Emily had called rather late; you hadn’t been expecting it but welcomed the phone call anyway. She thought the team was still going to be out on a case over the weekend but it turned out she’d be back in D.C for just enough time to meet up before having to take off for a conference in New York. She’d told you to meet her at The Salamander in the lounge, where she currently was sat at the bar nursing a Paloma. She felt a hand slid across her upper back and was happy when she glanced up to see you, a small smile gracing her cheeks.
“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting.” You greeted, slipping onto the stool beside her.
“Oh don’t worry about it.” She waved you off, “it was sheer luck you were even still awake at this hour.”
You laughed softly, thanking the bartender for your drink before you took a sip and turned back to her, “it’s not that late. Last I checked I didn’t have a curfew.”
“I only hope I didn’t drag you out of bed and all the way downtown.”
“Even if I was, it won’t be for nothing.” There was a sparkle in your eye as you glanced at her that made her body tingle, “besides, you actually pulled me out of a hyper focus worm hole of work. I should be thanking you.”
“Work?” She grimaced, “on a Saturday?”
“Yeah.” You let out a sigh, “there’s a rally coming up on Tuesday we need to be cracking down for, Heather’s got a couple of bills she wants to push through to congress and we’ve got a big thing down in Iowa coming up. I’ve been up to my eyeballs in research and proposals.”
“You did at least pause for dinner, right?”
“Course.” You laughed softly, “nothing a pizza delivery can’t fix.”
“Good.” She took a larger sip of her drink this time, “because unfortunately I don’t think I have time for food.”
“Just a drink is more than acceptable.” You took a sip of yours, “not to mention I think I’m more interested in what comes after the drink.”
“You and me both.” She laughed back.
“We can take these upstairs, yes?” You tapped your glass and the bartender nodded, “perfect. Thank you.” You dropped a twenty down on the bar top and slid off your stool, your free hand wrapping around Emily’s wrist, “lead the way.”
The suite was gorgeous, French doors leading out to the balcony with a stunning view of the Potomac River. Emily stepped out of her shoes and you followed suit, your purse finding a home on one of the small tables as you continued to sip on your drink.
“It’s nice.” You commented, glancing around as Emily moved further into the room, flicking the television on to a soft jazz music channel.
“Ehh… I think I like the Waldorf better.”
“The food selection was excellent.” You replied, stalling as marble flooring caught your eye and you detoured into the bathroom, “have you seen this shower?!”
“No.” She called back, wandering towards your voice, “I only came up to drop my bag off.”
“Talk about stunning.” You glanced over your shoulder to her with a wicked grin and she felt that familiar heat start to pulse within her.
“You’re not wrong there.” Her hands found your hips, squeezing softly as her lips brushed against the bare skin of your neck, “you have an idea?”
“I have plenty of ideas.” You replied, your eyes sweeping through the room before placing your drink down on the basin.
The shower was huge, floor to ceiling glass walls encasing it, a waterfall head built into the ceiling and a large bench built against one of the smaller glass walls. You started to realize that you definitely didn’t need the bed at this point in the evening, Emily’s hands sneaking under the hem of your shirt, nails tickling across your skin.
“I do always like a nice steamy shower after a long plane ride.” She murmured, her lips continuing to dance along the column of your neck.
“You were in Richmond.” You laughed, “that’s a fifty five minute flight. And you’ve got the bonus of your own jet, flying commercial is the nightmare.”
“Yeah?” She nipped at your neck this time, “and when was the last time you flew commercial?”
“Fair point.” Chuckling, you turned in her arms, letting her remove your shirt before she captured your lips in a kiss.
Emily cautiously backed you toward the shower, blindly reaching in to turn on the water while her lips continued to dance against yours. The two of you took the time while the water reached the perfect temperature to adjust the light in the room to a warm glow, the pile of discarded clothing on the floor growing until you were both naked and Emily was tugging her hair up before dragging you into the shower.
Water streamed over both of you, warming your cooled skin as Emily’s hand’s ghosted up your sides, cupping under your tits before her thumbs brushed over your nipples, flicking gently at them before she groped at your chest. Her tongue sunk into your mouth, rolling with ease against your own as one of your arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to you as your back hit the wall of the shower. You couldn’t help but let out a little moan into the kiss, your back arching into her touch and she chuckled, nipping at your lip when she broke the kiss. Her lips traced across your jaw before she found your neck again, pressing messy kisses into it as she continued to toy with your chest, listening to the way your breathing was picking up and your pants were beginning to come out as whines. She made a home in the crook of your neck, sucking at your supple skin and it was your turn to pinch at her nipples. She groaned into your skin, teeth sinking in a little bit harder this time in retaliation as her skin began to prickle in the best way.
Your hand cupped her chin, redirecting her lips to yours as your hands sunk down her body and she was quick to follow your lead, her hands mimicking your movements on your own body. Your fingers began to slowly rub her clit, randomizing a pattern of when you’d press harder until she let out a gasp, her body jumping toward you and your lips curved up into a grin. Emily’s hips rocked toward your touch, her pussy pulsing as it ached for more and she figured the fastest way to get it was to not hold back or tease you too long. Her hand easily found its way between your legs, the heel of it pressing on your clit as her fingers slid back and forth through your folds. You let out a breathy sigh at the sensation, your eyes fluttering shut as you copied the movement, your fingertips barely dipping into her dripping pussy, coaxing out her juices. All you needed was another small groan escaping Emily’s lips and you sunk two fingers into her, her pussy fluttering around you while her forehead dropped to your shoulder.
You started lazily pumping your fingers, matching the pace that she was rocking her hips down toward your touch, her fingers quickly sinking into your cunt and you moaned, your head dropping back against the wall. You began to match each other’s rhythms, fucking the other with ease, fingers beginning to curl on random thrusts. Pleasure began to build within you, your cunt tight around Emily’s fingers while her lips brushed over your shoulder, her breath hot on your skin as she started to pant. Her free hand pinched at your chin, pulling you back into a breathless kiss as her fingers sped up. You whined against her lips, your free hand groping at her ass as the two of you continued to rock in tandem to chase your peaks. Emily’s fingers curled again and you broke the kiss with a gasp.
“Oh god.. right there.”
“Mmm…” She replied with a smirk, thought it was one that quickly vanished as her lips parted, letting out a moan when the heel of your hand pressed against her clit, jolting her body toward you. “Fuck!”
She could already feel herself clenching down around your fingers, each thrust of your hand pressing harder against her clit as you picked up the pace. Her body was burning and it certainly wasn’t from the water, her thighs slick with her juices. She began to falter in her movements, unable to keep up the rigorous pace of fucking you but in return you were able to focus, fingers fucking faster into her wet cunt. Twisting and curling with each push, your free hand coming up to toy with her chest, pinching at her nipples, your mouth latching onto her neck, sucking and kissing at her tender skin.
“Don’t stop.” She moaned, her thighs starting to quiver, threatening to slam shut around your wrist as your fingers continued to disappear into her. Her head fell back, lips parted as her chest heaved and she leant against the wall for support, unable to focus on anything but the pleasure shaking though her. Her hand slipped from between your legs and came to land between her own, quickly rubbing at her clit while you continued to fuck her, pinning her to the wall. It only took a moment before she was letting out a loud swear, her body trembling while her orgasm shot through her. “Oh fuck!”
You slowly slipped your fingers out of her pussy, a cocky grin on your lips as you thought you’d wiped her out, only for her to take a single breath before pouncing on you. Emily’s lips were back on yours and you were pinned to the wall with her fingers deep in your cunt before you could even blink. Her hands moved with skill, picking up right where they left off and you were putty in a matter of seconds, your words reduced to whimpers and moans while your pussy fluttered around her. Fingers curling right where you wanted them, your thighs shook, body grinding down onto her hand.
“Please…” you whined, “oh god please.”
“Come for me princess.” She husked into your ear, nipping at the lobe and you were crying out, pussy juices dripping down her hand, your body shivering with pleasure.
“Fuck..” you muttered, your eyes slowly opening as you felt her pull her fingers from you. It was your turn to catch her by surprise when you caught her wrist in your hand, pulling her fingers to your lips to suck them clean of your juices.
“Fuck indeed.” She chuckled, “here I was thinking I’d get a taste of that delicious pussy again.”
“I think it’s about time I return that favour.” You replied with a smirk, “don’t you think?” Your hands grasped her hips and she was quick to move one of them, placing it back on your own body between your legs.
“As long as you keep touching yourself.” She prompted, “you’re so pretty when you come, I want to see it again.”
“Mmhmm.” You nodded, sinking down so your mouth was level with her cunt.
Both of your hands soothed up her thighs, spreading her legs wider for you, lifting one of them off the ground, pinning it to the wall. After a quick glance up at her you leant forward, your tongue making a broad strip through her pussy, flicking at her clit.
“Fuck.” She muttered, her head falling back against the wall and once you were sure she was stable you moved your hand from her skin to back between your legs, lazily rubbing at your swollen clit.
Your mouth wrapped around her pussy, sucking her lower lips into yours, tongue tracing patterns through her folds, nose nudging at her clit. It only took a second or two of your mouth moving on her cunt for Emily’s hands to tangle into your hair, holding you close to her needy pussy. As her body relaxed into the wall her leg draped over your shoulder, pulling you deeper in between her legs.
“Christ you’re good at that.” She murmured, a little gasp escaping her lips when your tongue flicked her clit.
Your tongue slid through her folds again, groaning over the taste of her, sucking as much of her juices into your mouth as you could. The tip of your tongue sunk into her pussy, massaging the best you could as her hips rocked toward yours and she let out a little whine. You surged upwards, blowing cool air onto her clit before your lips wrapped around it and she let out a low groan.
The hand you hand between your own legs sunk lower, thrusting two fingers into your dripping pussy as your free hand ghosted up Emily’s thigh and slipped inside her. As you sucked on her clit, tongue drawing patterns against it your did your best to match the pace you were fingering her with the speed you were riding your own fingers. Face buried in her cunt you hadn’t realized she’d managed to open her eyes, gazing down at you between her legs, little whines and moans vibrating against her pussy as you ate her out, fingers curling in both of your pussy’s at the same time.
“Fuck you look so pretty like this.” She panted out and your eyes cracked open, lips curving up into a grin as you looked up at her, tongue not daring to leave her body, you’d never be able to get enough of her taste.
“Mmm?” You gave a particularly powerful flick of your tongue, your lips brushing against her as you spoke, “yeah? You like it when I eat your pussy?”
Your lips wrapped back around her clit right as your fingers curled into her g-spot and she was at a complete loss for words as her head dropped back again with a louder swear. You could feel her pussy clenching down around your fingers, her body trembling, clit throbbing between your lips and you knew she was close. You groaned loudly when your fingers hit the pulsing spot inside your pussy and Emily’s fingers clenched tighter into your hair, a dribble of her juices leaking down your wrist.
“Fuck I’m close.”
Your fingers fucked faster into her, working your dominant hand with ease in tandem with your tongue, Emily’s pants getting closer together and heavier above you. Any attempt at stringing words together was now reduced to incoherent mumbles and swears before she cried out, her back arching off the wall, clinging to you to keep upright. The hand between your legs quickly returned to her thigh, pressing her back into the wall and keeping her spread open while you fucked her through her orgasm, eagerly lapping up the stickiness smeared between her legs.
The fingers tangled in your hair loosened, a hand softly stroking down your cheek as her leg gently dropped from the wall as she was finally steady on her feet again. You pressed a kiss to her inner thigh as you rose back to your own feet, slowly backing toward the small bench, your hands ghosting across your own skin, fingers sneaking between your legs.
“Such a sweet tasting pussy.” You murmured, “that’s enough to keep me going all week.” You sat down on the bench, spreading your legs wide for her, “but I do believe you wanted to see me get off again.”
“Mmhmm.” She nodded, her eyes darkening as your fingers spread your pussy lips wide for her.
You were throbbing around nothing, practically begging to be filled so you wasted absolutely no time, three fingers sinking into your waiting cunt. Your head dropped back with a moan, your other hand pinching at your tits, rolling your nipples between your thumb and forefinger before gliding down to your clit. You fucked yourself fast, squelching sounds coming from your pussy as the whimpers leaving your lips got louder with each thrust of your hand, the pressure on your clit getting harder with each circle. The taste of Emily still so apparent on your lips and your tongue more than enough to drive you wild, combined with the feeling of her eyes on you. She wanted to memorize every inch of your body but could barely pull her gaze away from your pussy, eyes flicking upwards every time you made a particularly interesting noise. It didn’t take very long before your thighs were shaking and your second orgasm was shooting through you, your chest heaving. Your eyes flickered open, catching Emily’s gaze as you pulled your fingers from your dripping cunt and sucked them between your lips, mixing the taste of yourself with hers on your tongue.
“Jesus Christ.” She muttered with a wicked grin and a small shriek left your lips as she nearly pounced on you.
The bench was the perfect height and size that Emily was able to cage you into it with one leg while the other one remained on the floor. She managed to angle it just right that her throbbing clit was pressed directly against yours and you let out a moan at the sensation, still so sensitive. Her tongue delved into your mouth, massaging yours as she moaned over the combined taste of your juices. Her hips rolled hard and fast into you, your hands clutching at her ass, grinding her body down onto you with each thrust.
“Fuck…” you groaned and she nipped at your lip, “gon’ make me come again.”
She knew she wasn’t that far off either, pressing her pussy harder against yours as one of her hands began to play with your tits again. “Let me see you baby.”
A little bit more of Emily’s coaxing praise was all you needed to come a third time and the feeling and sight of your body shaking underneath her was enough for her orgasm to wash through her.
Her face fell into the crook of your neck as your hands soothed up and down her back while she caught her breath. She kissed the side of your neck softly, a hand ghosting up your side before she tilted your head toward her, watching you for a moment before you gave her a small nod to indicate that you were more than completely alright. Standing from the bench she helped you up, guiding both of you until you were properly under the stream of water, adjusting the temperature again to make sure it wasn’t running cold so you could wash off.
You wrapped yourself in a ridiculously soft and cozy robe, leaving Emily some privacy in the bathroom while you meandered through the suite. You grabbed a bottle of water from the mini bar before scooping up the remote and flicking through the channels to find something to watch.
Emily came out a bit later, ruffling a smaller towel through her hair as she approached the bed and you glanced up at her with a curiously raised brow.
“You’re dressed?”
“I can’t stay, my flight leaves at six a.m.”
“So you’re just gonna leave me looking like your everyday call girl.” You teased and she huffed, rolling her eyes with a grin on her face as she dropped the towel onto the other bed.
“A common call girl doesn’t get a hotel room like this.”
“Fair point.”
“And I expect to see a charge for breakfast on the room bill.” She practically scolded, “if Heather’s working you to the bone you need to make sure you’re eating.”
“She’ll make it up to me.” You shrugged, taking a sip of water, giggling at the near glare Emily shot you, “but yes, I will take full advantage of the amenities before heading out.”
“Good girl.” She pinched your chin affectionately before scooping up her phone, “I’m in New York until Thursday, I’ll call you when I get back?”
“I’ve got a banquet on Friday and a fundraiser running all weekend but my schedule next week looks clear.”
“Perfect.” She grinned, “I was hoping to check out the Willard.”
“Just ticking off one luxury hotel at a time, I see how it is.” You smirked and she laughed, leaning in to kiss your cheek before she slipped her coat back on.
“Get some rest princess.”
______________
@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @honeyycatt @trauma-factory @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog
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Loki x Partner!You Halloween Headcannons
A/N: Leans into grumpy x sunshine trope, fluff/humour/lighthearted/not to be taken seriously. Gender neutral.
Loki awoke to you being missing from bed, confused and rather disgruntled that he couldn’t get morning cuddles, before he remembered exactly why you were up before him…
31st October… It was Halloween.
You had been yapping all about it the previous day, and of course he listened, even if he didn’t quite understand why it was such a big deal.
“I thought you would love Halloween!” “Why?” “Because you’re-“ “I’m…?” “Well… y’know… you.” “I’ll try not to take offence.”
And as Loki arose, he began to hear the faint sound of music, a song he didn’t recognise but sounded festive (it was ‘this is Halloween’).
It was then he found you, in the kitchen, still in your pj’s humming and singing along to the song playing gleefully.
Sometimes he envied just how carefree you acted, but he also loved it. It… brought out a different side to him, subtle but definitely there. Not that he would admit that, of course.
“Must you play that racket at such an early hour?” “This is Halloween, Halloween, Halloween!” You continued to sing gleefully, grinning at him in amusement. “And here was me thinking it was Christmas.” He quipped dryly, making you roll your eyes before turning to reveal the ghost shaped pancakes you’d made for breakfast.
Loki had to hold back a small smile from tugging at his lips, it really was quite silly. But… adorable. And so, he raised a brow, looking down at them with a skeptical eye.
“You’re lucky I like you.”
After breakfast, you were very insistent that your typical yearly routine commenced, much to Loki’s dismay. It consisted of going to the supermarket and grabbing as many sweet treats and spooky confectionery as you could.
Of course, knowing Loki didn’t appreciate artificially sweet Midgardian treats, you told him you would allow him to pick his own selection of dried fruits and any other snacks he wanted.
“How thoughtful of you.” He teased wryly at your ‘allowance’. “Shut up, you know what I meant.” Of course he did, he just loved winding you up.
“You do realise this is all a farce? What began as a tradition of the souls of the dead returning to their homes has been turned into a commodity, another way for corporations to make money.” “I didn’t realise you were so concerned about the effects of capitalism.” “Well, I do unfortunately inhabit this planet as well, do I not? It affects me too.” “Loki, did you even pay for that bag of dried fruit?” “No. Why would I?” Of course you sighed, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose.
Loki loved teasing you, it was so easy.
Underneath it all, Loki was warmed that you wanted to share your enjoyment of the festivities with him. He loved seeing you excited about it, seeing your eyes light up at the silly decorations the mortals put outside their houses as you drove back home. Although, he did have to grab the steering wheel once or twice as you got distracted by some of them.
“I don’t understand why you mortals watch these ‘scary movies’.” “Why do you stab Thor as a prank?” “Because it’s funny.” “And?” “And because he deserves it.” “And…?” “And because it’s thrilling?” “Ding ding ding.”
“Also don’t you think saying he ‘deserves it’ is a little harsh?” “He’s a God, it basically equates to a paper cut.” “Paper cuts really hurt.” “I know.” He smirked.
It was when you began laughing at the rather gory scene on the TV that Loki raised a brow, slowly turning his head to look at you, watching you shove another handful of sweets into your mouth as if you were watching a children’s film.
“I do hope you’re not getting any ideas.” “What?” “That laugh of yours is almost maniacal.” That earned him a light slap on the arm. “I fear it’s too late.”
In your defence it was a very silly, cheesy, predictable scene. But that’s why you loved it.
Half way through the film, Loki conjured a blanket, putting it over you both as you continued to tuck into the sweets. He didn’t know how you could eat so many without being sick. It was… impressive.
Your pumpkins you’d carved earlier sat on the coffee table, the tea candles flames dancing within them both. You had carved yours into a classic spooky face and Loki had… simply stabbed one of his daggers into his and carved his own name. Yes, the dagger was still in the side of the pumpkin.
Loki now was deciding that he needed cuddles to make up for the lack of them that morning, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest.
There was a jumpscare, which managed to actually make the God of Mischief jump.
“Oh my god, did that get you?!” “No-“ “It did!” “No, I was simply… readjusting my position-“ “You jumped! Ha! Who knew you were jumpy, you always act like-“
It was then Loki swiftly decided he could not have his fearsome reputation tarnished by such slander. His hand moving from its place on your arm, sliding up to cover your mouth, silencing you. He smirked as you glared at him, although you couldn’t hide your own amusement.
“You were saying?”
As the night went on, the excitement of the day and the early start crept up on you, making you grow sleepy, especially being nestled against Loki, safe and warm in his embrace - somehow you were always warm in his arms despite his cooler skin. He just… made you feel warm. Just as you did him.
It didn’t take long for Loki to sense you had drifted off, feeling your breaths slow into peacefulness - which was quite the contradiction to the chaos unfolding on the TV screen. But, you had always been able to sleep around chaos… Finding some sense of peace in it, in him.
He readjusted the blanket around you, shifting himself to ensure you were comfortable.
Whilst Loki may have not been the most vocal when it came to his feelings, he showed it in other ways. The subtle ways, like this moment. He let himself smile softly at your sleeping form, before he let out a content breath, resting his cheek against the top of your head.
Maybe Halloween wasn’t so bad after all.
#loki x reader#loki laufeyson x reader#loki#loki mcu#marvel loki#loki headcanons#loki imagine#loki x you#marvel headcanons#loki fluff
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The Storm
Some fluff for @jilytoberfest Day 29: Cold Winter Nights.
AO3 Link Here
“Alright Potter, if you are going to tease me then I will just go home—”
She turns on her heel to find that he’s now close—too close for them to be in a sitting room where Mr. or Mrs. Potter could walk in the door at any minute.
“You wanted to stay the night.”
“Mum, it's all right. I spoke with Mrs. Potter and she said that I can stay over without a problem. God knows they won’t even realize I’m here with a house this big—”
She feels weird talking on a phone in an otherwise aggressively ‘wizard’ sitting room, but both James and Mrs. Potter had been delighted to hook up their ancient telephone so she could ring home.
“I’ll be back in the morning when the storm lets up.” She hangs up the phone and turns to find that she isn’t alone. James stands in the corner, arms folded behind his back, face cut in half by a wide grin.
“Do I want to know?” She lifts an eyebrow and his grin gets impossibly wider.
“Storm will make it hard to get home, eh?”
She ignores him, pretending to become fascinated with the book selection.
“Because it’s not like floo powder still works in a storm.”
She hopes that if she remains silent he will let up—a rookie mistake.
“And it’s not like storms effect apparition—”
“Alright Potter, if you are going to tease me then I will just go home—”
She turns on her heel to find that he’s now close—too close for them to be in a sitting room where Mr. or Mrs. Potter could walk in the door at any minute.
“You wanted to stay the night.”
Her throat goes dry, cheeks burning. She could deny it, push him away and tell him to get his thick brain out of the gutter, but her brain is going fuzzy with his body heat leaning into her.
“I just figured that since Sirius is at his uncle’s, I could just bunk in his room. Mum’s very nervous when I travel—”
He hums in dissatisfaction, close enough now that the sound vibrates across her skin.
“Sirius’ room—you definitely don’t want to go in there. Merlin knows what he’s been up to.”
“Then I’ll ask your mum to make up one of the other rooms—seems like you have an endless supply.”
He nods, taking a step back. The distance creates a visceral reaction and she fights the desire to take him by the shirt and press their bodies together.
“Definitely the reputable thing to do—ok c’mon then.”
She follows on his heels as he lopes his way through what feels like labyrinthine corridors, passing portraits of men with familiar untidy hair alongside elaborate paintings of mythical creatures. They get to the east side of the house and James stops at a heavy set door that is left ajar. A glint of red and gold peeks out from the crack.
“Is this where I’m staying?” James cheeks flush. All of his cockiness drained into a bashful expression.
“No—this one’s mine. But there’s a room right next to it that you can use.”
She can’t help herself. She presses on the door and it groans open. It's like his dorm room but with grander treatment—similar quidditch and music posters line the walls but instead of a modest four poster bed, a much too large mahogany one takes up most of the room.
“Quaint.” She can feel him watching her and she turns back to him. He’s straight as a board, face a deep crimson as his eyes search her face.
“It’s—my room.” He says weakly, like this wasn’t already known. “We can…go in if you want.”
Her heartbeat quickens. There is little left to the imagination when the boy you’ve been snogging for months invites you into his very big, very welcoming bedroom. Her mind wanders a floor below where she knows his mum and dad are both sitting in the study, simultaneously too close and far away.
“Maybe you can show me the other room first? That way I know where it is–”
“Right.” He turns quickly, movements more erratic than they were down in the sitting room.
He walks a couple of steps to the nearest door and turns the knob. Inside is a mirrored bedroom, but with significantly less character. For Potter standards it’s a simple guest room but it surpasses any room the Evans’ house could dream to have.
She sticks her head through the doorway to scan the room. It’s good, a comfortable and safe option—but that’s not what she wants.
“I like yours better.” She states plainly, but her whole body flushes crimson. His head whips to her, eyes blown wide.
“Yeah?” He steps close, confidence mounting with each second. She can feel a warm hand hover at the small of her back and his face looms so close she can see the flecks of gold in his irises.
“Just because it’s supposed to be a really cold night.” Her brain is swimming, vision now being taken over by him and his hovering lips.
“Would hate to have you freeze to death on my watch,” he murmurs, lips grazing hers, eyes closing. His other hand curls into her hair and she leans into his touch.
“---and I’m not very keen on storms.”
“Me either—terrified of them.” His lips skim past her mouth and drag a path up to her ear, a smile evident.
“You don’t think your parents-–” but he’s already grabbing her hand, ushering her back towards his room. He walks his way backwards so as to not remove their distance from each other, lips finally making contact.
“Don’t worry Evans,” he says, a smirk forming against her, “Just like you said: with a house this big, they won’t even realize we’re here.”
#jilytoberfest#jilytober fest 2024#jily#james potter#lily evans#jily fanfiction#yallthemwitches#marauders era
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another snippet while I slave away lol
this one hurt a bit to write x
“My mums are lesbian!” he blurts out, excited enough to attract the attention of his teacher. When she appears, he grins at her sweetly; the kind of smile that has melted many hearts, though Nico is unaware of how many people know he exists. “More paper, please.”
“Nico, you haven’t even tried with your first one.”
She isn’t harsh at all, but he has slowly learnt to stop asking follow-up questions. Six months of exasperated ‘I don’t know, Nicolau’s has taught him that.
He shrugs. “Okay.”
He learnt what a shrug was the other day, when Mapi told him off for doing it to her. (“Don’t shrug your shoulders at me, Nicolau Putellas!” she had chided playfully. “All I asked was which of your mamas’ houses we need to go to.”)
“Nico, what’s ‘lesbian’?”
“Mama says football is lesbian. Basketball might be lesbian! That’s why your sister is lesbian.”
“My mum says that lesbians kiss girls.”
“Mama kisses girls! And Mami. And they used to kiss each other but now they don’t speak and me and my sister swap houses.” Nico begins drawing it out for Paula when she peers at him, befuddled. “Here is Mama’s.” A big square, a glamorous-looking woman inside of the blue shape; a stick with a circle on the end of it; the notes he sees in his piano music floating in the air. “And…” he says, tongue sticking out as he concentrates on the opposite half of the page, “here is Mami’s.”
He draws a football. He picks up the red crayon too, and uses both the blau and the grana simultaneously. “Mami plays football for Barça.” He draws two lines on Alexia’s t-shirt. 11. “Mami made me get 11 at football.” Nico had originally worn the 10, but then the affair had come to light and Alexia was suddenly deep in conversation with his coach and apologising to the boy Nico then had to swap shirts with.
Then, he drops the crayons in his hand and searches for the stack near Paula. He selects the purple one, gripping it tightly, his friend still listening to him with intrigue.
“This is me and Lela.” Two stick figures are drawn in the middle of the page; the middle ground between each of the squares.
Nico sometimes feels stuck between it all.
When Mami got very sad, he and Elena went to stay with Mapi and Ingrid for a few nights. He held his little sister’s hand as much as he could. He always tries to remind her that he is right there with her.
Mami once told him that it was his turn to protect Elena. Nico hasn’t forgotten that.
“I keep Lela safe.” He has encouraged her, slightly selfishly, to call him ‘skipper’, which he has picked up from the Lionesses. Luckily, Alexia has not told him off for it because she doesn’t know what it means. “Lela is my little sister. She is a baby. She doesn’t remember what it was like when Mama and Mami loved each other, but I do.”
The purple crayon scrapes on the page as he presses it into the white, colour rubbing out in the shape of a heart. “Lela and I are together. Mami tries to take me from her sometimes, but I don’t let her.”
His story – and ability to make Paula pay attention for longer than ten seconds – has already garnered the quiet attention of his teacher, but she moves closer as Nico continues. The four-year-old leaves out how Alexia usually is inviting him to training with her. With Elena yet to show any interest in football, it remains her and Nico’s special thing, and, of course, she misses him when it is not her turn.
You usually give your permission if you have no other plans. Alexia is upset that the only hindrance is the little boy who once worshipped her like a god.
“Nico, why did you want two pages?” asks Paula curiously, assuming he is finished now that his whole family is displayed on the piece of paper.
He frowns. “Because now I have to do this.” And with that, he tears the sheet in half.
Paula’s mouth drops open in surprise, as does his teacher’s.
“What’s wrong?” comes a mature voice, a hand placed on his shoulder just like it is when the other children in his class cry. Nico doesn’t cry. He is strong and brave, like a little soldier. “Did you not like your drawing?”
“No,” he replies neutrally, “half can live with Mama, and half can live with Mami.”
“But now you are ripped down the middle.”
He traces the jagged edges of the halves of his life. One leg is on your side, the other on Alexia’s.
“I know, but it’s okay. I don’t cry.”
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𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ── ✧ sh. (i. spring day)
congratulations! you have been invited to the romance reality show 'We Got Married' where you will live with your co-star like a married couple. but what will you do when you find out you are marrying your favorite idol?
✿ pairing: idol!seonghwa x fem!idol!oc
✿ genre/tags: fluff, developing relationship, idol au, fake marriage, reality show
✿ word count: 1.3k words
✿ note: the first chapter is here! i honestly wasn't expecting to grab so many people's attention or be interested in the story. but tysm and i hope you all enjoy!
✿ melodyanqel taglist: @hwa-stars @forever-atiny @moonvol6
❪ March, 2024 ❫
Spring awakens with a chatterbox of greens, cherry blossoms are bright and lively, and the winter snow uncovers a new beauty of nature.
The place is cozy with the delicious smell of fresh baked pastries, and brewing teas and coffee. Soon enough, a young beautiful woman steps inside the cafe like a radiant goddess.
All decked out in a spring outfit which consists of a pink flower dress, white cardigan, frilly socks, and black Mary Jane shoes. Her pretty face etched a timid smile. “Hello.” She politely greeted the employees behind the counter.
But she didn’t notice that someone had been waiting for her.
2 hours ago - KQ Building
“Okay, let’s take a ten-minute break!”
A male voice tells his seven members. He was panting heavily and paused the music on the computer. His aura gives off such confidence and demand yet with a loyal heart, like a true captain. Hongjoong takes a sip from his water bottle and his dark brown eyes watch his members. Some talked about the dance while some were lying on the floor to catch a breath.
Suddenly, Hongjoong notices a bright red object outside. The practice room’s door was a bit see-through, so he could spot it clear as day. Hongjoong puts down the water bottle on the desk to check it out.
As soon as the captain takes a look, a whole PD crew is in front of him. A big smile draws on his handsome makeup-free face. “Oh! Hello!” Hongjoong politely greeted. The producer points at the red mailbox by the door to take it. Hongjoong snickers and brings in the object.
“What is that, hyung?”
The maknae, Jongho, his eyes widened owlishly at the mysterious mailbox. Yunho, San, and Wooyoung looked bewildered at their captain.
Hongjoong shrugged. “I don’t know, but we will find out together. Everyone in the middle.” He tells them and they obey his command. After setting down the mailbox, Hongjoong opens it to pull out a pink envelope with a sticker sealing the letter.
Yeosang’s eyes brighten. “Guys, look! It’s from We Got Married if you remember the show.” He points his finger at the iconic logo as a sticker.
Mingi furrowed his full eyebrows. “There’s a new season?” The deep-voice rapper is bemused. Hongjoong responded, “Let’s see if you are correct, Mingi-ya.” He tears open the envelope to read the letter inside.
Congratulations!
You are selected to join Korea’s #1 romance reality show “We Got Married” where you’ll spend a whole year with your co-star, living as a married couple. We will be sure to provide safety and care throughout the love journey. Plus, there are missions and thrilling events along the way. We hope you have a happy and healthy marriage, 🐰⭐
The emojis reveal who is chosen as the husband and groom.
“Eh?! Seonghwa hyung?!” San perks his head at the oldest member.
Instantly, all eyes were on him. Seonghwa is speechless with boba eyes popping out of his socket.
But within seconds, the members all burst out cheering for him. Jongho carries the still-shocked Seonghwa in bridal style and twirls him. Yunho and Mingi played with the lights while Hongjoong, Yeosang, San, and Wooyoung did a conga line and chanted, “Park Seonghwa is getting married!”
After their mini-celebration, the group sat on the floor and discussed the future of Seonghwa’s future marriage. The PD crew even asked him who would be the lucky bride and sister-in-law. They all assumed it would be someone close to Seonghwa’s ideal type. But he admits to them, “I honestly don’t mind if they are not because I’ll still love them for who they are.” His response made the guys awestruck.
“Wow, hyung. I didn’t know you were that manly.” Jongho spoke with sarcasm.
The guys laughed out loud when Seonghwa sighed in displeasure.
He has the letter in his hands and keeps looking at it. Hongjoong could sense the uneasiness of his best friend. The captain pats the oldest’s right shoulder. “Hey, you should be excited. Why are you so nervous for?” He giggles lightheartedly. Seonghwa can get nervous, but this is the most he has ever been.
His skittish behavior caught everyone’s attention. They had worrisome faces because Seonghwa was more than the oldest member of ATEEZ. He is like their big brother, whose gentleness and softness have so much adoration by many. Seonghwa shares his thoughts. “There was a moment when we talked about relationships. You all considered that I’ll be the best husband to my spouse. So, I’m uncertain if I can live up to the statement.” He confesses his vulnerability.
Yunho is on his right and pats his other shoulder like Hongjoong. “You’ll do great, hyung. Not everyone is perfect or understands how marriage works at first. We also don’t know as well. But we can give you support and help if you need it.” He assured Seonghwa.
Of course, they’re ATEEZ and more than just a group.
A family and a safe place.
Wooyoung hops out of his spot to back-hug Seonghwa. “We love you, hyung! We want you to be happy!” He presses a sweet kiss on the eldest forehead. Seonghwa grimaced by his overly affectionate friend. In a sincere voice, “Thank you.” He says and is forever grateful. In unison, the guys came to Seonghwa in a big, suffocating group hug.
“Yah!! I can’t breathe!!” He yells out loud and tries to move himself. Despite literally getting crushed by love, he is enjoying it.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚
-Interview-
Replacing the casual look with a dapper appearance, Seonghwa sits on the stool and is wearing a refined dark gray blazer, white dress shirt, black pants, and dress shoes. His ebony locks are elegantly curled and set in place.
“Hello, I’m Seonghwa of ATEEZ.” The man’s deep, velvety greets the viewers that are watching.
Q. Are you familiar with We Got Married?
Seonghwa nodded. “Yes. I didn’t fully watch the show when it aired because I was still in school and training under the company. I’ve only seen clips of legendary artists paired up, and I was intrigued by how they handle marriage while having an idol life.”
Q. Do you think you’ll live up to your group’s statement?
A sheepish laugh escapes from his plump lips. “At first, I thought it was a joke because we make up silly sayings. But I didn’t expect it to come true.” He takes a deep breath to compromise himself. “I’ll do whatever I can to make my wife feel like she is the luckiest woman.” Seonghwa declared genuinely.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚
Mission of The Day: Try to surprise your bride.
When the producer explained about the task, Seonghwa was giddy yet anxious. He’ll disguise himself as a barista at a dog-centric cafe and surprise his future bride.
After freshening up, as in putting Seonghwa in a uniform and a mask to hide his face, the PD crew drives him to the destination. A camera on the headliner records him texting his members. Seonghwa says, “My group is eager.” He chuckles merrily. “They want all the information about today. It feels like they’re my parents.” In which, he is unsure to tell them about this reality show.
Will he introduce his wife to his family?
Even though it’s for entertainment, Seonghwa becomes curious if they’re interested to know more about his fake spouse. Well, that has to wait. He brushes it off and cares more about the current time.
Subsequently, the producer announced the arrival at The Wal’z dog cafe. “We are here. Good luck, Seonghwa.” They give him their best wishes. He thanked them wholeheartedly because he hadn’t stopped the nerves from skyrocketing.
When he enters the place, he is greeted by adorable furry friends. “Hi~” Seonghwa immediately bends down to pet their soft fur. “Wow. I feel less nervous now.” He is convinced that he just needs some comfort from the dogs.
Seonghwa pouts, “I’m sorry. I have to work now.” He apologizes to the smiling furballs. However, they didn’t seem to care because they wanted pets.
Eventually, the male idol begins his mission by heading to the counter and pretending to act like he is a barista. Although it may be for the show, Seonghwa actually wanted to learn how to make the drinks and pastries.
He’ll possibly make them for his wife.
series masterlist
#ateez#ateez fluff#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez fic#ateez seonghwa#seonghwa ateez#park seonghwa#seonghwa#seonghwa x reader#seonghwa x you#seonghwa x y/n#seonghwa x oc
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good afternoon here's my big rant on my pet peeves for subtitles in movies and tv
This is a post that I’ve thought about making probably for years now but never got around to. I might add more later if I realize I’ve forgotten any
When it comes down to it, the purpose of subtitles is this: to reflect exactly what the audience can hear, precisely when it can be heard. If you fail to do this, your subtitles are bad and you should feel bad. Although I don’t have concrete examples for most of these off the top of my head, I promise I have experienced them all firsthand at least once.
-> Watch for spelling and typos. Obviously.
-> Syncing issues.
This should go without saying, but the captions should be synced as closely as possible with dialogue and sound effects. Subtitles that are out of sync are worse to me than no subtitles at all. They’re unbearably distracting and I have to turn them off. I’m fortunate enough that I can keep watching without them, so imagine how frustrating this is for someone who needs to keep them on no matter what.
-> Jumping the gun.
This is basically an example of out-of-sync subtitles that are slightly too fast, but it gets its own category because it ruins the viewing experience in its own unique way. In particularly dramatic scenes, actors will often draw out their lines or pause between phrases. Captions sometimes fail to reflect this by displaying the entire sentence all at once, allowing the audience to read what someone is about to say before they actually say it, which deflates all the dramatic tension of the scene.
-> Phantom captions.
This one is less self explanatory, but it’s kind of similar to syncing. Sometimes there will be significant intervals of time between lines of dialogue, especially after a scene ends and a new one begins. The interval may include music, sound effects, or complete silence, but what I’m calling a “phantom” is a caption that stays on the screen after that last line of dialogue is delivered until the next line is spoken. I don’t remember what I was watching, but there was one that was glued to the screen for SEVERAL MINUTES over what was supposed to be an atmospheric break between scenes and it drove me nuts. In my experience this happens more often with older subtitling for DVDs and some old videos and less with modern streaming.
-> Straight up spoilers.
Sometimes, a character will speak whose true identity has not yet been revealed to the audience. If I’m not supposed to know the character’s name yet, don’t just… tell me right there in the captions whenever they say something. Descriptors like “disembodied voice”, “man”/”woman”, “mysterious figure”, etc. will suffice.
-> Lack of musical descriptors.
It usually helps to describe the genre or emotion of the music that’s playing rather than just writing [music] or 🎵. That being said, if there is a song playing that’s particularly well known in the mainstream, I think it’s useful to actually include the name of the song. This one I do have a concrete example for: in Arrested Development, Gob always blasts The Final Countdown during his acts. But the captions on my DVDs for the show always describe it as [stagy pop]. Like yeah I would say that song is some pretty stagy pop, but I think a lot of the humor comes from knowing that it’s specifically The Final Countdown by Europe because it’s such a perfectly corny selection that Gob would make.
Another musical failure is not transcribing pertinent lyrics. If the song is playing in the background, then that’s understandable and it can be kind of distracting if there’s dialog happening on top of it because the audience isn’t actually meant to be paying close attention to the song. But if the song is front and center, like for a musical number or montage, then the lyrics can be pretty important. Last year when I watched Arcane on Netflix with my family (a recent, high budget production from the biggest streaming platform ever), the show had the nerve to write [man rapping] over a musical sequence. Imagine if all subtitles ever just said [person speaking] for the entire movie.
-> Affectations.
If a character starts using a silly voice or accent, or if the sound of their voice changes in any way, describe that. If the audience can hear the difference, the subtitles should reflect that difference. And they should reflect it informatively and accurately; for example, don’t just say [mock accent], but specify [mock French accent].
-> Paraphrasing.
I don’t even know why this is an issue, but it’s alarming how many times the subtitles just… straight up don’t match what the characters are actually saying. It’s like the transcriber was forced to write all the captions from memory, so they kinda sorta say the same thing, but the wording is different and some sentences or phrases are missing. When I brought this up with my mom she theorized that the transcriber was working off the script for the movie because hey, that’s all the dialogue already written down, right? But it completely fails to account for revisions, improvisation, or actors delivering their lines even slightly different than how they were originally written.
And last but certainly not least, one of the biggest offenders in bad subtitling…
-> [Speaks foreign language]
If someone says something in another language, please, for the love of god, do not just write [speaks foreign language] and call it a day. Specifying the actual language is an improvement, but this descriptor only works if the audience members are truly not meant to know what’s being said (which is sometimes the case). If a character is only saying a single word or phrase in another language, transcribe it. As in, write down the actual words that they said. If you don’t speak that language, find someone who does. You are insane for transcribing a character saying “hola” or “abuela” in an otherwise English sentence as [speaks Spanish] (real examples I saw respectively in Rango and JANE THE VIRGIN. THERE’S SO MUCH SPANISH IN THAT SHOW).
If the audience is supposed to know what someone is saying in another language, English subtitles will usually be hardcoded. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, LET THE CAPTION SAYING [SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE] COVER THESE UP. This is actively impeding understanding, not helping it. Jesus christ
* Please keep in mind that I’m not deaf or hard of hearing and I don’t have auditory processing disorder; I almost always watch movies and tv with subtitles whenever the option is available because it helps me absorb information better. If I don’t even strictly NEED subtitles and these are issues for me, I can only imagine how much more difficult it is for those who rely on them more heavily. I invite you to add your own perspective!!
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