#i love a long song but they just keep repeating the same stuff over and over again until BAM sudden build | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Text

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 4/4

König x F!Reader

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Word count: 10 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Another long chapter, but it's the last one, so... Enjoy! ^^

The next night, you dream awake.

You didn’t want to sleep with your back turned against him, and König didn’t even need to scoop you into his arms. You went there by yourself, completely willingly. You were disappointed when he didn’t even try anything; he just fell asleep like a baby after the hangover that left him weak.

Your hand is on his chest, right over his heart, as you listen to his soft snore. It’s like the whole world has shrunk into this bed, like your entire life suddenly consists of him. You can’t even hear the birds, the occasional gust of wind, or the pair of sandals outside the tent going to a nightly pee. The only thing you can hear or see or feel is him.

His heart under your palm. His chest against your cheek. The slow, steady rise and fall of it, the push and pull of it like a tide. His leg, draped across your hip, enclosing you under a heavy body that clings to you like he never wants to let you go.

And…

No.

It’s too stupid.

“Love” is something bards sing about. There’s no time for it in the real world; lust brings people together, and they multiply like birds and beasts. They simply flock together for warmth, food and survival. Love is the property of dreams and songs, something that happened at the dawn of time but now only occurs in tales and plays. Surely, a mountain giant knows nothing about love… He just wants to stuff his cock inside you and alleviate the burn of his loins.

But his words still linger.

”I have fallen in love with you.”

You repeat them over and over again in your head, snuggling even closer to him, your heart flaring into a small bonfire when he squeezes you in return through sleep. The warmth spreads across your chest, it makes your toes tingle, and the tingles rise up to your head like ale, bringing tears to your eyes.

Why does he have to be like this…?

There’s a sudden crack of thunder outside, and it makes you startle and clutch him tighter. It’s soon followed by a downpour of rain, the weight of it like a blanket spreading across the land. The drops beat the tent with so much noise you fear the whole abode will collapse from the force of them.

Another crackle sends you to grip him with fear; a violent rip of lightning makes you bury your head in his neck. König mostly wakes up to your distress rather than the sounds of thunder and hail, rumbling softly to the crown of your head and drawing you closer to him. You’ve always been afraid of thunder because nothing can compete with the fury of the Sky Father. You whimper as another roar shakes the bed, the very earth beneath you, and the rain begins to beat the tent in full.

“Don’t be afraid, little one,” König mutters, unafraid and clearly about to fall back to sleep again. “Only sky father making love to his woman...”

His explanation of the horrible display of the sky god’s power wipes your mind blank for a moment. He uses the same name of the god as you, but the viewpoint is thoroughly foreign. Is this the sound of lovemaking to him?

“Safe here,” he squishes you against him until it’s difficult to breathe. Your heart is still beating in your chest as König falls asleep, the arms around you relaxing just enough to allow you to breathe again.

In the morning, you try to correct him on his strange thoughts about Sky Father. You tell him your people believe he’s fighting his enemies when it thunders, not… making love to anyone.

“Fighting or fucking,” he only shrugs. “Same noise.”

You open your mouth to explain the difference between fucking and lovemaking next, then decide it’s no use.

The weather is warm and the land is lush after the abundant rain. König takes you to a small stream and you risk to take a dip, delighted and relieved to have the opportunity for a quick wash. When you threaten to gut him when he sleeps if he takes a peek, König only laughs. Probably thinks it’s an exciting threat. Then he sits on the bank to work on a small piece of wood while you have your cold bath. He’s been carving it for a few days and has refused to show it to you, no matter how “nosy” you’ve been. It’s an unfinished piece, yes, but it still feels silly that a grown man is so secretive about a chunk of wood. You only now begin to understand that perhaps the statue of the Great Mother is not stolen. It’s not bought, and he hasn’t had it made. He carved it himself.

Shocked, you forget to keep an eye on him while you scrub and rub yourself in the stream. You never thought of him as a sculptor or even a carpenter, but apparently, some soldiers spend their leisure time in other activities than fucking and drinking and gambling.

Your hands meet the leather string of the necklace as you wash your hair, and you remember your vow. It makes your heart sink: it’s a beautiful day, the first of summer, and you have to let go of the loveliest thing König has ever given to you. You peek a glance at him: he’s looking so peaceful while carving the small figurine, with that signature smile his that always reveals itself through his eyes, warm and jovial, like he’s just a hunter or a fisherman having a break from a day of toil.

You strip yourself from the necklace and release it with a sullen breath. The spirits accept it hungrily, pulling it underwater the instant you let it go. The current carries it far away downstream, and you find your chin trembling, and not from cold. You have given your moonblood to Mother many, many times, but this gift is infinitely more valuable. Still, the most important thing is that the man you prayed for is alive and whistling happily on that bank.

And you’re not an oathbreaker… But König is.

When you rise from the water, he steals a glance. Actually, he stares at you like you’ve particularly asked him to never rip his eyes from you.

You pay the adoring beast no mind and rise from the stream with the pride of a queen, only to have it all robbed from you as you notice there are flowers placed there where you left your clothes. The crazy giant has actually plucked flowers for you.

It’s an odd thing to do because in your land, only children pick flowers. Usually, people give flowers to the gods. Or, mainly just to the Great Mother... It’s because She appreciates them.

And you also notice your old dress is not where you left it.

“Where is it?”

He extends his hands to the sides and shrugs, faking innocence so poorly that you don’t know if you want to shove or kiss him. You’re desperately trying to cover your womanhood from his searing stare – an attempt that, of course, makes your tits press together even more cutely than before. König doesn’t even know where to look when there’s so much of your sweetness on display.

This man is so stupid and childish and simply unbelievable; hiding your dress the instant you are vulnerable and in your thoughts. You look around you, then up, and notice that he’s thrown the dress over a pine branch far above your reach. Of course.

“You’re a bully,” you turn your accusing gaze to him, hands now slowly curling into fists by your side. You’re not even angry: you’re just feeling... hot, and frustrated, and embarrassed, having to stand here in bright daylight, dripping wet and about to have another tantrum while naked. You’re starting to suspect that he probably enjoys it when you get in a pet. Maybe it makes his cock hard: to watch you stomp your foot at him, especially if you do it without clothes.

“Bully?” His eyes smile at you like he’s the son of Sky Father himself.

“It’s someone who… who tortures people,” you blurt, a bit more dramatically than you initially meant to. He bursts into laughter and laughs for a long time, either because you just called him precisely what he is or because you called him a torturer for doing a silly prank.

“Ach… Well, you are pretty,” he says after surviving something that was veritably not meant as a joke. As if you being pretty is some kind of an excuse for doing this stupid, childish stunt...

His stare sweeps over you like you’re merely property, his eyes darting between your pouty face and the glistening sex between your legs now that you’ve blessedly moved your hands out of the way. Then he notices that something’s missing, that there is no necklace resting above your breasts anymore. He takes a step and raises a hand, and for the first time ever, you wouldn’t even dream of shying away from his touch. He brushes your bare neck with a silent question and brief hurt in his eyes.

Gods, he can’t think you got rid of it because you despised it, can he...?

“The river took it,” you explain quickly and with genuine regret. It’s a lie, but you can’t tell him the real reason it’s gone. You can’t confess that you had to sacrifice it for his safe return.

“I really liked it,” you whisper while looking him straight in the eyes, stomach heavy with both lies and the horrible, sweet truth. König recuperates surprisingly fast and nods slowly, the caress rising to your cheek to console you.

“Don’t worry. I can make you a new one,” he promises stoutly, and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from bursting into tears right there in front of him. “With wolf claws, if you like?”

“I don’t know… Sounds dangerous.”

“Hah. I kill my first wolf when I was fifteen.”

Your heart is bursting inside your chest – the songs of the bards never tell about someone being so goofy that you want to hug them until they stop speaking silly things.

“I’m sure you did,” your lips quiver with a whisper of a smile. König takes in every crumb of your affection like it’s a blessing from the Mother below: his shoulders draw back everytime he senses you are appreciative of him or admire his strength. He’s even more proud when he presents the small carving he’s been working on.

You’re now absolutely, vehemently sure that he has made the statue of the Great Mother himself. Because what you’re looking at is very similar to that statue, only far more detailed. The breasts and hips on this figurine are more proportional, and you could almost swear that the statue he just gave you is trying to depict you. It has your hair and your face, or then he has tried to capture the slightly pouting face of some other ungrateful woman. But you can’t shake the thought that you may very well be looking into your own eyes.

“For you,” he says above you, and you swallow tears for gods know how many times today. He even winks at you, incredibly playful, like this statue is now a cute little secret only you two know about.

“It’s–I didn’t know you… Uh. Thank you,” you stutter like a fool. You can’t ask if it’s you – you can’t ask a simple question because to hear his unabashed, proud answer would mean that you won’t be able to hold yourself back from kissing him.

You are starting to feel like… an idol of worship, almost.

He lavishes you with gifts and flowers, he feeds you grapes and wine, he brings you his bloodied loot and asks you to bless his sword. He honours your purity and respects your wishes not to be touched and pilfered.

What else are you if not a goddess?

Even the Mother in his satchel doesn’t get such fevered attention. He even carved a new statue for you. Of you.

Your senses become eagle-sharp as you realize just how much your suspicions are proving true. You think about the way he is always at your tits, as if calling forth good luck and abundance when he squeezes them every day and night. It’s almost like a ritual. Or how he tries to dress you in fine clothes, not just to show you around, but to make you feel appreciated. The way he protects and shelters you and lets you – no, demands you to – ride his horse while he exhausts himself on the road. How the selecting of the necklace now seems like a test, to prove whether you are a true goddess who favors a gift of bone and blood and amber over the pathetic shiny trinkets of men.

And the way he hasn’t touched other women all this time; no, because he doesn’t keep other goddesses...

Just you.

Only you.

…

He knows your tongue so well that you don’t practically need the translator anymore. König sends him away after you whisper in his ear that you don’t like him.

It’s another lie because what you really don’t like is how bothered he looks when forced into the company of you two. You don’t like the deep sighs and the weary looks he gives both you and your supposed lover who always insists that you sit on his lap even if there are other people in the tent. You don’t want to make the poor man uncomfortable, so you come up with a reason for König to send him away. It's quite apparent that you could ask for the moon and stars, and he’d figure out a way to give them to you.

When you ask him why, for the love of all the gods, does he even want to keep a Roman slave, he says it amuses him. You always thought it was an odd thing to do because you’ve never seen König spend time with his soldiers. He never gambles with them, never eats with them, never hunts with them. By separating himself from them he keeps up an illusion of himself as a walking, fighting myth who has forced half the world to its knees, and whose quirks are to keep a Roman slave and, now, a foreign fairy in his tent.

You start to understand that it's because he doesn’t feel like he belongs.

He doesn’t even want to belong. He doesn't make an effort to be a Roman even if, legally, you suppose he’s a citizen or at least a free man. You wonder if it’s his only weakness: being so different from everybody else.

You walk in and out of camp like a free woman with him. To the forest, to the stream, and one day, to the ocean, not too far from where you used to gather clams. If you walked the shoreline long enough, you would end up near your old village.

You spend your entire day there, collecting pink and white shells, giggling as König takes a dip in the shivering sea. He even throws the hood away before walking into the foaming waves. You have to hold your breath as he comes out because his face is the complete opposite of what you thought you would see. He has stern features and some prominent scars above his lip and crossing the bridge of his nose; there’s one above the left eye, and his nose has been broken at least two times. He looks mean and dangerous and suffering, it’s true, but you’re not scared at all. In fact, your embarrassingly wet while he furrows his brows and looks down at his feet, otherwise proud and happy in his skin but now suddenly concerned that you might not like what you see.

“Ugly?” He asks bluntly, with such distanced but sharp pain that your breath leaves you entirely. The vision of him might have frightened you on the first night, it’s true, but now, you only think he’s handsome. In a crude way, perhaps... But still handsome.

“No,” you shake your head slowly, never taking your eyes off him. König takes in air as if he has been granted a pardon from a horrible crime, and your heart hurts – is this the reason he has clung to that hood? To conceal some old scars and to appear more menacing to friends and enemies?

He’s stronger than ever as he walks to you, unclothed and smelling of seabreeze and salt, like he was just born from there, sired by the ocean and the wind. You ought to pray to Mother but you know it will do you no good. It’s a rotten joke to want a man who has massacred your people, the ones you used to call friend and neighbour and kin. You feel like you’re betraying the memory of your whole village by wanting to sleep with the enemy. The enemy who worships you; who looks at you like you’re a goddess when you lean back to watch the night sky come alive with indigo and stars. The enemy who teaches you their names in his own tongue...

He points you to the Head of the Serpent and the Smith’s Street, then to the Nail that holds the sky in place. You have your own names for the stars but you like it when he introduces them to you, clumsy and excited. When he shows you the long cock of the hero your people call Hunter, your cheeks heat up. You try to repeat the name in his tongue (whatever lewd, brash northern hero it may be), and it makes him happier than ever to hear you speak his words.

“König,” you ask him when he's shown you all the stars he knows. “Why do you fight…?”

He turns to look at you, perplexed, and you word the question differently.

“What do you want?”

“...What do I want?”

“Yes. In this life.”

His brows furrow as he starts to think, and your love for him only grows. Has no one ever asked him that before? Has he ever even given it a thought...?

He grabs a handful of grass and rips it from the ground, absentmindedly and deep in thought. He fiddles with it for a while, then throws it away, looking somewhere to the distant, generous sea.

“I want…children,” he says. “I want a home.”

König turns to look at you, so stern that it forces you take support from the earth beneath you.

“Home. Richtig?”

“Yes,” you whisper, “A–a home.”

But it can’t be...

It can’t.

It’s simply too crazy that the brutal, callous giant has been searching for a home all along. That the man who cuts off heads and spits out the flesh of his enemies is simply someone who has lost his home and has yearned back ever since. It’s too wild a thought that the Titan wants to raise a family and have many children.

“Don’t you have a home somewhere in Rome…?”

“It’s only a house.”

He fidgets with more grass, then turns back to you again with honest curiosity.

“Do you want children?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Fee. You would be a good mother,” he determines right then and there, saying it so casually that you have no choice but to believe it. You want to change the topic, and quickly, now tugging at the grass yourself because you're feeling shy.

“König… What is Fee?”

“Fee is… They are small women? Live in trees. Or flowers. Or everywhere,” he gestures vaguely all around you.

“You mean fairies,” you whisper, and he shrugs. If you say so. But you know you're talking about the same thing: curious little earth spirits, lively and wild.

Your heart is burning; it’s scorching until there’s nothing left but sweet molten gold. Usually, this kind of burning has stirred in your chest when some old crone has told a good story at the fire during the turn of the year. Usually, you’ve felt this kind of thrill when you’ve heard the piper play for the forest during springtime, lulling the devious spirits back to the trees so that they wouldn’t enter lambs and goats and make them sick. You’ve only felt so alive when you’ve walked at the beach during midsummer with a desperate aching between your legs because you’ve felt so alone and yet so, so alive.

“They said you were a Titan,” you whisper, another hushed question on this night of nights. You feel like you’re having a conversation of the ages, even if it’s clumsy and plain. The night sky is blooming with stars, the sea is whispering its secrets, and there are so many unsaid things between you two, finally washing up on the shore. König is ripping out more tall grass, but only because he’s searching for the right words.

“No. No titan. Just king,” he shakes his head as if sorry that he has to disappoint you. “I was the king’s son. Before Rome came…”

He’s suffered the same fate as you then, a long, long time ago. You wonder where his people are now or if they are even alive anymore, if he is the last giant standing, the last remaining man of his folk from the mountains. If the ruins of his proud house have already turned to dirt and dust and soil, if his father’s head was left to rot on a Roman spear, his riches and wealth taken back to Rome as spoils and exchanged for wine and whores and slaves.

You can only imagine the fury and despair when a tall boy’s future and dreams crumbled into dust, to blood and tears and screams, to a tale that no one ever told.

“You’d make a great king,” you say, meaning it with all your heart. His whole face lights up with a smile; the sorrow is still present in his eyes, and you know the depth of its roots now. But the Romans never managed to kill his will to live.

“If I was king… I would choose you for my queen,” he says softly, and you thank the wind for drying an escapee tear that rolls out. Fate is shaking your ribcage like a rattle; the wind steals your tears like they’re a long-withheld gift.

He tells you his tale under the safety of the vast starry sky. It's only bits and pieces, but you understand enough from his clumsy words.

He tells you how he was brought to Rome as a slave, sold to the pits and how he rose to manhood and fame there. He fought in the great arenas you’ve heard so many gruesome tales about; he fought until he could buy his freedom. He forgot his people, his revenge, that he was a king. Not knowing what else to do, he took up arms again and became the thing he hated the most: a Roman soldier.

He tells you about a woman who can see things that have not yet happened. He asked this seer if there was anything else for him in this life but death; he would give any offering that was needed if only he could find more life instead. He had already given money and offerings to all the fertility goddesses of Rome, to no avail. He had carved a statue of Venus to attract love, but it didn’t work. So many times he had wanted to throw it in the sea. Until the woman who sees told him he would find what he was looking for in his next campaign. When he promised he’d come back to kill her if she lied, the old crone had only laughed at him.

The next day, he was discharged from his old unit and separated from those who spoke the same language as him. Everyone was afraid of an uprising that would have a giant at its head, so he was offered money and whores, even a position in politics, and lastly, a place in an elite unit with a better wage. They told him the troops were about to leave for the harsh frontier: a new campaign to bring glory to Rome. He chose the latter option immediately.

He turns to look at you. Bloodless, thin-lipped, shivering you.

“She said you would be pretty. Like a fairy.”

You hear the distant rumbling of the sea, endlessly soft. You feel the wind suddenly passing through the field, filling the cloak of a northern king who came all this way just for you. Even the stars are waiting for your next move.

“I…” you start, already breathless. “The necklace… König, I’m so sorry. I had to give it to Mother.”

“Mother?”

“To the gods. So that you wouldn’t die in battle.”

Realization dawns on his face, driving away all doubt and confusion. He’s just as pleased as the day he gave you all those gifts, if not even more so.

“You make sacrifice for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper. You can’t help it: a sob wrenches out of your chest as the first tears fall. “I’m sorry. I really liked it... I’m so sorry–”

König rises immediately, only to come to you and fall to a crouch. He draws you against his chest, your weeping face soon held right against his heart.

“Never say sorry,” he kisses your head, over and over again. “Never say sorry…”

The wind surrounds you both, soft and warm, as he rocks you back and forth. You hug him with all the strength a little fairy can muster, then raise your chin to look at him. You’re probably the most pathetic creature he has ever seen – you could swear there is no woman alive feeling as weak as you feel now. König cups your face gently, the look in his eyes that of a hunter who has finally caught up with his prey. Warm, merciful, loving.

“Fee… I can still taste you,” he says.

“I can still feel you,” you whisper back. A deer, felled. “But I don’t… I don’t like biting.”

“Biting…?”

“Teeth.”

“Ja. I noticed.”

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You would let him bite you anywhere and everywhere now. You would actually kill for it if he only laid his mouth on you...

You laugh with leftover tears in your eyes, and your giant smiles back at you, so endearing that you feel like it’s the first day of the rest of your life.

“Do you like bath?”

…

You ease into the warm, almost too warm water with a sigh.

The slaves have had to toil the better half of the evening to heat such a large body of water, and you can’t even begin to imagine where König has gotten the pretty little clay bathtub. It’s the largest pottery you have ever seen; far too small for a giant like him but just enough for a fairy woman like you.

You wash yourself languidly, feeling like the queen of the whole wide earth. Someone has even poured some of the scented oils into the bath, and you could cry from happiness as the sweet scents envelop you. You wonder if the wife of any chieftain has ever experienced such luxury and warmth.

König has the most pleased smile on his face when he sees how much you appreciate yet another gift of his. He pampers and spoils you so much that you threaten to turn into an overripe grape, too soft and sweet and juicy, unable to keep intact anymore. But there’s a price to be paid, apparently, as he watches you from across the tent, sitting in his chair and pulling back the tunic to reveal the the erection between his legs. It’s the biggest cock you've ever seen, and already standing tall and proud, like a soldier about to go to war.

Your lips part on their own; heat shoots between your legs so fast it knocks the breath out of you. He seems to love your attention and awe, because his cock gives a few pulls just from you staring at it. Pearl-white seed leaks out of the tip as he grabs it inside a strong fist and gives himself a few unhurried strokes.

“König…?”

You’re breathless, but he’s not: he’s breathing heavily in that chair, powerful thighs spread wide, stroking the thick weapon between his legs while you feel like fainting in your bath.

“When will torture end?”

He's dark, dark and done with patience, and you don't know how to answer such a question. You don't even know where to look.

“Hm? You like to torture men?”

“No,” you whisper, cheeks hot and cunt ridiculously wet.

“Yes you do. A little bully, hmm?”

“König–”

“I’ll show what happens to bullies.”

He lets himself go and rises from the chair. Your mind is of no use to you now: all you can do is stare at that thing between his legs, pointing towards you like a road sign.

He walks to you, cock and gaze equally heavy, and gets rid of his tunic. Then he gestures for you to rise from the tub. You’ve spent enough time there in his opinion, and the water is indeed turning unpleasantly cool – but if you go to him now, you won’t be able to fight him. Not when you’re in such a pleased, lax, purring state. Perhaps that was the whole idea...

You rise slowly, then step out carefully, taking support from the edge of the tub and from his shoulder – and still almost collapse all over him as you try to remain on your feet. He holds you upwards while you try to avoid the murder weapon between his legs, but your giant is not as shameful as you: he grabs your butt and guides you flush against him. You meet his chest with a gasp, the length of him now trapped between you two.

“Wait, I’m—I’m still wet,” you try to peep, but it’s no use. He sweeps you off your feet, no doubt with the intention of carrying you to the bed.

“I will lick you clean,” he looks at you like you’re already trapped, caught, and bled: such a weak little creature in his arms, trying to beg for mercy with its last dying breath. You cling to him as such, that’s for sure.

“Just... No biting. Please?” You whisper as he lays you on the bed.

“No biting,” he gives his valiant promise, accompanied with a confident flash of a smile.

Gods…

If he’d gotten rid of that stupid hood earlier, your legs would’ve been pudding. They would’ve been as far apart as the two villages east and west of here. That smile would have allowed him to infiltrate everything in between. Perhaps it’s a good thing he is not that clever…

“Oh gods–” you gasp as he shifts down and lowers himself for worship. His breath hits you first, and the next thing you feel are his lips – still smiling – then the gods-forsaken beast gives you a kiss.

“Oh–”

There is a sudden silence following your moans, then you hear soldiers bursting into laughter outside your tent. They’re warming themselves by the campfire, no doubt, sharing stories about war and women, and now they’ve heard the first mewls of surrender from their hero’s tent, after weeks of quarrelling.

Your cheeks heat up as one of the soldiers utters a hurried sentence and mentions König’s name, after which the merry crew booms to laughter again.

Gods take the Romans and their stupid, lewd jokes...

You try to concentrate on the warmly lit burgundy ceiling as König carries on without paying any attention to what’s happening outside. They could march into the tent and try their best to rip him off your cunt, but you doubt if they would get him to move an inch. He's simply that drunk on your taste.

You wonder if his chin is already covered in your juices because his kisses are open-mouthed and hungry – he even tries to push his tongue inside you. The man has absolutely no shame when he's buried down there, groaning with approval as you roll your hips. You're rutting his face as shyly as you possibly can, and it makes him purr and rumble with bliss. The noise he makes is enough to make you sing too, so filthy that it earns you a whistle from outside.

Shit... They probably think he's fucking and hurting you with his cock – a scary prospect, yes, but you'll have to cross that bridge when you get there – and they couldn't be more wrong. If they only knew what their champion is doing to his slave, lapping and sucking his disobedient woman like a starved dog...

“You like mouth?”

It’s hungry, so dark, the way he asks if you like what he’s doing to you. It’s not the mad lust of a drunken man from a few nights ago; it’s sober, fierce greed with a clear purpose behind it. Your fingers find his hair and tug at it weakly, not to cheer him on, but to take support from something relatively stable.

“Yes… Yes, just–"

“Gut,” he grins into your folds, coarse stubble scraping you deliciously raw. “I like this too. After I lick you enough, I will fuck you.”

Your fingers curl around his hair, giving him another involuntary tug.

Gods, make him stop talking... Just tie his tongue or something, make him shut up.

Please…

“I will bully you all night with cock. I know you will like. Hm?”

He prattles more nonsense in your cunt, and you can’t hear the men outside anymore. You can’t even see the lamps. You’re in a womb of pleasure, which is funny because there’s a grown man between your legs, dragging his tongue over your slit until you're shaking and crying on the bed. Yes, if this is a womb, you never want to leave...

And he’s not eloquent; you don’t even know what he is trying to do to you. He probably doesn’t know it himself. He’s not trying to fish for cues on what you like: he just does what he feels like doing, which is everything. He tries every single thing. He’s just happy to be down there, flicking and circling his tongue over your nub until you can’t take it anymore.

You're dangerously close, and rise halfway to push his head away because it’s just too much; it’s too much pleasure in one go. He gives you a husky laugh and fights your weak attempts to make him stop, the damned bastard. You’re too frail to resist him, and he knows too much already, repeating the torture until your hips buck up.

“Gut... Like that...?” He asks again, so eager to please that you have to stifle a sob.

“Yes... Yes, just like that,” you sigh while trying to stay in one piece.

“Guide me, little fairy,” he demands, excited like a young, hot recruit. Apparently it's no big deal for him to have his head tugged and shoved and dragged just for a woman's pleasure. It doesn't take away an ounce of his power to be your toy for a moment. Your sharp tongue has left you completely; it is you who is humbled as you guide him back to the right spot, jerking when he licks you just the way you wished.

It’s bad enough that you make a mess on his bed and moan like a paid woman, giving everyone in this camp a taste of what it sounds like when a giant bullies his fairy to the full. But can’t he keep his stupid, lovable mouth shut...

He’s making so much noise that you can both feel and hear him. His moans are hoarse, needy and deprived; they echo somewhere in your core, somewhere inside your most sensitive, aching place, just before he finds it, the right spot, and pushes his tongue inside you.

“Wait…” you gasp, convulsing on the bed now. What the hell does he think he’s—

“Wait—I’m…”

And then you cum, right into his mouth, with an arched back and quivering thighs, with such lewd sounds shooting out of your mouth that complete silence follows outside.

Whatever those soldiers had thought to happen here tonight, they clearly didn't expect to hear that… Nor the cries that follow, so nasty and wanton that König doesn't withdraw, not before you have clenched and cried your fill. He enjoys your peak to the last tremble, but you barely get to catch your breath before he leaves you. He doesn’t even give you a chance to caress his head as thanks for what he just did to you.

His mouth leaves you empty and cold as he rises, watching you like you're his best conquest. His cock is so hard it juts out, immovable like a rock and so intimidating that you stop breathing for a moment.

And he doesn't allow your breathless, shocked state go to waste: he grabs that horse cock and sets it on your flush, soaked lips, and pushes the head inside. More than just the head inside.

“Oh gods, oh fuck–”

Your legs are completely useless, falling to the side as he eases himself into you. He looks at you curiously, tilting his head when he hears you curse for the first time in his presence. More than just amused, he goes deeper still, delighted that he made you say a naughty word with his cock.

You can feel the stretch; you can feel every ridge, every vein, all his thickness filling you with purpose. You can do nothing but flutter your eyes as he takes you, finally, as his own.

And it must be some cruel joke of both Mother Earth and Father Sky that it prolongs whatever bliss he just gave you with his mouth. Your body won't stop having its pleasure; it welcomes him with a string of helpless whimpers. Even your cunt starts to squeeze him like it's the best thing in this world.

And he sees it. He feels it.

“Ja, little one. Time to fuck.”

He continues his journey inside, one massive palm landing on each side of your head as he leans over you.

“Einfach so… Trust me. Hmm?”

You only nod, completely silent and tame, waiting for him to give you more gifts. Mother knows this man is your downfall: your heart and soul are about to burst into flame when you look at him. You want him with your whole being; you want his love and praise so much you could cry.

“You want cock?”

“Yes,” you look up at him, eyes surely shining like stars. “Yes, yes, yes–”

“I will give you. Don’t worry.”

You sob as he withdraws, pulling the long, delicious cock almost completely out. He returns immediately when you whine from the loss. He feels so good, and so, so big… Fulfilling you entirely, every bit of you that was hollow and empty, every little space that needed loving is now his and filled with love.

“Verdammte… Götter, du bist zu eng,” he huffs and looks down as if to check if it’s true that he’s finally inside you. It could never fit in fully; you both probably knew that. But he’s trying his best.

“What does that mean?” You pant, impatient that he stopped moving.

“Too small... For me...” he laments. Or brags.

“Any woman is too small for you,” you mope underneath him, thinking about whether he has had women who have been able to take him fully in. Women who haven’t been “too small”.

König raises his eyes to you and smiles, revealing a row of white teeth, the scarred lip making his grin look pure and sweet even if he is a menacing man.

Stupid mountain giant… He's just proud of not being able to fit inside you. Your lower lip juts out with a pout, and the cock inside you responds immediately with a pulse. You can feel it — he's fucking excited about you getting angry at him again.

There is a flash of mischief in his eyes – darned bastard – just before he swoops down to attack your neck. Your tits get crushed under a solid chest as he nuzzles close to your ear and gives you lots of love and little bites. He starts to fuck you slowly, and there's nowhere you can escape now, nowhere you can flee his mouth or teeth or cock.

“König, you promised–”

“Aber… You are more tight this way?”

The breathless laugh that follows leaves you blinking. Of course he can feel the way you tighten around him every time he gives you a little bite.

“Gods, I hate you…” you whisper on his shoulder, thinking about biting him there in return. König laughs in your neck again – your threats of hate have long past lost their intimidating nature and are more like love confessions to him now. And perhaps that’s what they are.

He makes love to you hard and good, and it’s embarrassing, how you're about to cum again around his cock. You were supposed to have your revenge by showing him you have teeth too, but find yourself biting your lip instead, trying to tone down at least some of the filthy sounds that try to escape you.

He's not too rough, at least not yet, happy with listening to the poorly stifled whimpers that follow his every thrust. You thought he'd rail you like an animal, but he seems to settle for making love to you while biting and groping you all over. He savours every thrust like he savoured those grapes you fed him: slowly and intently, with passion instead of greed.

You're squeezing him with everything you have as he rocks you back to the edge. His grunting only make it all worse: he doesn't even try to be quiet and decent, and it's driving you to madness. Why does he have to be so noisy? Why does he have to fuck you so that everyone can hear just how good you feel?

Every soldier in this camp can hear both your moans, his hoarse ones and your weak ones, merging together until you do sound like animals in heat... You’re so wet that some of the men must hear the music of that, too. You never knew your cunt would be so hungry and needy, least of all for a man like him. You grip him as the waves approach, rich moans turning into pathetic little cries as his cock works you open.

“Again…?” He smiles a surprised laugh on your neck. The waves hit you before you can tell him to shut up.

The noise you make is even more obscene this time, and you barely catch a glimpse of his drowsy, victorious stare before your head falls back. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to take in the most powerful orgasm and the most powerful cock of your life without having to see that stupid, happy face of your lovesick giant.

“Nein,” he grabs your jaw inside a huge but gentle hand. “Eyes open.”

He won't even let you cum in peace, but you do as you’re told, finding him watching you like a stormcloud or a god. He watches your every tremble, every whimper, every sigh. He sees the full-blown love in your eyes, and you wonder… Is this what the bards sing about in their stupid songs?

…Weakness?

Because your heart hurts and your eyes sting, your thighs tremble and your cunt is far too wet and open for him to plough. If this is love, it hurts; it burns far too sweet. It leaves you utterly weak.

“Little one is needy,” he comments softly on your second downfall.

“You’re the one who’s needy–”

Your already weak argument ends in a gasp as he reminds you who you belong to with another good, deep thrust.

“I will put a child in you,” he rumbles, a threat or a promise. “If we do this every night… You will have my child.”

“Then let’s do this every night,” you whisper beneath him, your own purr of a threat. As if you didn’t know how babies were made… To your silent joy, König stops to catch his breath or your words; you’re not entirely sure which. You decide to up the stakes, just to make him fall with you.

“And every morning too?”

“Ach, du kleine–” he crumbles, voice turning to dust from your innocent suggestion.

If you thought he was a little too in love with you before, the look on his face now is worth all the gold in the world. You could swear that your kind question is the sole reason for this man cumming on the spot. Perhaps your body is to blame for it too; he couldn't keep his paws off when you were being sulky and difficult, so how could he take it when you're pleased and loving and all puffed up?

You see the brief flash of vulnerability, the mortal fragility in his eyes just before he shoots his load with a painful-sounding groan. The sound that leaves him is a mixture of desperation and release – even giants can cry, you think as you watch how beautifully he comes undone. He makes sure his seed is sent deep inside you by burying his cock into you, as far as it can go; the intention behind it is so clear that you wouldn't be surprised if you got heavy with a child after this first time.

He falls on top of you after, drained and spent and body heaving from exertion. There’s no other sound in the night but the satisfied panting of you two: the soldiers outside are rendered silent by the sounds of true lovemaking, even the wind spirits are hushed tonight.

You’re completely filled, and with his cock still inside you, he’s preventing any precious seed from escaping. You’re only glad he’s too weak to move because you’d happily keep him here forever, inside and on top of you like this.

“You are pleased…?” He turns his head a little, sounding worried enough to make you hug him tight.

“Yes. Very much,” you whisper, and he moves to rise and look you in the eyes.

“Gut.”

It’s cute to be nose to nose like this with him, eyes locked together, lips only a hair’s breadth apart. He looks so intoxicated and happy without even being drunk that you break into a small laugh, eyes brimming with happy tears, the washing away of relief. He smiles too, then laughs with you.

The soldiers outside might think it an odd business: to make a woman moan and laugh with a cock. You were brought to this tent screaming, and he made you scream again, just not the way they thought.

The sound of your mutual laughter rises in the tent, up towards the heavens, surely making even the Sky Father smile above.

…

You do it every night, and every morning, too.

Sometimes, you do it during the day after bathing in the stream. After washing and playing in the water, you rush to the shore together, but König is always faster than you. He throws your dress away or holds it up above his head, far from your reach, smiling like the most innocent man in the world. He's far from innocent, though: his cock hangs heavy between his legs, swelling just from seeing you angry and flustered and wet.

“Bully,” you accuse, utterly in love and out of breath, earning you another attack of a love-hungry giant. You forget the dress when he kneels on the grass, kisses your stomach and your thighs, keeps you in place for his mouth with two strong arms and a love that turns your whole body weak.

“Pretty,” is the only thing he breathes as an answer before he scoops up your leg and spreads you open for his mouth.

Your head rolls back with a choked sigh, the drops on your skin dry on their own. Somehow, you end up on the grass with his mouth glued on you. The sun plays in your hair; it dances on your face as he gives you more and more until you know, you just know that if you do this every night and morning and day, you will definitely have his child.

He tells you his real name, his true name, the one his mother gave him. You moan it in his ear just before you cum around his length. Sometimes, it makes him purr; other times, it makes him grunt. Once, you hear a soft, pitched whine.

He’s more rough when you’re on your knees. You’re shy and wet when he commands you to prop yourself on your elbows and show him your cunt. He licks you from front to back, feasts on you until your breaths turn to shivers. You squeeze your eyes shut from how obscene the scene must look; you hope to all the gods the Roman slave won’t come to ask his travel guides back when König finally rises and takes a wide stance behind you. He sets himself on your opening and pushes in, fat and greedy.

You can only whimper as he starts the thrusts, starved and slow, picking up the pace and holding you in place by the hips when you approach the brink of another collapse. You fear you will lose your mind if he keeps doing this to you every day. The only thing you hear are the breathless, warm grunts of encouragement behind you.

“You can take it. You can take it. Already took it, little one…”

He won’t stop, not even as you cry out loud, the cock hitting you in places that make your legs nearly give in. He won’t stop even as tears brim, not even as you start to sound like a tortured animal; no, he just tightens his grip on your waist and pounds you harder. You cum with a moan that would make Roman whores blush, but your lover doesn’t mind at all. He cums right after you, with a roar that could raise the reverend dead from their mounds.

Afterwards, he’s gentle again. He gathers you in his arms like his most valuable possession, caressing and breathing you in, giving you a soft kiss behind your ear.

“You’re... mean,” you try to remember how to breathe as he gives you more of those hungry kisses. You already know he likes it when you’re so spent you don’t have the strength to squirm or fight him.

“Ja. And you become more nice when I bully you,” he whispers in your ear. “More calm… Less difficult.”

“Well, you don’t,” you turn inside his hold, eyes shining brighter than the stars or even the sun. “Crazy man…”

“You have robbed me of my sword and shield, it’s true. Robbed my heart too. Little thief.”

“Thief? You’re the one who stole me…!”

“And I’ll never let you go.”

You wriggle a hand to cup his face, meeting his eyes with such helplessness that it’s not even funny anymore. If he’s joking or playing with you now, you’ll kill him with his own swords.

“You promise?”

“I make a vow,” he declares ceremoniously, with a hand on his heart. But you doubt that he’s playing any games; you wonder if this man is even capable of lying or deception. You hug him so tight that he has to let out a grunt – surprised and pleased – after which you have to bury your face in his neck so that he won't see your tears.

“I am in love with you, Fee,” he whispers in your ear while caressing your hair, ever poetic for such a simple man. “Tell me. Do you like me too…?”

“Yes,” you breathe a half-cry, half-laugh in his neck. “Yes, you crazy giant. I like you too.”

You rise just enough to kiss him. It’s hungry and delivers everything you can’t say. You can’t tell him you love him; you simply can’t. You’re not ready for the painful happiness it would bring forth. He stabs you full of it anyway.

“I will never let you go. Never. Not when I finally found you, little one...”

…

Summer comes.

The camp moves lazily to its next destination, but when the next battle comes, König refuses to fight.

His soldiers blame you, of course. You have bewitched him with your softness, making him soft and spineless as well. It is unheard of that a warrior like him would fall like this: out of some woman’s underhanded spell rather than dying gloriously in the field by a barbarian blade or two. Even poison is considered better than this.

No one understands that there is no hex. The war is still being fought, this time inside his soul. It’s not just you preventing him from taking up arms; it’s something else, something old and deep-rooted you've managed to stir in him. Something ferocious, something that has been asleep for a long time, something that is far from all things soft.

You two sneak out from the camp after the bulk of the army has marched away. He takes you to the seaside again, to a wild, roaring shore. You laugh and bask in the sun, swim in the sea and eat the first berries of the season. You lie on the tall grass, naked as the day you were born: it's simply too hot to wear anything except your glowing skin. König starts to ask you peculiar questions while tracing the soft line of your spine.

He asks what kind of house you would like to live in, and tries to find out in a roundabout way if you would like to live in a forest or in the hills. You treasure the sound of waves, and König likes the sound of the wind in trees, but you both love steep hills and the open view of plains. You get the idea that he may want to retire somewhere in the near future.

He tells you he is not a good fisherman but can hunt everything that moves. He is good with a spear, with traps and the bow, and he’s tired of hunting humans who only wish to live in peace. The arena he could understand, but the war on foreign lands, not. And if you begin to swell with his offspring, the Roman encampment at war is the last place for a sweet little fairy like you. He asks what kind of village you used to live in and is somewhat sad to hear all the things you tell him. He says it sounds like home, the one he was taken from many years ago.

When you return to the camp, it’s like you two are a different species altogether, two wild animals who sneak from the gates back to the flock, back to being human, back to being caged and tamed and stunted. The grumpy, tired soldiers witness your wildness and happiness with sullen distaste. To them, your appetite for freedom is the filthiest, most treacherous thing in the world.

The commander of the troops summons König at his feet and threatens to flog him if he ever skips a battle again. He’s told that only barbarians ignore orders like this: at the turn of a whim or a woman or wind. If he doesn’t remember who he is, not the reckless murderer of his youth but a man reborn, a noble Roman citizen, he will risk descending into apathy and greed again. Was this the case, Rome will guide him back to fold again by the crack of a whip if it has to.

That night, you tell him that you love him. Wherever he goes, you will go. That night, when you’re lying in his arms, sweaty and spent and thoroughly happy, he speaks words so wild it shakes the whole tent with a wind.

“If I kill the soldiers, will you come with me?”

It’s only a mutter, a murmured, careful whisper, but it makes you rise to sit and place a hand on his chest for extra support.

“Kill the soldiers? You mean… Kill the Romans?”

“Ja. All of them.”

The shock quickly makes way to disbelief. Can such a thing even be done? He’s a giant, but he’s still just one man. But König doesn’t look restless at all; he looks like a man who has finally made a decision he should have made years ago. He looks like someone who is at peace with their soul.

"Where would we go?" You whisper weakly, unsure if he has given this enough thought or thought at all. It’s now the wanderer in him who speaks, the adventurer who fears nothing because he has already lost everything – and found the most precious, essential thing.

You. Himself…

Free will.

“Wherever you want.”

“What if you get killed…?”

“You take treasure and horse and go.”

…

Your mother always said that it's useless to sway a man if he has chosen to stand up and fight. She told you that the best you could do is go grab a sword and join him.

That is why you give him your blessing – your full, ardent blessing.

It makes him stronger than ever: were he to go out there with nothing but his skin, he would be victorious. The oak that hears your magnificent spell shivers from fear above you as you call down earth, fire and wind.

You call the spirits from below to guide his feet and make them swift and silent as a feather in the wind. You call down the lightning from the sky to accompany his sword as he deals his blows. You cloak him with the fury of the dead; they will smite down his enemies when they catch even a glimpse of him. You shroud him with the Mother's blessing so that he will be untouchable, unstoppable, invincible as he deals death among the Romans.

It’s a terrible spell; even the moon withdraws into a cloud when She hears it. Not even the lady of silver twilight dares to reveal this giant to the Romans as he’s about to descend upon them.

He rises with the power of fifteen men and gives you a kiss that nearly topples you. He smiles before he leaves you, and never looks back as he goes to do the deed of a legend.

You watch the massacre up from a hill. A safe distance from the camp, but close enough to see how König destroys a whole cohort by himself. The plant you mixed into the “reconciliation wine” he gave his soldiers and the commander before nightfall makes it laughably easy because most of the men are still half asleep when they burn inside their tents. The oil spilt on the dry dirt and linen roars aflame now with the help of the wind and earth spirits as König torches the camp. The occasional few soldiers that rise to meet him with fear in their stare are already broken by your spell before his swords impale them.

The old translator is the only Roman who wasn’t given a cup of foxglove wine because he was König’s slave, and now he can see that he is blessed among men. The God of War faces him with swords pointing to the ground, fury planting his feet wide, and it takes the old Roman a while to understand that he’s the only man who gets to walk out of this camp unharmed. As grumpy and unsociable as he is, you wish him good fortune on his future journeys, even utter a quick protection spell to shroud him as he leaves towards his destiny on enemy land.

The slave women, sober, confused, and free, run amock to gather weapons, cloaks, food, and valuables before escaping the camp. König doesn’t even notice them, and they pay little mind to the enraged god ramming through puny mortals because they’re too busy getting out of the burning castra.

How fitting it is that the only people escaping the hellfire are a few beaten women and an old, weak-calved Roman – every able-bodied soldier burns inside his tent or meets their end at your lover’s blade.

The wind spirits help spread the fire so eagerly that you begin to fear that König won’t make it out in time. You whisper prayers into your fist, curled around the Mother who has already given you so much. She has also taken away everything; like seasons, she has reaped and sown, but if she reaps your lover now, you will walk into the sea.

Mother is merciful and returns him to you, unharmed and glorious. He's the same ferocious beast you saw half a moon ago, and also the same ferocious man who was inside you this very morning. You see a god of war, and he sees the mother of life and death, perhaps, because his first words to you are a ripe offering.

“I avenged them all,” he says when he reaches you, thrumming with victory and smelling of smoke and ruin and blood.

He has been born again; he has walked to a new dawn through fire and death and returns to your arms like you two have known each other since the beginning of time. You’re not sure if he talks about his fallen ones or your fallen ones, or everyone who has fallen to these particular Roman spears. You’re not sure if this is his downfall because what you’re looking at is only the downfall of the Roman campaign on your lands. You and König are very much wild and spirited and free. If this is a downfall, it feels like being lifted towards the sky. You see in his eyes that he feels the same as you.

The whole world is new as you leave towards a new life. Sun rises, and takes years off your backs. You wash him in the sea and kiss the salt away from his lips, and it feels only right that he takes you on the grass after slaughtering your enemies.

You bury the statues and the bronze sword in your old village, long abandoned and thoroughly looted. The old woman is in her hut, dead as a stone, and she finally looks happy, with a calm little smile on her face and flowers in her hand. She looks like a young girl, almost, ready to meet the spring of her life.

"Ready for adventure, little one?" König smiles as he raises you to his horse. He takes direction from the sun while you look down at his happy, golden form – your god, your life, your love.

Your new beginning.

...

Translations:

Richtig? - Right?/Correct?

Einfach so - Just like that

Verdammte… Götter, du bist zu eng - Damn… Gods, you are tight

Aber… - But…

Ach du kleine… - Oh you little…

Scheisse - Shit/Fuck

#könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x you #könig x female reader #könig x fem reader #konig x reader #konig x you #historical au #Roman soldier!König #könig smut #könig fluff #könig imagine

3K notes · View notes

diabolikangel158 · 3 months ago

Note

Can you do the Vees x reader (separate) where they see you watching an edit of them and you start fangirling, despite already dating them? Thank you!

Alas, I’ve finished this post. Honestly wasn’t even to hard, I just got busy. I’ve got so much stuff I need to do and want to do, but no time to do it.

Vox x Reader, Velvette x Reader, Valentino x Reader (separate)

Disclaimer: Hints of unhealthy relationships, borderline stalking behaviors, some hints at abuse and anger issues, controlling behaviors from the Vees, suggestive content

Vox:

You lay quietly on your bed, scrolling through TikTok. You remember when you first arrived in Hell, you were simply relieved that there was technology at all, and even better, there was your beloved app. When you met and hit it off with the tech overlord himself, you were thrilled (almost as thrilled as Vox was with you). Vox had mentioned at some points that he was concerned with your “addiction” to the app, sometimes silently wondering if he had accidentally hypnotized you into being so enthralled with it. However, after a few random checks, he realized that it wasn’t his doing at all; you just really liked doom scrolling on there. In all honesty, he felt some kind of pride seeing you spend hours using his tech. Plus, it kept you busy while he was running around his company and discussing various things with other overlords.

You chuckled to yourself, repositioning your body to alleviate some of the stiffness you felt from reclining in the same posture for so long. You swiped up once more, your jaw dropping open. You had seen edits of other people before, whether they were famous actors, idols, and even fictional characters, but this was the first time you’d seen this. It was an edit alright, a sexy song playing in the background. However, there was no actor or idol, but your very own boyfriend, Vox. Vox, CEO of VoxTek, Vox.

A couple things ran though your mind as you watched it on repeat. Hey, it was a good edit. He would kill them if he ever found out who made this. Or would he? Maybe Vox would like this. You giggle a little at the thought. Of course he would like this. You may love Vox, but you’re not blind to how egotistical he can be at times. For all you know, he probably already had a folder titled “Me Edits” on his phone. You went ahead and liked the post, pressing the bookmark icon to save for… future use?

Of course, the TikTok algorithm figured you out pretty quickly. You continued to see and like more videos, finding a new way to pass time on the app. You were so enraptured, you didn’t notice Vox walk into the bedroom, slipping off his jacket with a yawn. He grumbled a small greeting to you, but you didn’t even notice that. Vox narrowed his eyes suspiciously; he was used to you being obsessed with your phone, but not so much that you’d even ignore him.

He pulled out his own phone, clicking on the app that he used to keep a close eye on you… for your safety of course. No other reason. He maneuvered to the section that allowed him to view what you were viewing on your phone live. What he found… surprised him to say the least. You were watching on repeat one of those TikTok edits of him that were floating around on the internet. He pressed a button on his phone to access your camera on your phone, viewing your expression. There was a light blush on your cheeks, and your eyes barely blinked, as though you were afraid that blinking would cause you to miss something important in the edit.

Vox’s screen displayed a toothy grin as he put his phone away in his pant’s pocket. He went over to you on the bed, leaning in behind you close to your ear. “Damn, doll, I knew you were obsessed with me, but this is a whole new level. Even for me.” You whip your head around to look at him, losing the grip on your phone. Vox takes it in between two of his claws, holding it up. “Oh, so sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to interrupt your time with…” He pauses, turning the screen towards himself to view it. “Oh, yes, me.” He laughs a little.

You sat up in the bed, crossing your arms angrily. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you don’t have a folder saved up for yourself, of yourself.” You spit back, trying your best to cover up your embarrassment with anger.

Vox simply smiled back at you. “Why? Want me to share the link with you?” He laughs some more, your attempt to embarrass him being brushed aside.

You groan in annoyance. Of course this whole situation was going to inflate his

ego even more than it already was.

Velvette:

Velvette walked through the halls of the Vee tower, making her way without even having to look up from her phone. She tapped her thumbs along the screen to update her various social medias, hitting the upload button with a grin as she arrived at your room.

Not bothering to knock or make her presence known in any kind of way, Velvette easily opened the room to find you laying in bed on your back, head resting on a pillow, with your phone raised above your face. Usually, you would have noticed her by now. She cocked out her hip in annoyance, placing one hand on it as the other still held onto her phone to the side. Velvette’s eyes narrowed when she noticed you grin dazedly at your phone, pop music blaring out from it on repeat.

Velvette gives you a couple more seconds before clearing her throat loudly. You finally notice her and in your surprise, let go of your phone that you had above your head and unceremoniously drop it on your face. You give a yelp in pain before quickly picking up your phone and trying to lock it. However, the pop music continued to play, and if one listened closely, someone was saying something over the music.

“And what’s got you so enthralled that you can’t even bother to greet your girlfriend when she walks in the room?” She huffs out, crossing her arms across her chest. She walks over to you and peers at your phone, which is locked but still playing the sound. “I know it’s a damn tik tok, since that insufferable music keeps–”

Velvette stops speaking as she is interrupted by…herself.

“Ugh. No! Unacceptable. You're fired. What is this? Wrist ruffles? Is it 1750? Burn it like the witches who wore it!" Again, the pop music ensues.

Velvette looks at you blankly, before a smirk tugs at her lips. “Are you… watching edits of me?” She can’t help the chuckle that slips out of her mouth. “Seriously? Open it up, let me see what you’ve been watching.”

You unlock your phone, ashamed, handing it to her. “To be fair, they’re pretty good edits, Vel.” She snatches your phone away and begins to watch the video. She watches it without much reaction and hands the device back to you. She says nothing for a moment. “Um… are you upset about it?”

Instead of answering, she opens her phone to an app, taking a picture of the both of you, not allowing you any time to prepare for it. “H-hey! You could warn me! I don’t even look good!”

Velvette rolls her eyes, typing a message on the photo, preparing to upload it. “Please, I’m your girlfriend. I make sure you look good all the time.” She gives you a snarky grin, finally uploading the image. You get a notification on your phone– you’ve been tagged in a post… Velvette’s post. You open it to look and find the picture that she had snapped of the two of you with the caption “If you don’t catch them watching edits of you in their freetime, do they really love you?” and of course, your username is tagged in it. Various comments already start rolling in about how cute you guys were as a couple, jealous comments about how envious they were of the relationship; the usual.

You look at her, your mouth agape. “Did you really have to put me on blast like that?”

Velvette looks rather satisfied with herself, giving you a shrug. “Anyways, save your little edits for later, the car is ready for us.” You sigh as you get up to follow her.

Valentino:

You honestly weren’t surprised that Valentino had fans that made edits of him and posted them on social media. Let’s be honest, if you had the talent for editing, you’d probably be one of those fans. If you found anything surprising, it was the fact that there were so many that weren’t raunchy. Of course, you supposed, that if someone wanted to see something raunchy about him, they’d have to pay a subscription fee. Surely, there were videos of him in his prime somewhere.

You scrolled through, finding some sort of joy in the fun videos, even adding some of the music that the users had chosen to your playlists. You rolled over onto your stomach and continued scrolling. So enthralled you were with the silly videos, that you were only brought out of your stupor upon feeling a light, yet confident touch on the back of your thigh. “Hey amorcito… and just what are you looking at on your phone, hm?”

Your eyes widened and you quickly turned your phone face down, craning your neck to look back at him. You didn’t expect that he would be back so soon. “Oh, Val! I thought you said you had a long shoot today and wouldn’t be back ‘till later?!” The words come out too rushed to be considered “normal.”

Valentino tilted his head to the side. “What? Did you not miss me? Or do you just enjoy being alone nowadays?” He gives you a fake pout. “Don’t tell me that’s the case, amorcito. You’re going to make me upset…” The tone in his voice held a slight edge to it; the production from today must have pissed him off and so he cut early for him to flip this quickly. You were used to his short temper, but ordinarily you’d have at least a little leeway.

“Of course I missed you!” You reassured quickly. You sat up in the bed, crossing your legs together and looking at him with what you hope is a “Valentino-can’t-be-mad-at-me-like-this” look. Fortunately for you, he gives you a grin and pats your head, sitting down next to you.

“Well, don’t be shy, let me see what you were looking at, hm?” Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, and Val doesn’t miss a beat. He leans in to peer at you closely. “Don’t tell me you were watching naughty films… and without me! I’m hurt, amorcito.” Before you can explain that you definitely were not doing that, Valentino snatches the phone you left unguarded and unlocked on the bed with one of his arms. You start to protest, but quiet down when one of his hands holds a finger up at you, a silent command to shut your mouth.

You’re not sure what you expect from him when he sees it. Maybe to make fun of you, call you touch-starved, obsessed, a lost puppy perhaps? Can’t even be away from me for a second? You’re so pathetic it’s cute. You grimace in your head at the thought of such degradation to your person.

Needless to say, you’re surprised when Valentino squishes your cheeks with one hand, gripping your face hard to pull you close. You lips pucker due to the force and you couldn’t mumble out a preemptive apology even if you tried. Only muffled sounds would come out. “Amorcito, you’re so cute! You know, I was ready to be so angry with you for trying to hide things from me, but this is just adorable! Was my baby scared that I would embarrass them?” You nod as much as his grip on your cheeks will allow. He snickers and lets the hand on your face fall to your neck, softly grabbing ahold of it. Valentino kisses you, hard. It’s honestly rather messy, not that kisses with him were ever chaste by any means. It leaves you gasping for breath.

Val locks your phone, gently placing it on the bedside table. It’s a kind gesture if you’ve ever seen one from him. Vox loves to complain to you about how many phones Val has shattered in his fits of rage or moments of carelessness. Val lies down besides you, pulling him close to him. “You’re too good to me, carino. So, I’ll be good to you, too.” You feel one of his hands sneaking in between your legs as the other three busy themselves with removing some of your clothing. “After all, why bother with those silly videos when you have the real thing right here?” He flashes you a salacious grin before you close your eyes to endure the pleasure that you’ll be succumbing to… whether you want to or not.

#hazbin hotel #vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel valentino x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #the vees #val x reader #valentino x reader #val #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette x reader #hazbin velvette

148 notes · View notes

celestialprincesse · 10 months ago

Text

🎤♡

Luck Be a Lady closes out the night for you with cheers and claps and whistles from patrons who think that your performance is something special, uniquely for them, like it's not something you do every night (except Tuesdays) without fail. Same songs, same accompaniments, just different faces in the crowd. All but one. Although, technically John isn't in the crowd amongst his skeezy patrons, he's holed away up in a VIP booth which no one can access apart from him, listening to you sing over a bourbon from a bottle that probably cost more than your rent.

Tonight has been a more tiring one. You can already feel your throat getting tickly and sinuses getting blocked, no doubt a nasty cold coming in. The constantly changing sleep schedule and cold winter banished to he outside of the oddly cosy casino probably don't help matters, either. Upon slipping backstage, you can't help but yearn for a hoodie and some sweats, maybe some fuzzy bedsocks and a pint of ice cream to top it all off, but no luck when the stage manager gives you a quiet "Boss wants to see you."

"John." You acknowledge upon walking into his lavish office, all dark stained wood and buttery leather, plopping yourself down on the chair opposite his own - and regretting it instantly at the way it only increases your desperation to curl up and sleep somewhere warm tenfold. "Bird." Your boss coos back, already taking the initiative to flick on the kettle for you, make you something comforting. "Chamomile or green?" "Chamomile, please." You hum in response, letting your chin rest in the crook of your palm as you weakly attempt to stifle a yawn.

You nurse the sturdy mug between your palms when it's handed to you, revelling in the peace and quiet of Johns office, far from prying eyes and too loud noise, all whilst he pours himself another bourbon and settles in his own high backed office chair.

"You sang beautifully tonight." Johns voice is a low rumble that settles in your bones and warms you from the inside out. "You sing beautifully every night, but tonight you sounded especially lovely."

"Thank you, sir." The mug of tea is warm in your hands as you curl a little further in on yourself, letting your lashes flutter shut against your cheeks for just a blissful moment. "John." He corrects with an almost encouraging sternness which has a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips. "Thank you, John."

"You mentioned changing the setlist last week." The nonchalant observation of your boss has your eyes opening, meeting his eyes so blue that you'd happily drown in them. "Don't look so nervous, Bird. You're the singer, I trust your judgement. Tell me more."

"I just think that - we tend to get repeat customers, right? The regulars who come most nights." John gives an encouraging nod, inviting you to continue as he takes a sip of the golden liquor swirling in his crystal glass. "We do the same setlist almost every night, and I just thought that maybe it'd be a good idea to switch it up from time to time - keep things fresh, keep the customers coming in."

"I'm listening."

"Obviously we keep in some of the classics - the signatures; Luck Be a Lady, Art Deco, Summertime. But maybe we could also do some other stuff too?"

"Like?"

At that you give a little noncommittal shrug, taking a sip of your own drink, inhaling the deliciously fragrant steam. It only lulls you deeper into your tiredness, your longing for a hot bath and the comfort of your bed.

"Fleetwood Mac, Nina Simone, Duran Duran. Stuff that people are familiar with, y'know?" "You've spoken with the band about this?" "Mhm." "Write me up a setlist and I'll sort it."

John gives you an affectionate smile as he withdraws a cigar from the leather case on his desk, a lighter appearing between his fingers not a second later.

"You mind, Bird?" "S' no bother." "You take the underground home, that right?" "Yes, Sir." "John, Bird."

You huff out a quiet little laugh at his insistence, but give him a slow, understanding nod as you sip away at your tea, letting it soothe the irritation in your throat and warm your bones.

"I'll have a car take you home." "Sorry?"

Your obvious confusion has a smirk pulling at the corners of Johns mouth, the sides of his eyes crinkling at the sides. His hand finds yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, affectionate.

"You're cold and it's snowing out. I won't have my Songbird getting sick. What kind of a man would that make me, hm?" "I have a coat - I can always take a cab." "Or you could just let me look after you."

After a few minutes of contemplation, weighing up the thought of walking the half hour to the tube station in shoes very much not made for this weather, or giving in and letting your very attractive employer get you home safe, you give a little nod, a tired, grateful smile angled his way. Wordlessly, John leans back in his imposing chair, legs opening slightly, one hand keeping his cigar between his teeth whilst the other pats the top of his thigh in a silent invitation. It's a tactical choice on his part, a gesture which you can easily ignore, or take him up on.

The sound of your shoes tapping across the floor hits you before your actions do, and yet you can't help but sag into the warmth of his lap, curl into the hand he places so carefully on your cheekbone like a contented cat. John replaces his cigar on the pretty glass ashtray in order to pick up his bourbon, raising it to your parted lips, tipping it gently back, letting the honey coloured alcohol warm your tongue.

"My grandma used to say that Whiskey cured colds." He hums, running his fingers through your hair with gentle reverence, happy to see you relax into the comfort he's wanted to provide you with for so long.

"People also used to say that lead made for good foundation." You quip back affectionately, yawning as you lean back into his touch, letting your head rest on his suited shoulder.

"Very funny, Bird."

210 notes · View notes

cherrycola27 · 1 year ago

Text

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and eventual smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 3: Roses and Gold

"Minthe? What are you doing here?" You repeat as you take a seat at your breakfast bar.

"I came to see you, silly!" She sing-songs as she flits about your kitchen.

"What's wrong? What bad news have you brought me?" You huff, hoping to get straight to the point. "Why do you assume it's bad news? Can't I just come to check on you. It's been a while since you've been home and Hecate, and I are worried about you. Now, where do you keep your wine glasses?" She pivots.

It's always bad news

"Second cabinet to the left from the stove." You instruct her. She claps her hands before bringing down two of them and pouring both of you a glass. "I know that mortal stuff doesn't do it for you, so I brought a bottle of Dinoysus' special blend." Minthe chirps as she sets the glass down in front of you.

You thank her and take a long drink of the maroon liquid.

"So, spill, I want to hear all about this Rooster you're crushing on." She presses you.

You almost choke on your wine when she says his name. "Bradley is a coworker of mine. A colleague. A friend." You tell her.

"A friend—huh. So, I guess you were just being friendly when you saved him today." Minthe chuckles. You glare at her.

Just a friend

"Come on, Hay. I'm your best friend, you can tell me." Minthe takes a seat beside you and hits you with her pleading puppy dog eyes.

"Okay, maybe I have a few feelings for him." You relent.

"Yes! I knew it!" She whoops.

"It's just—" you trial off. "It's just what? Hades you, more than anyone deserves to be happy, especially after what Persephone did to you." Minths grumbles.

"Minthe, I know you never liked her, but I'm the one who hurt here. You saw the burn marks yourself." You remind her.

"Yes, but I don't think Little Miss Spring is as innocent as she claims. She did something, I just know it." Minthe huffs out.

Minthe was nothing if not loyal. She'd been wary of Persephone since the first day she'd met her. Never fully trusting her. And after what happened between the two of you, Minthe was one of the few still in your corner. She and Hecate had been your support group, and they were currently watching over the Underworld in your absence.

"Minthe, do you really think Persephone had me burn her on purpose? Do you think she chose to be scarred for life? " You counter.

"I don't know. All I do know is you were so in love with her, and you had never lost control of your powers like that before, and you would never hurt someone you love." Minthe finishes before downing the rest of her drink.

"But, that's in the past. Tell me about Bradley." Minthe shifts the topic.

"He's kind, smart, and funny. He's genuinely a good person. He reminds me a lot of Persephone, in the best way. But at the same time, he's different. He doesn't shy away from the pain he's felt in life, he over comes it. He doesn't let his scars, mental or physical ones keep him from being his true self. Bradley is just—he's different." You sigh. It's been so long since you've let yourself feel like this.

"I think he sounds wonderful. Maybe he is your soulmate." Minthe takes your hands and squeezes them. The smile drops from your face and you pull away from her.

Soulmate, ugh, you hated that word

"Minth, he's not my soulmate." You tell her. "You know I don't even believe in those. Not after Seph." You sigh.

"Persephone isn't your soulmate. She wouldn't have said those things about you if she was." Minthe defends.

"Even if she wasn't, I've been wandering Earth for three thousand years. If I had a soulmate, surely I would have met them before now. 'Soulmate' is a stupid word made up by the Gods and mortals to give them hope that there is someone for everyone, when their really isn't." You almost shout at her. You sigh and take another drink. The wine warms you from within and calms you.

Good job, Hades, push away one of the only friends you have left

"Sorry. I just—" you shake your head.

"It's fine. You have strong feelings about it. You're allowed to have them." Minthe reassurances you.

There is a long pause. "Hades, I know you think that you don't deserve to be happy or have someone in your life who cares about you, but you do. If you like Bradley, you should pursue him." Minthe tells you.

"How would I even begin to explain to him what I am?" You ask her. "I don't know. But I'm sure you'd figure it out." Minthe offers.

"He's just so good. Too good for me. I'd never be able to live with myself if I hurt him. I mean, what if he saw my true form and it terrified him. I don't think I could live with him calling me a monster or being afraid of me." You sigh.

That would be a fate worse than death

"Hades, you can't let fear hold you back." Minthe takes your face in her hands and kisses your forehead before hugging you. You lean into the hug. It really is good to see her.

"Now for the bad news." Minthe says as she takes a step back.

Of course

"Ah ha! I knew it!" You proclaim as you jump up from your chair. "I knew you were coming with bad news. What is it this time? What's got Zeus' lightening bolts in a twist?" You ask her.

"It's not about Zeus or the other Olympians, Hades. It's about you." Minthe settles into a seat across from you with a serious look on her face. You sit back down. You've never seen her look like this. She almost looks afraid.

"You know how we have assumed that you were still immortal after being cast off of Olympus because you reincarnate every time you die?" Minthe began.

"Yes." You nod your head.

"Well—Hecate and I were visited by the Fates a few days ago, and they took us to the lifeline temple." She continues. "And the Fates showed us your lifelines."

"Lifelines? That's impossible. I only have one. Everyone only has one." You tell her.

"That's what we said. But apparently, when all the Gods were cast off, their lifeline split into thousands of pieces. Each time they died before completing their quest, a line would snap. But they would reincarnate because another line was there. When the Gods completed their worthiness quest, the lines fused back into one unbreakable line." Minthe tells you. The gears start turning in your head.

"And because I haven't completed my quest, I never got the unbreakable line of immortality. I've just been burning through the lifelines." You say.

"Exactly. And for the others, it wasn't an issue, but because you've been on Earth so long, you've used several of them. But that's not the bad news." Minthe cringes and takes a long drink of her wine.

"Well, what's the bad news?" You press her. She hesitates.

"You only have one lifeline left. Hades, if you die again, you become a permanent resident of the Underworld, and not as it's queen. Your death would be the end of the line for you with no chance of reincarnation." Minthe drops the news on you. You suck in a breath as the realization hits you.

You aren't immortal, like you thought. You'd been so careless for so long, and now you only had one life left.

"Okay. I guess I'll have to be careful then, won't I?" You say.

Careful, sure

"Extremely careful. Hades, the next time you're home, I want it to be because you're taking back your rightful place as queen. I know you said you were done trying to complete your quest, but you need to. Please." Minthe begs you.

You promise her that you will. She gives you a smile and hugs you once more before she leaves. After she's gone, the scent of mint still lingers.

"Well, you two, it looks like Mommy is going to have to tone it down." You say as you look at Cerberus and Hydra, who are curled up together on the ridiculous large pet bed you bought for them. Cerby cocks his head to the side, while Hydra holds eye contact with you. You throw your head back and laugh.

"Who are we kidding? We all know that I don't know how to tone it down." You shake your head laughing before going to grab them some food for the evening.

Maybe dying wouldn't be the worst fate

It might be freeing

You get Hydra squared away with her dinner before opening the pantry to get Cerberus his. That's when you see it. "Oh no, Cerby, it looks like you've got just enough for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow. I'll have to head to the store across town to get you a refill tomorrow." You tell him after giving him a head scratch. Even though he didn't have three heads, Cerberus ate like he did. While your fur babies ate dinner, you decided on a quick bite yourself.

After all of you had your bellies full, you showered before tucking into bed. Hydra and Cerberus curled up at the foot of your bed and the three of you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up early for a quick run. Cerberus came with you while Hyrda preferred to stay home. After a quick shower and breakfast for the three of you, you opted to slip on a simple blue sundress and tie your hair in a ponytail. You weren't in the mood to match pants and a shirt today. You slipped your feet into some sandals, grabbed your keys and headed out.

You made a day of your pet food run, stopping to get your nails done and to pick up some groceries. You were missing home a little extra today, so you decided to pick up everything you needed to make moussaka for dinner when you got home.

When you arrived back at the parking garage for your apartment complex, you knew you didn't want to make two trips to bring everything in, so, using all your strength you gathered all of your groceries and pet food and headed to the elevator. Someone had just gotten on, and the doors were about to close when you shouted, "Hold the elevator, please!"

You had a hard time seeing over the giant bag of dog food, but you could just make out a hand holding the doors open. You dashed through the doors and let out a sigh of relief as you leaned the bag against the wall. "Thank you so much." You breathed out.

"No problem, Hades." You froze when you heard his familiar voice. You dropped the dog food and turned around slowly.

"Bradley? What are you doing here?" You asked him. He chuckled and leaned against the wall. You gave him the once over. He was in gym shorts and an old UVA shirt.

"I could as you the same thing." He fires back. "I live here." You tell him matter of factly.

He nods approvingly.

"So I ask you again. Why are you here?" You asked, praying that his answer wasn't along the lines of him visiting his significant other.

"I live here too." He shrugs.

"Wait—what?" You look at him with wide eyes.

"So we've lived in the same apartment complex for almost two months and didn't know?" You're shocked.

"Looks like it. I live in 1113." He tells you. "No shit? I live in 1013. You're my upstairs neighbor." You both laugh.

Oh, good grief

"What are the odds. Hey, do you need some help with that?" He gestures to your things. "If you don't mind, that would be great." You say just as the bell to your floor dings. Bradley picked up the massive bag of food and follows you down the hall.

"So you have a dog." He says as more of a statement than a question. "And a cat." You tell him.

You pause outside your apartment door and unlock it. You're just about to tell Bradley to set the food by the door, but he marches inside right past you.

"Careful!" You warn him, but it's too late, Cerberus is bounding towards Bradley. You're waiting for him to start barking, but instead, you hear the sweet sounds of Bradley talking to him.

"Oh, who's a good boy, you are. Is that your food? No wonder it's such a big bag because you're such a cute, big boy, aren't you!" Bradley scratches Cerby's ears and pats his head.

Never one to be left out, Hydra weaves through his legs and begins to purr. "Oh, aren't you a pretty thing!" Bradley praises her.

Obviously, your animals like him, why wouldn't they?

You drop your keys on the table and chuckle at the sight.

"What are their names?" Bradley asks you as he moves to sit on your couch, and they both join him.

"Cerberus and Hydra." You tell him.

"You're kidding? Your call sign is Hades, and you have a dog and a cat named Cerberus and Hydra?" He laughs.

"Well, if you didn't notice, Cerby, my Rottweiler is a tripod, and Hydra is a six-toed cat. So, they fit." You laugh as you start putting up groceries.

"How long have you had them?" Bradley asks you.

"About three years. I was in South Korea on a detachment. One night, we went into the city and stumbled upon an animal fighting ring. We called the cops and helped get the animals safe and relocated. Cerberus and Hydra wouldn't leave each other, and no one wanted to take both of them, so I did. It cost me a fortune to get them here, but it was worth it," you say.

"Wow, that's amazing." Bradley says. He thinks that he likes you even more now. You shake your head and roll your eyes as you unpack your groceries.

"Are you hungry?" You ask him. "I could always eat." He responds truthfully. "Well, I'm making dinner. Would you like to stay? It's the least I could do after you helped me." You tell him.

"I'd love to." He smiles as he takes a seat at your kitchen island.

You begin to flit around the kitchen, chopping, mixing, and sautéing. Bradley watches you with wrapped attention. You grab a bottle of wine and pour a glass for each of you. Even if you can't get a buzz from it, you enjoy letting the fruity notes dance across your taste buds.

"So what are you making? It smells amazing." Bradley asks you as you're layer the dish into a pan to bake.

"Moussaka." You tell him. "It's Greek comfort food."

"Greek?" He quirks an eyebrow at you. "Yeah, I'm Greek. First-generation American. My whole family is from Greece." You tell him. It's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth either. "Kolasi is Greek for inferno." You continue.

"That's amazing. Is that part of the reason why your call sign is Hades?" Bradley asks. "That and I used to have a pretty fiery temper back in day." You reply.

Bradley nods his head and takes a sip of his drink. "So your whole family is from Greece. That's pretty cool. Do your parents live around here, or are they back home? Do you have any family around here, or is it just you?" He continues trying to make conversation. You stand in front of the oven and freeze. He sees your shoulders tense up and knows that this is a touchy subject for you.

Your voice drops. It's barely above a whisper when you say, "I—I don't have any parents, and I don't have any family around here. It's just me."

"Oh." Bradley breathes out. There's a pregnant pause. "I get it. It's just me, too. I lost my dad at three, and my mom when I was nineteen." He tells you. You sigh. Bradley thinks you're an orphan like he is. Maybe that's for the best. Honestly, he isn't totally wrong. You stay with your back to him for a long moment.

"I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to. You're just—an enigma, Hades. I feel like I only know you on a surface level. I want to know more about you. Especially if we are going to be working together." Bradley tells you.

No, you don't

"Well, there isn't much to know about me. I joined the Navy at eighteen, graduated at the top of my class in the academy, and in Top Gun. Thirteen confirmed kills, but I've never been in one squadron for too long." You sigh. "That's about it."

"If I wanted to know your Naval career, I could have read your file. Tell me something deep about you." Rooster prods.

"Deep? Hmm. I have a lot of tattoos. Does that count as deep?" You chuckle.

"I mean, it's not ocean deep, but it isn't as shallow as a puddle." You both laugh at Bradley's comment. "What tattos do you have?" He continues.

"I have the rose and dagger on my arm. Kardiá tis fotiás on my ribs. It means 'heart of fire' in Greek. I have a poppy behind my ear, and then I've got a thigh sleeve of every place I've been stationed." You explain to him. You decided to leave out the details about your last tattoo. You didn't need him asking questions about it.

"Is that deep?" You ask him as you take your moussaka out of the oven and grab a few plates.

"Yeah, and now I feel like mine is stupid." Bradley snorts. "You have ink?" Now it's your turn to quirk a brow at him.

"Yeah." He slides the sleeve of his UVA shirt up and flexes his bicep to show you the Roman numerals etched into his right arm.

You gingerly reach out and trace the black numbering. "Thirty-two?" You question him.

"My mom was into tarrot cards and fortune telling. Thirty-two is the number for strength. I got it for her after she passed. The last thing she told me before she died was that she loved me and to be strong for her." There's a thick tension between the two of you as his words settle around you. "I don't think that's stupid at all, Bradley. It's sweet." You smile at him as you rub a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks. I've shown you mine. Does that mean I get to see yours now?" And just like that, his somber tone is gone, and his happy personality it back.

"Rooster, are you trying to get me naked?" You joke with him.

"Only if you're offering." You smirks. You shake your head and shove a plate at him before you can do or say something stupid.

He digs in a groans when the food hits his tastebuds.

"This—this is one of the best things I've ever eaten." He tells you appreciatively.

"I'm glad, I think I do a pretty good job with it." You smile at him and revel in his praise as he scarfs down his first plate before sheepishly asking for seconds, which you happily give him. Gods know you cooked more than you could ever eat.

After both of you finish dinner and polish off the rest of the wine, you pack up some leftovers for Bradley. He insisted on helping you with the dishes, so the two of you found yourself side by side working on them. Well, if you were being honest, the two of you were goofing around and playing more than you were cleaning. You were blowing bubbles and splashing each other and giggling like children.

"I hope you know that you're not going to be able to get rid of me now." Bradley tells you. "What do you mean?" You ask him.

"I'm like the neighborhood stray. You've fed me twice. You're stuck with me now." He tells you with a goofy grin. You throw your head back laughing, and Bradley swears it's the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. He loves the way your wide smile curls over your face and how your nose scrunches up and how the tips of your ears turn pink. You look so at ease.

He could get used to seeing you like this. Happy and carefree. It's a stark contrast to the rigid pilot he sees at work.

Soon, the two of you finish up, and you dry the last plate off before handing it to him to put in your cabinet. You turn to toss the dish towel on the counter, but slip on some soapy water the two of you had splashed on the floor and lose your footing. Bradley immediately reaches out for you and grabs your waist to steady you. Your hands attach to his biceps as you regain your balance.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, and when your brain catches up with the rest of your body, you realize what an intimate position the two of you are in. You can feel the warmth radiating off of him, and his plush, pink lips are right there.

It would take hardly any effort on either of your parts to close the distance between the two of you. Your heart is screaming for you to do it, but before you can, Bradley clears his throat and drops his hands.

"Are you okay?" He asks. "I'm fine." You say in a deflated tone.

"Well, it's getting late, I should probably get going. Thanks again for dinner." He says as you walk him to you door.

"No problem. See you at work on Monday." You call as he walks into the hallway.

"See you Monday." He chimes back as you shut the door and lock it. You press your back again the cool wood and sink to the floor. Cerberus and Hydra both walk over and look at you with knowing eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, you two. It's not going to happen." You tell them.

"It's not going to happen." You repeat, this time as a reminder to yourself. You could let yourself be friends with Bradley. You could even let yourself have a crush on him. But you could never let yourself cross that line.

It's better that way

Taglist: @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @mak-32 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @sometimesanalice @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @djs8891 @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @sunlightmurdock @withahappyrefrain @lt-spork @multifandomlover4life @lewmagoo @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @roosterisdaddy36 @itsdesiree86 @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @asshlyyyy @inkandarsenic @lillyrosenight @tomanybandstolove @jiminie-08 @dingochef

Join my taglist

189 notes · View notes

beauty-and-passion · 2 years ago

Text

Eurovision 2023: more about the true winner because I said so

Hey, guess who is not over Eurovision 2023 yet.

It’s me, I am who.

I have never been so invested and still so obsessed over this year’s Eurovision. I mean, I am always hit by the post-depressive phase of Eurovision, but that lasts a couple days - during which I usually go through all the beautiful moments and listen to all the songs on repeat - then I’m back to my regular schedule of stupidly long analyses and fanfictions.

(By the way, sorry for all the Americans who follow me and have no idea of what I’m talking about or what happened in this year’s Eurovision. Just bear with me, I will come back to posting Sanders Sides stuff. Just not today)

This year... well, this year was truly something. And if the last year and the one before I was like “aww, what beautiful moments, I miss seeing these people having fun”, now it’s all mushed into one ball of feelings. I look at those artists having fun with the eyes of someone who saw how things went down. I look at them celebrating the true winner after the finale and I have this strange mix of nostalgia and heaviness.

I am not mad anymore for the result. Or better: I am and I will always be because 200 people stepped over the will of millions. But what this loss caused is just so fascinating and so unique, I want to keep exploring it - and maybe talking a little bit more about the true winner of Eurovision 2023 will help me process my feelings too.

Or I just will satisfy my need to ramble more about this incredible Finnish man, either way.

______________________

The sheer power of charisma

When you watch the entirety of Käärijä’s journey on this Youtube channel (and I suggest you do it, because it gives you a lot of food for thought), you notice a lot of interesting details.

From the moment he won the national competition and knew he had to go to Eurovision, Käärijä knew his only rival would’ve been Loreen. He said right from the start that it would’ve ended up with a confrontation between Sweden and Finland. He liked other songs and thought they could’ve been good opponents - but it’s pretty clear he knew the only one who could’ve opposed him was Sweden.

And he knew that Loreen was good. Even though I do not like her songs, even I have to admit she has good vocals. Sure, the vocals are the only thing I understand because she mumbles the rest of the song, but the vocals aren’t bad.

Käärijä knew she was the favorite to win. He praised her performance and called her “queen”, so he has been the first one to recognize her as a worthy opponent. He wasn’t so naive to think “I can easily beat her”.

However, he had some tricks up his sleeves. He knew his song was perfect for Eurovision, he basically designed it for that. He knew his performance would’ve got people’s attention. And he knew he had a lot of charisma.

You can say anything you want about him, but you cannot deny this man is charismatic. And this is a lot interesting, because charisma doesn’t have an exact definition and it’s not the same for everyone. And yet, we can all recognize and identify it as “charisma” when we see it.

The definition Wikipedia offers is that charisma is “a personal quality of presence or charm that compels its subjects”. And it’s undeniable that Käärijä has it. He has that genuine, simple honesty we see in childrens only and this activates our protective instincts, because we feel the need to protect him too. He is funny and makes us smile and everyone loves to smile and have fun. He is simple and humble and that makes him look more approachable and friendly than a superstar.

And his presence on stage is very, very good. He’s eye-catching and he knew it very well. He was the flashiest and the most interesting to look at - both because of his clothes and his appearance. Just compare him to the Cyprus guy: I don’t even remember the Cyprus guy’s face, but I doubt I will ever forget that iconic neon green bolero.

And I am sure he knew that very well. He knew the public would’ve loved him. He knew he would’ve gotten a lot of points because of the public. He knew he would’ve connected with them and not with the jury.

And so it was. The numbers are clear: he was and still is the public’s favorite. His result is the second highest in history right after Kalush Orchestra’s. The entire arena sang with him. During the voting portion, they kept calling his name. Everyone called him “winner”. As the Estonian singer Alika told him: “you had the public when they announced Loreen won”.

And by knowing that, I can understand why he was so bummed. He literally had everything: the perfect song, the charisma, public’s support. And I am pretty sure that, if the public gave more points to Loreen, he would’ve accepted his defeat easier.

But it wasn’t like that: he got more points than her in both the semifinal and the final. He has always been the public’s winner, right from the start. And even if he would've gotten the theoretical maximum of public votes from Europe (432), he still would've ended up behind Sweden.

Losing because 222 people gave your opponent an unbeatable lead isn’t something easy to digest. I mean, it’s been days and I haven’t digested it yet! And I am definitely not a singer, nor I did take part in the competition. However, I voted for him and, well, I am quite pissed that my money got wasted because of a stupid unfair system. The EBU should really refund everyone who tried to vote, considering there was no way to defeat the sheer power of the jury.

So, well, the competition ended with the public’s favorite losing the piece of glass. I will get over it, everyone will get over it. Käärijä himself will get over it - now he’s still rightfully sad about it, but as he said, life goes on.

And he will soon realize that losing the competition turned him into something more than a simple winner.

______________________

The birth of a legend

If Käärijä won, he would’ve been just the winner of Eurovision 2023. People would’ve loved him like they love Kalush Orchestra or Maneskin. Everyone would’ve been happy, a little bit of post-Eurovision depression as always and we would’ve forgotten it.

But losing had an even bigger impact, because Käärijä didn’t step down to second place, but over the first place. Being so spectacularly wronged in front of the world made him ascend to the status of legend and the public went crazy for him. Cha Cha Cha reached the top of Spotify's top 50 global, people from all European countries called him “the true winner” and I’ve seen more than one American, who knew nothing about Eurovision, watch his performance and protest for the result as well.

Even Tumblr was affected by this: the tag Eurovision trended for 3 days after its ending and, after it stopped trending, Käärijä kept doing it for days. And he’s still doing it, so good job people, let’s keep the party going on for a little longer: we all deserve it, after all. You know, as a little FUCK YOU to the jury.

What about Youtube? His grand final performance reached ca. 9 mln views in three days and if you check the comment section, is full of people calling him the true winner as well.

Heck, the Eurovision channel made a video specifically about his journey, like the usually do for winners only (in fact, they did one for Loreen. And Käärijä’s video got more views than Loreen’s in one single day).

And all over Europe people are still protesting and asking for the voting system to change. The Norway delegation asked it first and I fully support them, because they are constantly robbed by the jury. I liked Duncan Lawrence’s Arcade in 2019, but KEiiNO was a completely different level. (And if you loved KEiiNO too, please check their Youtube channel because they have made a lot of other songs and OH MY GOSH THEY ARE ALL GREAT)

Käärijä united Europe with his music and his energy and I understand why Finnish people are so proud of him: there are very few artists who are able to connect people so well. And he did it by using his mother tongue, not English! That’s an even bigger win imho, because it proves that if you have a great song, a strong performance and incredible charisma, people will appreciate you and go past the language barrier without any problem.

That’s why humankind loves music, after all: because it doesn’t need to be understood word by word, to reach people’s hearts.

______________________

The hero’s journey

There are many reasons why people fell in love with this funky green man and they all differ: someone loves his bubbly personality, others were touched by his genuinity, others just fell on the ground laughing and who doesn’t love someone that makes you laugh? And yes, there are some who are just horny for him and you are valid too, because he’s a good-looking man.

However, I think that the main reason why so many people got so invested, it’s because he had the perfect hero’s journey.

He already had a story perfect for a movie, even before starting Eurovision: when he was younger, he was diagnosed with colitis ulcerosa and the disease almost took his life (this post has an interview with all details). But because of that experience, he realized life is short and he should’ve pursued what he truly wanted - i.e. singing. I mean, this alone is perfect material for a movie already.

But now he got another story, and it’s even more like a movie: the story of the young man no one knew, who left his city in his small country, to reach the big European stage. A man with a funny spirit, who connected with everyone despite his broken English - and he wonderfully improved it along the way. Just look at how much more confident he became! Truly a masterful example of how we should just talk and make mistakes, in order to get better in another language.

So we followed the adventures of this funny man and of the friends he made along the way. We had fun and cried for the beauty of his friendship with Bojan (he literally called Käärijä “my new brother” and a small part of my heart that was broken got immediately healed). We got involved in his climbing to the top, we saw him face the behemoth that was opposing him and hoped for him to overcome it.

And he got the tragic conclusion of a hero’s journey: a hero who won and yet still lost.

People love this shit. We have always loved the story of the little one against the unbeatable enemy, the nobody who got the recognition he deserves, the kind heart defeated by the corrupt system. Those are all things that touch people and all aspects of the hero’s journey. And people naturally hope for a happy ending, so if we get a sad, bad or unfair one instead, we tend to feel even more empathetic towards the protagonist. And if your protagonist is as lovable as he is, the feeling is 100x stronger.

I really don’t know if the national juries expected this to happen, when they knew who the public’s favourite was and yet decided to award a different artist. But by doing that, they became the perfect enemy to close Käärijä’s journey and build a legend.

So, well, thanks for sucking so much. You built the legend you didn’t want to.

And yes, Käärijä’s enemy IS NOT Loreen. Loreen did her thing, she didn’t bribe the judges to give her votes. The problem is the jury’s power. So, for all the people who are still harrassing her: please stop hating this woman, she just did what other artists did too.

And since we’re talking about her, please stop saying shit like “She shouldn’t have participated!” too, because this is both very stupid (everyone is allowed to participate in Eurovision) and very disrespectful towards Käärijä himself. It’s a bit like saying that sure, he was good, but, like, you know, not enough good.

And this is totally wrong because this man has been able to defeat Loreen twice, both during the semifinal and the final (at least according to the votes that matter). So stop undermining his ability: he is a good artist. Actually, an artist so good only Loreen was able to compete against him.

And if you still think it’s right to hate Loreen for whatever reason, then I would like to bring this to your attention:

The king literally proposed to Loreen. And, considering how accurate was his foresight about the whole competition, I think it’s time we start to think about when it will happen and how many children they will have.

So if you are still harassing her: stop protesting for the piece of glass and ask her when will they get married, instead. We need to know.

Also, wouldn’t that be an even more perfect ending for Käärijä’s hero’s journey? Not only the great evil (aka the jury) will be defeated, but he will marry the only woman strong enough to oppose him. 100/10 I want a movie now.

And yes, I know Käärijä also proposed to Bojan and they are fathers of a baby sea lion. But what’s the problem? Doesn’t Käärijä have two hands? With one hand can hold Bojan, with the other Loreen, duh.

(Then he will probably need another hand for Selena from Austria, because I think she developed a little crush on him but hey, that’s the life of a hero I guess.)

______________________

Have you listened to his other songs yet?

I just want to confirm they are bops and you should listen to them immediately. Also, do not forget his concert on Saturday that will be available worldwide. Let’s show love to the king.

And yes, that means another post will come out. I mean, there are still so many things we need to know! I want to see the photos of that mural people are doing for him in Vantaa, I want to see the music collaboration between him and Bojan, I want to see them visiting little Edgar at the zoo. And I can’t wait to hear about his future European tour, because he has to do one. And maybe that will fully convey him how big his impact has been indeed.

As people told him in the after party, he conquered the world. Now he just needs to see it for himself.

#eurovision #eurovision 2023 #esc #esc 2023 #finland #jere from vantaa will go very far #good job finland #everyone loves you #and you don't even have to spend money to host the show #also you will be forever linked to the legend #just like ukraine #and that's another huge privilege #käärijä

137 notes · View notes

oldiesstationlover11607 · 2 months ago

Note

OMG i just had an idea-

what about tyler x reader where reader is interviewing the boys in honor of their new album !!! the tensionnn, like just imagine EVERYONE notices that theyre totally heart eyes for each other but them and maybe josh pokes some fun at them AH

also!! im the same gal who rec'ed the idea for Cover; you did so good on it!! super excited to read more of your stuff!! :)))

Radio Interview - Tyler Joseph x Reader

Relationship: Tyler Joseph × Reader

Warnings: None - super fluffy

Word Count: 791 - thought this would be perfect for a short blurb type piece so whipped this up in he back of my class lol

A/N: Thanks for enjoying cover! If you're going to be a regular requester I'd love to assign an emoji so I can tell my anons apart. Next time you request just let me know which emoji you'd like to use :)

“Welcome to 47.6 Alt Music Daily! Today, we have Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun from twenty one pilots in the studio to talk about their newest album Vessel! Thanks for coming in, guys,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I glanced down to double-check their mics were on. The studio had been buzzing with energy all day, and I'd spent the morning getting ready, listening to their new album on repeat. The excitement of meeting them was something I was barely able to contain.

“Thanks for having us,” Tyler responded, his voice smooth and perfectly on the mic. Most guests struggled with positioning, but not him—his eyes flicked over to mine, and there was something there. A curiosity I couldn't quite place. His sleeves rode up slightly, revealing fresh tattoos snaking up his arms. I'd been thinking of getting my own for months, and the sight stirred a new wave of nerves I hadn’t expected. I made a mental note to ask him about it later.

I shifted my attention back to my notes. “So, for anyone who doesn’t already know, twenty one pilots is a local Columbus duo who cover a range of genres, including rap, pop, rock, and alternative music.” Tyler nodded as I spoke, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my heart race.

“Sounds about right,” Josh chimed in, breaking the tension with a laugh.

“Okay, so how long have you guys been making music?” I asked, flipping to the next question, though the sudden warmth in my cheeks made it hard to focus.

Tyler looked like he was trying to hold back a smile. “I started when I was 16. Played piano, wrote my first song, and then released a solo album unofficially.”

“Well, I’ve been playing drums since I was about 12,” Josh added. “I’d hang around music stores until closing, playing their kits until I got kicked out.”

“Don’t ask him how many times he’s been kicked out,” Tyler interjected, shooting Josh a teasing look. “He can list every store and the exact date.”

Josh gasped dramatically. “And I’m proud of it!” His grin was infectious, but my eyes were drawn back to Tyler, who was shaking his head with amusement.

I laughed softly, glancing at my notes again. “Okay, so... where does the name ‘twenty one pilots’ come from?” I asked, trying to keep things professional, though my mind kept wandering back to the way Tyler was watching me.

Tyler’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s one of my favorite stories. It’s from a play called All My Sons by Arthur Miller.”

“Oh my god, I remember studying that in high school!” I blurted, my excitement bubbling over. Tyler straightened up in his seat, his gaze locking with mine as I continued, “It’s about a father who ran a company that made parts for World War II planes, and he had to decide whether to send out faulty parts.”

“Right! He chooses to send them out, and twenty one pilots die because of it. His son, who was also a pilot, dies in the war, and though it's never confirmed, his daughter blames the father for her brother's death. The guilt leads him to take his own life,” Tyler finished, his voice soft but intense.

It was like no one else was in the room—just the two of us, connecting over this shared memory.

“So, how does it relate to the music?” I asked, resting my chin on my hand, hanging on his every word.

Tyler leaned forward slightly, his eyes locked on mine. “It’s about those moral crossroads we all face. Choosing between what's easy now but could be disastrous later, or making the tough call that’ll pay off in the long run. It’s something we ask ourselves all the time—what’s our purpose? Why are we making music? Right now, it’s simple: we just want to make people think.”

Josh, who had been silently observing, leaned into his mic with a mischievous smirk. “Or, you know, maybe it’s also to impress someone,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Tyler’s face flushed red as he shot Josh a glare. “That’s not—”

My cheeks burned as Tyler quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh... so, about that next question?” he stammered, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension breaking just enough for me to finally breathe. “Yeah, we’ll move on... for now,” I added, glancing playfully at Josh.

The rest of the interview flowed smoothly, but that undercurrent of something unspoken remained, hanging between Tyler and me. And as the session wrapped up, I found myself wondering if maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t the only one feeling it.

Requests open!

14 notes · View notes

anja-the-sane-panda · 1 year ago

Text

An Over Analysis on Jack's Facial/Body Language in Locked out of Heaven

Note this is all my take on the map and my brain is literally broken so take this all with a fist full of salt.

Also this is SUPER LONG, so I apologize for giving y'all a collage essay on this.

VERSE ONE:

First let's talk about the face where he stares into the player's soul

It's pretty much a poker face which makes sense with his background. He probably perfected it over the years to just keep his mother quiet and not jump on him for not liking her plans. (Too much anyway)

But then he does the first move and his cocky side comes out in a blink of an eye. Like it's almost scary how quick he went from stiff and expressionless to sassy and confident. He's hyping himself up for the performance like how other performers would do quick vocal exercises or doing a quick shake to get their bodies and mind ready. Especially since this takes place after Witch where he looked both depressed

Now the pre-chorus

He is so happy to perform

this entire pre-chorus you see him grow a true smile that just gets bigger until he gets to the top when he goes into his full routine. You can feel his excitement right through the screen. He is ready to give the people what he wants and he is going to love every moment of it Hell he even winks to us. I mean that doesn't add much but I feel the need to point that out for the Jack Rose fans.

Now in the chorus we get to see full Jack Rose, complete with sassiness and confidence. Though we also can see the same smile from the pre-chorus, which makes sense! He is having the time of his life performing and he obviously loves his fans with how he is constantly pointing and smiling at them any chance he gets.

Now the second verse/pre-chorus are pretty much the same as the first except the fact that he seems for focused than cocky when in the room of mirrors (Most likely due to his mother watching him from the reflections) And he seems more excited the closer he gets to the stage.

But now we get to the juicy stuff in the bridge hehehe

Now this part is a little obvious with him pointing to his fans during the "Can I just stay here? Spend the rest of my days here?" He is pleading to whatever deity is listening to just let him stay on that stage with people who actually love him and he loves them back, even if it's just because of his voice/performances he is taking whatever love he can get. That's his heaven, but a certain ✨slaying✨ witch only lets him bask in it for a little while before locking him out it again and again.

K in the final chorus

Small detail I didn't notice the first time but at this part it looks almost like he's reaching for one of the helicopters whilst singing "I've been locked out of heaven" (Yeah this isn't beating my theory that those copters were sent from Night Swan to watch her son during his performance)

Now that Swan tower has lit up behind him and has even taken over the screens in the stage Jack is facing the complete opposite direction, with the most he goes towards it is when he faces the player completely and a few spare glances to the crowd behind him

He knows what's behind him but he doesn't want to think about it. Also at these last few repeats of the chorus he seems to almost be belting it in some spots. Like he's trying to drown himself in the song and stay in the zone forever. But alas, it has to end

That face when his mom waves him off tells us all we need to know. He's used to her actions and distain, but it also stings a lot for him.

Also while it isn't noticeable at first you can actually see him sigh after his hand goes all the way down and he looks at the floor.

In conclusion: Jack needs a hug yesterday and this sets up his reaction to seeing Wanderlust and his fans get turned in majesty. Is he cocky? Yes. But does he love what he does? Well when it comes to performing, yes

thank you all for coming to my Ted Talk, cookies are in the lobby

#Tldr: Mikael's acting in this map is so godamn good #If we get a movie and/or show I need him to stay as Jack #just dance 2023 #jd jack rose #I cannot wait to see where they go with Jack's character #even though I've been spoiled by Instagram about some of it #Gahhhhh

58 notes · View notes

goongiveusnothing · 4 months ago

Note

I was sorta still a fan during the beginning of the last tour and so I was still watching some livestreams and looking at the hsdlot updates. Every day me and my mutuals would get excited to see what he would wear and what’d he’d say during his talking break lol. But as time went on he just kept wearing the same uggo outfits and saying the same shit about “edging” and the “choke her” line plus that ugly stomping dance etc etc the same repetitive things that he knew would get a rise out of the audience. Honestly I think every harrie felt how I felt at that point, nothing was new or exciting anymore and it started feeling pointless to keep watching clips from the shows. By the second year of the tour I honestly had no idea was going on at his concerts and didn’t even know he had new band members much less who they were. He always just finds something that gets the fans excited and does it over and over but what he doesn’t realize is the reason it gets them excited is because it’s a new crumb he feeds them after starving them for so long💀Once you do it too many times the novelty wears off. He’s not gonna be able to get by in this new era of fun and authenticity and he can’t backtrack either because he already made his bed. His peak is so over lol.

this is how i see his fans acting and talking.

notice that nobody even mentions pleasing anymore? i never even see normies on other sites reviewing the brand anymore, that's how far it's fallen. people still review kylie's brands and they're all flops. nobody even knows or cares harry's stuff exists, not even his own fans!

i think fans get caught into a hype cycle where they believe he's incredible, so funny, interesting, talented. they share all the same clips and stories hyping him up. so they want everything about him they can get. when the tour comes out they want all of it. they need all the updates, the livestreams, the stories, the outfits, the angles, the one liners. they want secret easter egg sentences they can decode. they want to see his girlfriends or not see them.

and that's why olivia also helped with his tour, because fans loved to hate watch her there. hating her there was part of their entertainment. reporting she wasn't there was part of the fun.

but when you actually pay attention to him... you realize he's fucking boring! he's not talented! the show does nothing! he's not creative! he gives zero energy! he repeats all the same old jokes! he's not really flirting with men! he's not secretly gay or trans! he does seem to really love israelis! he stays away from palestinians! he does the same old shit again and again! the outfits are all fucking boring! he wears one outfit per night. the same fucking songs over and over. his friend group are all the same scum of the earth people.

so fans start ignoring some livestreams or concerts or stories about him. then it's only a few times a week they check in. then casually. then they're making jokes about him too, pretending it's just fun. then he breaks up with a girl and they lose interest because the girlfriend was part of the interest and you can't even hate on her anymore. then he stops touring and does nothing. absolutely fucking nothing. and you just stop caring and move on entirely and look back at it and be honest with yourself that most of the time you were bored out of your mind, desperate for more, more real talent, presence, activism, engagement. and you don't even miss him anymore.

#harry styles

8 notes · View notes

h-f-k · 3 months ago

Note

Too long or?

my followers right now:

the reason i dislike the song so much it's because it wasn't needed. I understand it was an ongoing internal joke in the swiftie fandom and Taylor releasing it for red tv was fan service but as i said before she should've released it as a poem. The production of the song is horrible and so flat it made flat earthers believe the earth is round.

While it was cool to have more context the way it was given to us ruined the experience in my honest opinion. If you're gonna release the extended version of anything it better have a very good reason to exist, will improve the pace, the storytelling and the overall narrative of the og song/movie/anything? Especially with a song like all too well which is not only a fan favorite across every stage of swiftiesm (whether you're a veteran fan or a new tik tok fan) but also perfect as it is! The 10 minute version had so many stakes and so many expectations to meet and it failed so bad. With how safe taylor bets on some decisions for her music it blows my mind she really decided to extend a song everyone loves and puts it as THE masterpiece of her career, and i know she did it purely to make fans happy which is cute but it's the never ending cycle of making decisions based on what your fans will like and what the charts will look like instead of keeping the artistic value of your craft intact and sometimes that means deprive your fans of this thing they've been asking for years which sucks but it's for the best.

As i also said in my post we get to appreciate halsey's song even more now bc we have added context and we don't know how that sounds like, you can imagine it however you like and sometimes that is the beauty of reading the original draft/poem of a song. and also because again: it creates more stakes, you can't just repeat the same beat or base production (i'm not well versed on specific musical language lol so i apologize) over and over and change it a bit to break up the monotony, this isn't a random mashup you make for funsies in adobe audition at 2am.

the added lyrics are also... a bit wishiwashi in my opinion, there are extremely good and painful verses and then others that made me go (and i'm not joking) "oh my god girl, shut up" mid song.

and also, and i'm gonna make some fans angry with this take but whatever, i just dislike how you can see 30 year old taylor CLEARLY edited stuff. and i'm not talking about editing in a "let's make this song make a bit more sense bc maybe i didn't have the skills back when i was 20" type of way. i'm talking about knowingly adding stuff that you KNOW fans will talk about bc it's something that with time made it to the history books of the swiftie fandom. forced references if you will. like with the 1989 vault tracks... but that's a different discussion lmao.

anyway that's it lol

8 notes · View notes

ruanbaijie · 4 months ago

Text

um ok so i have a backlog of tag games (I love them okay I just take very long to get back to them 🥲) so instead of answering them one by one and spamming everyone's dashboards, I'm gonna smash all of them together to create one HUGE tag game

tagged by @thitiponqs [x] [x] and @asterdust [x]

presenting:

nine albums or songs I've been listening to lately x nine people I’d like to get to know better x tag game with no name

1. why did you choose your url? i mean, look at him. what a bitch (affectionate).

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them. nope this place is a dumping ground

3. how long have you been on tumblr? october 2010 *awkward monkey meme*

4. do you have a queue tag? luQiao - which is the most common question i get 🌚

5. why did you start your blog in the first place? my friends were mentioning it (this was during blogging heyday and everyone was on blogspot) and i was like cool what is it let's check it out and uh i've been here ever since

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp? i wanted to something red + black (my favourite colours) to go with the overall ✨ aesthetic ✨ and xia zhiguang just happened to have this ridiculously out of this world badass modern wuxia-esque photoshoot with a red and black theme so

7. why did you choose your header? because hua chenyu is an AMAZING singer and god it's on my bucket list to attend his concert live

8. what’s your post with the most notes? this rainbow edit for jjk [x]

9. how many mutuals do you have? um so i keep an excel sheet that lists all my mutuals including main blogs (if the mutual blog is a side blog), names, what i tag their posts by, and tracked tags. said list is currently at *checks list* 288 🌚

10. how many followers do you have? 5.4k+

11. how many people do you follow? 455 but i think a lot are inactive 😭

12. have you ever made a shitpost? oh yes this is one example which i did for shl [x] and which got reposted on instagram (ugh) and i made them take it down yes i still remember it

13. how often do you use tumblr each day? too much

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? yeah a whole episode that involved death threats instant report and block

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts people don't have to reblog every single thing but at the same time this is tumblr the reblog place don't just like things all the time without reblogging yknow

16. do you like tag games? YES i can be very long-winded i love them a lot

17. do you like ask games? yes but i get worried that people don't send in anything at all and i'm just talking to myself so i don't do them

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? definitely you @thitiponqs 💕

19. do you have a crush on a mutual? eh no i don't crush on people easily? and i probably need to meet that person in real life before any crushing happens

20. what is the last song you listened to? currently having blaze of clear sky (the insert song of episode 19 of the apothecary diaries) on repeat for DAYS now it's so good and it makes me want to cry

21. what are you currently watching? the apothecary diaries, yatagarasu, dededede, the king's avatar donghua season 3, isekai shikkaku, meet you at the blossom

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy? SWEET

23. what is your current relationship status? single (anyone wanna date lol)

24. what is your current obsession? THE APOTHECARY DIARIES i'm so sorry i'm so late to this game but also STILL NOT OVER the spirealm it still causes me a lot of pain and rips my heart out and stuffs glass shards down my throat on a daily basis

25. what are nine albums/ songs you've been listening to lately?

齐天（华晨宇）- equal to heaven (hua chenyu)

双节棍（华晨宇）- nunchucks (hua chenyu)

斗牛（华晨宇）- bull fighting (hua chenyu)

麒麟（早安）- qilin (zaoan)

星星（早安）- stars (zaoan)

乡下来的（玖壹壹）- from the countryside (nine one one)

abyss (yungblud)

gento (sb19)

blaze of clear sky (takenaka daichi)

26. tagging (no pressure!) @alienwlw @lianhuajing @guzhufuren @miwtual @kolomo

@xiaobaosnoona @naughtynanzhu @mokacheer @alicenthighstower

#sorry this was a lot #it's been a while since my last tag game #tag game

11 notes · View notes

bright-and-burning · 8 months ago

Text

tagged by @landoisokay and @bsaka7 to do my 9 favorite albums (with commentary. i had a lot to say...)

these are all relatively recent because i pick and choose older songs individually more than i listen to them as a single album. like i could pick at least an album’s worth of queen songs, but they’re not all off the same album, ya feel.

in no particular order!! w some explainers below the cut:

dreamland (2020) - glass animals. i almost put how to be a human being but i’ve been listening to that album basically on repeat for the last three weeks so i needed to switch it up. such an experience of an album honestly?? where how to be a human being makes me feel like the main character in an over-saturated murderous movie set in miami, dreamland is like, over-saturated fast car movie set in tokyo (the like. hollywood idea of tokyo, to be clear). forever intertwined with midnight walks through empty cities during covid, driving too fast, the first time i hung out with people after getting to come back to college, neon lights on cinderblock walls and $12 plastic handles of liquor. fundamentally bittersweet as an album imo? but so full of bangers that you forget that it’s . really sad. tokyo drifting with denzel curry was my top song of 2020 and spotify helpfully informed me that i listened to it 30 times on my 19th birthday. lol. the “get loose, streetfighter” with the street fighter sound effect… oh yeah baby that’s art. it’s all so incredibly loud also a song of all time tbh. whole album is floaty and sharp all at once, insane production, the perfect sadness layered underneath, every song building into this brilliant crescendo… perfect album for 2020 eve for like so many reasons, i could wax on about this for AGES so if u want more drop an ask no joke it’ll make my week. still holds up soooo well

lemonade (2016) - beyonce. LOL. this album dropped right around when i was getting cheated on by my gf of. over a year. and then we broke up and i signed the papers to transfer schools the next day without telling anyone. so this album fr got me through uprooting my entire life to start over. (what timing, to get cheated on right as beyonce drops her got-cheated-on album). i knew beyonce belonged on here (too influential musically to me to Not) but i was stumped on what specific album to include (i had 4 on cd in my car in high school, for example, and homecoming: the live album felt like cheating) until i remembered how much play time this one got, and how much i leaned on the album and the visuals then (which. by the way. i bought on itunes bc it wasn’t available for streaming. used precious data bc school wifi wouldn’t let me download it. possibly the last album i bought on itunes??)

save rock and roll (2013) - fall out boy. oh man. 2015 me was on one bc i was a HUGE mcr/fob/atl/p!atd/green day girl but at the Exact same time. a 1d girlie. my shuffle would literally go from mama to up all night. ANYWAYS. was stuck between american beauty/american psycho and save rock and roll, but i think american beauty/american psycho didn’t hold my attention for long and only recently came back on my radar (has some very toxic inspiration won’t lie). the mighty fall ft big sean? life changing. big fan of rappers being dropped into songs that you aren’t expecting them to feature on. “i’m either fuckin or workin so the grind don’t stop” is a work of art. young volcanoes and save rock and roll were legitimately like. the most comforting songs of all time as a sad and lonely 14 year old

when we were friends (2019) - the backseat lovers. starts out so strong and keeps it going. what an album to listen to while absurdly into someone who then starts dating your roommate lol. just like, beautiful stuff. makes me yearn. crazy good to belt out in the car while driving

cleopatra (2016) - the lumineers. feels like home, and being dumb young and in love to me. i’ve been listening to them since ho hey played on our local membership supported radio station when i was . 11?? finally got to see them two summers ago and bawled my eyes out the entire time. this whole album no skips but also like. so overwhelmingly nostalgic and infused with feelings with nowhere to go that i can’t help but want to cry. i learned how to play ophelia on a piano in a basement of a dorm i’ll never see the inside of again lol. patience makes me insane and it’s literally just piano. the lumineers in general make a lot of music that makes me ache for times and places i can’t return to, but this album is pretty peak for it

lungs (deluxe edition) (2009) - florence + the machine. god florence just does not miss does she. dog days are over another local member supported radio station hit. i started listing all the perfect songs off and then had to stop because i was listing the entire track list. floaty and romantic with a heavy edge of morbidity and violence. remember when i said i love when rappers on songs you aren’t expecting? if you listen to anything from this post PLEASE listen to you’ve got the dirtee love ft dizzee rascal from this album. a long ass album that’s good the whole way through, i’ll truly never tire of it

ctrl (2017) - sza. i think SOS might be better and eventually take this slot but i’m trying not to let recency impact this too much. drew barrymore went quintuple platinum in my bedroom in high school. it really was the perfect album for insecure 16 year old me? speaks of growth that listening to this album doesn’t hit me where i live half as much as it used to, that instead of being like damn so real sza to things like . “im sorry im so clingy i dont mean to be a lot... lonely enough to let you treat me like this” im like. damn good song

hozier (expanded edition) (2014) - hozier. take me to church another song that member supported ad-free radio station introduced me to. what a fucking album my GOD. angel of small death and the codeine scene… jackie and wilson was literally like. the love song to me. still is can’t lie. need to be saved and have hands through my hair. every single song has lines that literally make my jaw drop, i feel like i discover something new on every listen through. “free and young and we can feel none of it”… foreigner’s god makes my chest ache. i can’t fucking believe this album is ten years old???

mt joy (2018) - mt joy. another album that reminds me of home; my whole family listened to this for months on end during covid. i’m your wreck is such an opener… “and whatever happens please remember all the laughter” like i’ll cry. my instagram bio is from this song lol. the bit where it shifts into what my family calls shoulder lean mode… anyways. ASTROVAN!!! A SONG ABOUT JESUS SMOKING WEED but like. also an emotional tale of assuring mom how music’ll work out even if they’re broke the whole time. whole album gives me Feelings. this might be the happiest album on this list and it’s. not really that happy. just a very specific kind of like. optimism. we move forward even when we look back. the world fails us but we build it better. idk. like the last song is a break up song, but it’s whole thing is “so if you worry, don’t worry bout me, i always wanted you to see the california coast-line on your own time.” so like yeah, love is burning out, but don’t worry about me. i told u. Feelings.

uhhhh no pressure tagging @mecachrome @freeuselandonorris @monacotrophywife and @oscarpiastriwdc

#tag game

15 notes · View notes

sushisocks · 1 year ago

Note

hi i just finished rdr2, really love your stuff (FINALLY a blog that properly info dumps!! keep them coming please!!). i don't know if this is your thing, but the song I Gave You All by Mumford & Sons makes me think of arthur so much because each lyric corresponds so perfectly to his ending. obviously it's in the song title (arthur's "i gave you all i had"), but the lines "how can you say that your truth is better than ours?" and "you rip out all i had just to say that you've have won" makes me wonder what arthur's last thoughts really were?? the song has a very bitter tone, which is opposite of the game, but i can't actually tell what arthur's last words are supposed to mean, especially with him repeating "i tried...i did." were the "i dids" meant to be a plead for mercy (to remind dutch of his lifelong loyalty in hopes that he's spared from a violent death) or was it meant to be sympathetic (to indicate that they were both doomed men who were only trying their best)? or was it an apology, like "i did all i could, but it wasn't enough"? knowing his level of self esteem/guilt i think arthur would feel a very heavy obligation and responsibility, so it makes sense for him to say "i did all i could, but it still wasn't enough because i was not good enough," but he seemed to be very accepting of his death. sorry if this was rambly/late to the party, i would love to hear your thoughts about it!!!

Oh, Anon, this is the sort of thing I LOVE seeing in my askbox, I am kissing you on the lips rn for giving me the permission to talk about this so lets TALK about it!! (Sorry it took me a minute to get to it, I had to rotate ur questions in my mind for a bit so I could best formulate my thoughts, you know how it is)

First off, I Gave You All by Mumford & Sons is SUCH a good RDR2/Arthur song, I agree hugely on this, and it makes a LOT of sense for the ending notes, especially on a High Honor/Save John run. I've been listening to it on repeat since I saw ur ask, all while typing this up, and I got a lil emotional at times man. I love music recs and while I know some Mumford & Sons songs this was a recontextualization I very much needed in my life thank u <3

The rest of this is LONG so putting in a read more to save my mutuals lol

Okay, so, I now have a LOT of thoughts about what's going through Arthur's mind and what he might've meant at the end of his last mission, so lets get into it. To begin with I want to list out the lines that are said in this scene, so we're all on the same page. (Helpfully and lovingly pulled from the gamescripts wiki blog, which my life has revolved around for the past year and a half)

Dutch van der Linde: It is over now… Arthur. It’s over. Arthur Morgan: Oh, Dutch… he’s a rat. You know it and I know it. Micah Bell: He’s sick… he’s dying… he’s talking crazy. Pinkerton: There! Up there on the ridge! Arthur Morgan: (to Dutch) I gave you all I had… I did. Dutch van der Linde: I… Micah Bell: Come on. Dutch… let’s go, buddy. We made it. We won. Come on. Arthur Morgan: John made it. He’s the only one. Rest of us… no. But… I tried. In the end… I did. Micah Bell: (to Dutch) Come on… let's go. We can make it. Come on, Dutch… come on!

So WHAT is going on here? Surface level, this is the last appeal to Dutch. The last battle of wills between Micah and Arthur, where Arthur is STILL trying to make Dutch see sense. I think it's an important part of Arthur's character to understand that he believes, until the very bitter end, that there's a chance for him to reach through to Dutch. It's the main reason he heads back to camp, after saving Abigail. Milton has told him Micah is the rat, and Arthur believes that if he can just get back to camp and tell Dutch the truth, that will be it. He, erroneously, believes his word alone will be enough.

But the thing is, in my opinion, in a way Arthur is RIGHT! He DOES reach through to Dutch, but he has to die for it. That is what the "I gave you all I had" line is for.

It is Dutch, unsure who to believe. It is Micah, screaming for Dutch to listen to him. And it is Arthur, gently reminding Dutch: I devoted my entire life to you, all that I know has been with you, all that I am has come from you.

Arthur would have gone to the ends of the Earth for Dutch -- he would be grumbling and complaining the entire time, but he'd still do it if Dutch asked. He is, in this moment, telling Dutch, I gave you all I had and you took it, there is nothing left but my death, what reason do I have to lie?

It is the crack in the wall, a small moment of clarity for Dutch, which has him leave them both on that cliff, which has him turn up again 8 years later and kill Micah. Not enough to turn on Micah right away, but enough to truly have Dutch stop and reconsider. Because with those words Arthur is not only speaking on his own behalf, whether or not he knows it. He is reminding Dutch of everyone else who has died for him; Grimshaw, Molly, and Hosea, as the most notable ones, I think. Arthur slots neatly in with those three as people who truly devoted their everything to Dutch, gave him all they had, of life and time and energy, and were served nothing but death, destruction, and heartache in return.

It stuns Dutch; for once he is truly speechless, having to reckon with Arthur's words and what they mean, what they imply. Micah knows Arthur's words are more impactful, and keeps trying to sway him to his side, for ends we can only really guess at. But we already know there's no chance Dutch will go with Micah at this point. But he also wont stay with Arthur.

Then: "John made it. He’s the only one. Rest of us… no. But… I tried. In the end… I did."

One of Arthur's main objectives in Chapter 6 is saving as many people of the gang as possible. The Pinkertons are closing in and, while Arthur believes that it's just bad luck until Milton tells him otherwise, he still hopes for the best outcome possible, for the women and children, as he says.

Which is why he says John made it. Because to Arthur, John's making it, means the women and children making it. It means Abigail, Tilly, Sadie, and Jack, all waiting at Copperhead Landing, are not waiting in vain. It is the reassurance that they will be fine, and the idea that John might finally actually step up and be the father Arthur has so desperately wanted him to be for Jack. To Arthur, John making it is the best outcome.

But he still wanted to save as many people as possible. Dutch, Javier, and Bill included. They were still Arthur's friends and family. They still mattered to him. But I think Arthur realizes, dying upon that cliff, that there's no way out for them anymore. They'll get off this mountain and continue their way of living, and the government will keep hunting them. He is essentially saying the rest of them are just as doomed as Arthur is, even if Arthur is the one currently dying. And he tried.

I want to say that Arthur saying he tried, is both about saving the gang, and about being better. There are SO many interactions you can have in chapter 6 alone that's about being better than you were. Edith Downes, Sister Calderòn, Charles, Rains Fall, and Mary-Beth are just SOME that I can think of, at the top of my head. I think in this moment, Arthur is reaffirming to himself that at the very least he tried. He did everything he could, in the time that he had. He doesn't know if that's enough, or if it means more than what it is, but he tried, and that, to him, HAS to mean something.

It is him accepting that this is the end, and that he doesn't know!! He genuinely doesn't!! If he has done enough to actually change the course of events!! But God do I love the message of Arthur finding peace in having tried. In having done what he could, and seeing what changes he could, and knowing in that last breath, watching that rising sun, that he did make a difference.

Do I think Arthur is angry or bitter when he passes? Not in a High Honor/Save John run, no. I think he is disappointed and sad with Dutch. But I also think he has found a place within himself where he can accept that this is it, for him. And he is hopeful for those whom he has saved, who got out of there and live to see another day.

He gave his all, and he really really tried, and he finds peace in the end. How simultaneously heartbreaking and heartening isn't that?

#mannn now im emotional #i hope this all made sense HAHAH jesus #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #micah bell #rdr2 meta #rdr thoughts #teki talks #bitches be ranting (im bitches)#i LOVED this though my askbox is ALWAYS open for stuff like this #and ALSO music recs if u have songs or playlists for rdr2 or ships or characters pleaseeeeee i love music give me that shit NOW #asks #rdr asks #meta asks

24 notes · View notes

moyazaika · 2 months ago

Note

Work just ended and I decided to get back and see what I missed while I was getting used to my work. I’m doing all of this while my dad, who also speaks and understands English perhaps to a lesser degree than me, is next to me. Sometimes you just need some adrenaline to remind you that you’re alive.

Regarding Indulgence. I think I’ve said it before, but honestly the way you write makes me feel defenseless. You make me want to analyze and pick apart what you’ve written just for the sake of both properly appreciating everything and just… understating. I can’t even express what I’m feeling right now. I feel like Gollum, your writing is the ring.

TWO TONGUES??? IM IN. Been a while since I read something that has a monster, more in the physical sense. “—that i’m not some big. bad. monster.” IM- IM HITTING THE TABLE, IM- “and this time, when he finds you (and he will; for there is no way you can outrun your own shadow)” I’m in love with the way you write. I’m speechless, I want to ask a million questions and just,,,, I don’t feel like what I want to say makes sense. BUT IM KAYDJQJSBQBSNBBQBS

Reading the jaded lawyer reader and the yan crime kingpin. Forget the yan, I don’t know whatever I want to be darling or if I want them. Nevermind, I also want the yan. Love the dynamic. There’s something about the banter that just scratches an itch in my brain, I just love all of this. Keep feeding me this good stuff pretty please. As long as you’re free and wish to do so, of course. Remember to rest properly.

Just finished the extra. I’m obsessed and deeply concerned for darling. Fly high darling, I know you’re not making it out alive. 🕊️ Man’s got nothing to lose, he already has nothing but his life and he doesn’t even seem to care.

By the way, I was once spacing out while working and ended thinking about red because why not. I think you once said that both the yans and red had that certain desesperation that seemed appealing to me, so I began to wonder what exactly made them so interesting to me. I ended getting obsessed with a edit that is unrelated to the point, but it’s was a Taylor’s song and there’s this certain part that reminded me of Red.

“And I love you, it's ruining my life

(I love you, it's ruining my life)

I touched you for only a fortnight

(I touched you) but I touched you”

I love the “But I touched you” part. Because, like, I feel it doesn’t really talk about physical touch. It’s something deeper, at least I felt so and in a clip of the video it seems to show so. The first time I ever came to see Red was in the overly amazing anarchy fic. That story was absolutely amazing I still remember crying at night over it. Anyways, it shows a domestic scene and perhaps that’s what made me crave them. I think that at least to a certain degree, yans win. At least from what I’ve seen and remember, they get darling and end murdering Red or doing whatever to get him away. Red doesn’t win. They seem aware of the fact that they won’t win. Why do they keep trying? What’s so important that they repeat the same mistake over and over again? And you could perhaps say that seems kinda obsessive of them. It’s almost pitiful, but there’s something that I love about tragic characters.

Btw, in the fic with Dean (the one that inspired me to draw Red) there was this other character that was all lovely dovely with Red. At least from what I remember. I’m not proud to say that the first time I read that his name was Freddy (can’t remember if that’s how it was spelled, I don’t care. Man stole my spouse 🫵 /jk) my first thought was Freddy Fazbear. Anyways, if said love was mutual, then Red could be taken out of the equation. I mean, they don’t show romantic interest in darling (I think), so that somehow makes me think that they’re somehow safe in that regard. I love to think about the different implications. And, even if it somehow pains me to see my beloved with someone else /jk, I would be glad to think that they’re somehow safe. Meanwhile darling is crawling into the wolf’s den. Way to go babe, hope you make it out in one piece. 🕊️

So I was writing this in my notes app and forgot to send it. It’s been hours since my shift ended but I didn’t want to edit certain stuff. Now, how are you doing? Have you been eating properly? Drinking enough water? Please remember to take care of yourself, I know you’ll achieve great things and your efforts will be rewarded, but do remember to treat yourself kindly.

- ❤️‍🩹 anon, apologies for sending long paragraphs. I know you said that you wanted to empty your ask inbox and I feel guilty.

NONONO do NOTTT ever apologise for sending an ask i love long asks like this the most and i promise i don’t mind!!! and even tho i am clearing out older ones, interactions like this are like the fuel that keep me writing on tumblr so dON’T APOLOGISEE

i hope works been going well nepo baby LOLOL no but truly it can be so daunting when u know ur working later that day so i’m sure you’re doing great and i’m rooting for ya !! :)

DEFENSELESS!?$)!?!??!$2$& i’m losing my marbles that’s the best compliment you could’ve ever given me nonnie T_T thank u so much,, gOllumAND THE RING NOWOSOSII that’s taking me out 😭😭😭 “my precioussss my preciousss” well then you’re the gold and i’m smaug 😜

i love monsters in the more abstract sense like wdym the monster is just. your own shadow. what. i’m working on something rn where the monster in question is childhood nostalgia or childhood fears and i’m veeeery excited for u to read that !!!!! altho two tongues is always a bonus too in a more physical sense 😝😝

i fully agree with you yan kingpin needs to be put down he’s like a mad dog but lawyer darling helloooo handsome!!!! wdym they’re bossy and no nonsense and never lose a case,,, they’re gonna be winning another case when the court decides to give me a restraining order for how much i love them 🙏🏽😭😭😭 i love darlings colder or more nonchalant than the actual yan it’s so fun 🤲🏽🤲🏽 even tho that means the darling is more attractive to me than the yan HAHHH 😭😭

FREDDY FAZBEAR NOSOSODOSO i actually forgot his name too i haven’t touched that trilogy in so long oops but yeah you’re right in saying red holds no (?) romantic attraction towards reader, but i’m still not sure if that makes them safe. i know i keep teasing u with this amazing backstory they have but trust me one day i’ll write it out and post it and i think you’ll realise all the pieces fitting together :’) but for now, i can only say so much cus i want it to be as satisfying as possible for u when u do read it.

yea thank u for asking lovely!! i’ve been tryna drink 1L a day because i want to cut back on consuming mindless junk food, and i heard it keeps you fuller so hopefully it goes well :p i hope you’re also taking care of yourself <3

#i’ll get to ur other one soon too!!#ring ring #lovely anons #thank u for this i love your asks so much ☹️❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

4 notes · View notes

dirtymartiniquinn · 2 years ago

Text

Alias

part one - part two

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: At the end of part one, you were stuck with a bouquet that had been delivered to your work place with a note attached to it from Joe (or should I say Steven?). Attached to it was his number. Not only that, but he also mentioned hiding a note in the book he gifted you. A lot to digest, that's for sure. Which step are you gonna take next?

CW / disclaimer: rpf (don't read if it's not your jam), fem!reader, fluff, wee bit of sadness gifted in a comfortable blanket (i hope)

Author's note: I genuinely did not expect the love for part one, for which I want to thank you all a lot! I'll save the rest of my ramble for my note at the end. One quick thing though: Irish Tom makes an appearance. If you've got no idea who that is, then you're probably not on Twitter much, because he's a big deal over there. Simply put, it's the nickname that was given to Joe in the green shirt downing a guinness in that one music video. That's all you need to know really :) Enjoy!!

Word count: 16k (almost 17k - oops)

Your hand scrubbed the rag back and forth on the beat of Meghan Trainer’s “Made You Look” that blasted through your speakers. At least, until the stain seemed too stubborn for you to keep a casual pace and you started aggressively picking up the speed, only to slow down when your arm got tired. The song hadn’t been your decision, but rather the random radio station you had put on as you didn’t want to be indecisive about which music to pick for cleaning. While it had been fun that your friend came over for drinks, her spilling red wine over your carpet and you being too drunk to notice until the next morning certainly didn’t feel great. The carpet was a light taupe and you actually loved the feeling of it under your bare feet in the morning, so you weren’t ready to say goodbye to it just yet. Maybe you should ask your mom. Or Deniz. After all, he had been going on non-stop about these cleaning videos that he was totally obsessed with lately. If you were honest with yourself though, you knew you weren’t going to contact Deniz. You avoided him outside of work because of this one question he kept repeating:

“Have you texted him yet?”

And your answer would always be the same.

“No.”

It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to text him. Oh you wanted to. Badly. But what if he had changed his mind?

“Ridiculous,” Deniz had said, when you brought this excuse up for the umpteenth time. “Even if he regretted putting the note in your book, which he doesn’t, I assure you, he still wouldn’t have sent you flowers, Y/N. That wouldn’t make sense. Didn’t you say this guy is very careful with social media and all that stuff? Yet he was willing to risk giving out his number, not knowing you all that well. And he did it twice. This man didn’t make that decision on a whim. Or maybe he did, but it was a very confident first whim. The second time was definitely less of a whim.”

“Stop saying whim, it’s starting to sound weird when I think about it for too long,” you had grumbled, avoiding the subject.

“All I’m saying is if you, of all people, have ruined the cover of your book by opening and closing the book too often, I think the least you can do is text the man responsible for it. Just tell him that you’re mad and move on.”

Through the crack of your open bedroom door you could see the book Joe had given you on your nightstand. A too precious of a place for something you were trying to ignore. The thing was, you didn’t actually want to ignore it. And it was his fault that the cover of the paperback wasn’t sitting snugly on the story anymore but was lifting upwards, slightly bent at the ends. It was infuriating. You always went through a whole ordeal to ensure your books looked as neat as they did when you bought them. But then someone called Joseph had had the audacity to stick a note in between, and you, not wanting to move the note too much, had decided it would be best to just look at it from that position. Which resulted in you opening the book far too often to check if it was all real. Even if you had a very real wilting bouquet of flowers on your dinner table. No amount of proof was ever going to be enough to let it sink into your brain that you hadn’t just gone completely delusional. As much as you had seen Joe, the unapologetically British man, in those two days, you couldn’t shake that he was also still very much Joseph, the actor. You had been standing in front of the mirror, trying to convince yourself that even an actor could want you for who you were. And maybe it was true. But he wasn’t just an actor. He was Joseph, the actor. The unapologetically British man that was stupidly funny, handsome, had the right balance of wit and sarcasm and had a sense of style that made you want to eat your shoes. Everything just fit.

“And on the phone we have Steven—” The radio announced, and you groaned loudly.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you grumbled, getting up to rinse off the rag. The crack in the door was looming, calling for you like an annoying, attention seeking ray of sunshine that would take away all of your vision on a foggy morning. It worked. You gave it attention.

As you took the book in hand, you sat down on the edge of your bed and opened it. The note was still there. You had it pretty much memorized by now. Which was not something that had been on your to do list for the week, but it happened anyway.

Surprise! I doubt I’ll have the guts to ask you any other way before I have to leave, so I’m writing this in the comfort of my hotel room beforehand and hope to find a smart way to give it to you.

If you like, I’d love to take you sightseeing sometime. Let’s discuss details over the phone, yeah? Here’s my number: +44793XXXXXXX

x Joe. Or Steven. Whatever you prefer at this point, really.

A week had already passed by now. Actually, it was a little over a week. If you waited even longer, he was going to think you didn’t want to talk to him. Which frankly was the last thing you wanted to achieve, but the fact that you had already waited more than a week to respond made that a nagging thought regardless. You knew you should just text him already. Get it over with. Whatever happened after was for then to worry about, right? It would be a waste to just… do nothing. That simply wasn’t an option. Your bed was a comfortable place to toss and turn around on with your phone, typing and erasing texts, over and over. Nothing seemed right. Did you have to apologize? Of course you did. You had ignored him and his pretty bouquet for more than a week. That was rude. And you had ignored the note as well, even though you had only found it after receiving the flowers. To him that was over two weeks ago already. Great. Your brain provided you with an endless cycle of worries and reasons why this would end like a shit show.

Hi Joe, it’s Y/N. Sorry for the late response to your card. I loved the flowers a lot. I had indeed not found the note until you mentioned it, so good call! Sightseeing with you sounds lovely. I hope you’re doing alright! x Y/N

You despised the text. Nothing felt right. It was either too forward or too formal. Too cold or too desperate. It would be nice if he could smell your desperation through the text and perceive it as something beautiful. As soon as you hit send, you regret it. But there was also a sense of relief. And a newfound dread. What if it’s not really his number? What if he reads it but has already moved on to someone else he happened to meet at an event and deemed interesting enough? It was horrifying. To keep your body and mind occupied, you did a thorough cleaning of the rest of your apartment before going out and offering the neighbor to walk their dog. It was an elderly woman named Bertie, who always appreciated it whenever you offered to take her poodle Suzie on a long walk. While she was capable of letting Suzie out herself still, long walks were no longer an option for her. And so, you found yourself looking at a manic poodle who was no longer pearly white, but a combination of green and brown from the grass and mud she had been running and rolling around in. Which was fine, as she had an appointment at the dog groomer waiting for her tomorrow anyway.

The amount of times that your phone had left your pocket to sit idly in your hand while you waited for the screen to light up had risen to an incredibly embarrassingly high number. He could be busy. Your time zones were a little off, but not enough to think it would be a highly inconvenient time. At least, if he was in London. Who knew where the man was at, with his busy schedule. Once you realized that you might have texted him at a weird time, your worries only increased. Surely he had enough experience with receiving texts at odd times by now? You groaned in frustration at being able to do nothing else but wait and were met with a funny look from a passerby. As much as you wanted to prolong your stay at the dog park, after a while even hyperactive Suzie had had enough and it was time to go home. On the way back you received a number of messages of which none were from Joe, resulting in you muting a couple of group chats and even a few people that you just didn’t want to let become the cause of one of your mini heart attacks right now.

The evening set and after a lousy dinner, you watched a comfort show on Netflix just to make time go faster. You figured he might give you a hard time and take his sweet time to respond, but you hoped he would spare you the horror. The horror you had so selfishly not spared him in return. Not that he would have been staring at his phone like you were doing right now, surely. Eventually, sleep got the better of you and you dragged your tired mind to bed. You fell into a fairly easy slumber after tiring your mind with overthinking. At least, until your phone started to buzz.

“Fuck me,” Joe mumbled to himself, looking at his phone with squinting eyes, the light being way too bright for his current state. Waking up to have this be the first thing he saw aside from the ceiling was not what he had anticipated for this morning. He read the text over and over, pinching himself as he very much felt like he was still asleep. His heart was steadily picking up the pace. By now he had honestly not expected you to text him. It had been over two weeks after all. One if you hadn’t seen the first note. He’d assumed that you would have texted him sooner if you had been willing to meet up. The text felt a little stand-offish somehow. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but then again he also couldn’t think of another way of forming those sentences to make it less… awkward? His note had been awkward too. Both of them. He groaned tiredly as he put his phone down to rub his face with his hands, only to pick it up to look at it again. At least you had texted him back, right?

Joe had had a pretty rough week. The first one had been pure agony already, but after not hearing from you a second time, he was sure he had misread the signs you apparently had not given him. He was single for a reason. It had been the third day of moping around after sending you the flowers that Andrew, one of his best mates whose apartment he was currently residing at, had told him to suck it up. There was no way in hell this woman didn’t like him, according to his mate.

“You’re the internet boyfriend now, no woman is gonna pass that up even if you looked like a donkey’s arse,” Andrew had told him, “and believe it or not, you don’t look like a donkey’s arse.”

Well wasn’t that lovely to know. Could definitely add that to his CV. It didn’t matter what Andrew said, though. He could care less about being the internet boyfriend or the knowledge that women would throw themselves at him given the chance. He only cared whether you had any interest in doing so, and preferably not in a ‘throwing yourself at him’ kind of way, but rather a ‘I am genuinely interested in you as a person and would love to get to know you better’ kind of way. Dating was a drag as it was, and the addition of becoming this internet sensation had only made it worse. He didn’t trust that the women he went on dates with actually went with him because of his silly one liners, or his music taste, or his knowledge of food. He could usually tell by the glint in their eyes whenever he started to bring his work into the conversation. It was the worst. And the best, because he hadn’t seen that familiar glint in your eyes in the slightest.

His eyes were still glued to his phone when he dragged himself out of the guest room, through the living room and towards the bathroom. What should he text back? He vaguely noticed movement on the couch from the corner of his eye, yet wasn’t alerted by it until he connected the sounds coming from that same direction to a certain leisure activity. His eyes flew up automatically as a high pitched voice shrieked, followed by the distressed voice of Andrew. The latter quickly scrambled to grab a blanket to cover what seemed to be a woman he was hooking up with. In the morning? A quick glance at the scattered clothes on the ground made Joe guess that they hadn’t slept yet.

“Uh— Shit, sorry,” Joe apologized quickly, averting his eyes and making his way to the bathroom a little quicker. He suddenly felt very naked in just his boxer briefs, even though he was the only one in the room wearing any clothes currently. Blankets didn’t count.

“You’re good,” Andrew sighed after he quickly guided the woman to his room and stuck his head outside, “I thought you were supposed to be gone like an hour ago? That event?”

Joe turned around and gaped at him for a good five seconds before looking down at his phone. Fuck. Fuck.

“What got you so distracted?” His mate asked, noting that it was quite out of character for Joe to be late.

“She texted.”

“Y/N?” “Y/N.”

“I told you she would. See? Fussing about and for what?” Andrew grinned, before glancing subtly into his room. “Anyway… I got something to do here.”

“You mean someone,” Joe pointed out dryly. This got a hearty laugh out of Andrew who disappeared into his room and resumed undisturbed this time. Within fifteen minutes, Joe found himself in an uber, which must have been a record. His hair looked a bit wild, but otherwise he was presentable. He took out his phone again, trying to think of what to say, when he got a text from his stylist asking where he was. Perhaps he’d reply later, then.

There had been no time to calmly put together a text to send you. He didn’t want to rush it, not now that you had finally replied. And now it was already evening. Instead of going back to the apartment straight away, he found himself at a rooftop bar with an outlook on the beach where he had had dinner and a drink. Still holding the Guinness in his hand, which he had been surprised to see on the menu at a bar like this, he watched as a flock of birds flew across the horizon where the sun was already setting so low it had taken most of its light away. Looking down at his phone again he shook his head and decided to just call you instead. About ten seconds in of listening to the beeping and absently wondering if the sunset had looked as pretty in London tonight as it did here right now in Los Angeles, he suddenly clasped his hand over his mouth and hung up the call with panicky fingers. Shit shit shit.

As you were from Europe, the time difference could well mean that he had just called you at possibly four in the morning, if not later. Way to make a first ‘distanced’ impression, Joe, he thought meekly. His screen suddenly lit up and in his haste he turned down your call, thinking he had accidentally been pressing things and called you again. He groaned out loud now, his hand finding his face to drag his fingers from his forehead down to his chin, an exasperated sigh following it.

“Right, that’s it,” he mumbled to himself. He was just going to call you again. Fuck up once, fuck up twice, might as well just pay the price.

“Hello?” You asked hesitantly, wondering if he was going to hang up again. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest.

“Uhm, hi! Sorry? Sorry. I didn’t think of the timezones. And then I accidentally hung up on you,” Joe said nervously on the other end. “We could call tomorrow, if— if you want, of course.”

“That sounds like a smart idea,” you agreed with a soft chuckle. “But first I want to say thank you, for the flowers, and the note. I really liked them both. Sorry if my text was, I don’t know, weird.” You winced at your rambling but a subtle laugh from him made up for it instantly.

“A little,” he agreed and you could literally hear him smiling, confirmed by a soft giggle leaving his lips. “It’s always a little awkward, isn’t it? I hope I didn’t push you to respond, with the flowers and all that.”

“Oh, no! Not at all. I was just overthinking it, delaying my response. Sorry about that.”

“No, no, it’s okay. Me too. At first. I kind of nearly called your office but decided against it,” he admitted. You couldn’t help but laugh, thinking of the reaction that would have had in the office. More than a few people had been jealous to hear that it had ended up being Joe instead of David, wanting to know all about it. Melody and Petra in particular. You had kept it professional, leaving out that you had had dinner and met up the day after. Nevertheless, their jealousy was evident. Had either of them picked up the phone… Remembering that you were still on a call you quickly shrugged it off.

“Oh that would have been a disaster, you’d never hear the end of it.”

“Is that so? Why’s that?”

“Some people at the office have the hots for you,” you said casually, earning a surprised hum from the other end.

“Do they now?” A quiet beat. “Have I met them? At the event, by any chance?” The question itself was innocent, his tone of voice however, was not. Was he flirting? A smile crept onto your lips as you tried to remain calm, your heart beating in your chest so loud you were scared he could hear it all the way over wherever he was.

“Not all of them. Do you want me to slip them your number?”

You heard him chuckle softly.

“Nah, I’m good. I recently met someone, kind of wanting to see where things will go with them.”

“Mmh, I see. Well, the offer stands,” you say lightly, although there was obviously no way in hell that you would ever give his number to the likes of them. If he wanted them to have his number, he could send them flowers. “Where are you now anyway?”

“LA. Flying back the day after tomorrow though.”

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were still incredibly tired. Which meant you had to yawn almost every 30 seconds to your own annoyance.

“Oh that’s,” another yawn escaped your mouth, “...nice. Sorry. How is it?”

“Maybe I should let you sleep,” he voiced kindly. “How about I call you again tomorrow? Or text, if you prefer that. I don’t want you to wake up exhausted tomorrow, or, in a few hours I should say.”

“No. It’s still today.” Another yawn. “Tomorrow comes after I really wake up.”

Joe let out a gentle laugh.

“Okay, tomorrow it is.”

“Maybe text first though, just in case.”

“Alright, will do. Well, uhm, good night then, yeah.”

You chuckled softly.

“Goodnight Joe.”

“Night Y/N.”

The next day you spent the majority of your time working on a training you were supposed to give some interns on Friday while trying hard to not check your phone all the time. If he was going to become the reason your hand was chronically glued to your phone, he would have to pay up. You weren’t sure how yet, but you’d think of something. When your phone lit up right as you were making yourself a coffee, you had expected it to be Deniz as you had just sent him some files to check. Working on the weekends wasn’t exactly your favorite and it wasn’t exactly the way things were supposed to go, but you made do. Something had to be done for you to be able to pay the rent. Your heart skipped a beat when it wasn’t Deniz, but Joe.

Hey x

Hope you slept well

You hadn’t, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

Hi x Like a baby. What about you? So… you woke up four times a night, crying for god knows what?

The corners of your mouth turned up into a smile and you found yourself typing back immediately, throwing all texting rules in the wind. He replied fast as well, so why shouldn’t you? Despite your eagerness you still took a sip from your well deserved coffee first.

Something like that! Except I woke up only once, because someone decided to call me in the middle of the night…

What a jerk. Did you tell him to fuck off?

Not exactly… we’re kind of texting.

Hmmm, not sure that’s the best idea… How about you call me instead? I’m fun

You’re fun?

Very

I dare you to prove it.

Not even ten seconds later, Joe called you. Did a silly impression of an actor you had no idea of, but you laughed anyway. It was the way he presented it, the sillyness, the charming giggle at the end. After that, he finally answered your question whether he had slept well, which he had, and he told you about his plans in LA for the upcoming days. You told him about your plans for the week, which were sadly mostly work related. As your conversation progressed, Joe seemed to dilly dally around a subject, which you certainly weren’t going to bring up yourself, but you really hoped he would. Finally, he cleared his throat after expressing his love for this little Italian place he had discovered yesterday. A short silence pursued, almost too long to not comment on it, but then he spoke up.

“So… the note. I was thinking, if you can get time off that is, as it’s a bit short notice, but maybe we could meet up next week? Friday 'till Sunday?”

“Oh, gosh, I’ll have to ask. But where do you want to meet? I know you mentioned sightseeing, but…”

“Amsterdam. I’ll arrange the hotel, separate rooms of course, you just have to get there. We could meet at the airport, go to the hotel together if you like.”

“I’m not sure if I have the budget for all of that,” you admitted hesitantly, already cursing yourself for being honest and possibly ruining the best opportunity in romance you’d ever had. Joseph hummed, sounding like he was taking in your words thoughtfully before responding.

“Oh, if the plane ticket is too expensive I can—“

“No no no, I just meant everything as a whole,” you said quickly.

“All you have to worry about is the plane ticket. The rest is on me.”

“Joe, I can’t… that’s too much.” You didn’t even want to think about what it would cost him, the answer would be the same no matter what: Too much. As much as you wanted to see him, you weren’t the type of person to just blindly accept huge gifts from someone. Not even people you were close to. So for him to offer a weekend getaway on his behalf was a lot to digest.

“Look, I really want to see you again. If the three days are a little much we could just meet up once and leave it at that, treat the rest as a little break from work. No obligations whatsoever. How’s that sound?” he asked you then. You noticed he sounded nervous. Not in an obvious way, rather that he seemed to be holding onto his breath, waiting for your answer.

“Only if you let me pay you back as soon as I can,” you demanded. It went against your principles to accept, but how could you not? This compromise made it a little easier to agree, and after some hesitation Joe went along with it.

“Alright, sure. Why not. Deal.”

“And of course I’d love to spend the majority of those days with you.” You didn’t want to say all, as it could possibly imply something. The fact that you were literally traveling to another country to meet up with a man you honestly barely knew was already enough of a challenge as it was, no matter how charming he was. You couldn’t help but ponder over the weirdness of it all. Wouldn’t normal people text longer instead? Keep it long distance? Then again, maybe he had become so used to traveling that perhaps it didn’t feel like that big of a deal. Or maybe he just wanted to see you as badly as you did him.

“Great! And I mean it, no obligations. If you change your mind after spending a never ending boring Friday with me, you’re free to change plans. Obviously. But I wanted to emphasize it,” he assured you.

“I’ll still have to get the okay from my boss though. There’s a possibility I might have to bring along some work… To get him to say yes.”

Joe understood that it wasn’t always easy to get days off from work which of course was no surprise. With the promise of immediately asking your boss, you eventually hung up. You decided to call your boss instead of text or email him, wanting to get an immediate response. Surprisingly, he agreed to your day off as long as you would do some extra hours the next week and still gave the interns their training on Friday evening. It wasn’t perfect, but certainly better than you had expected it to go. When you told Joe the good news, he was delighted.

That’s brilliant! I’ll find us a nice place to stay. Whenever you have time, can you let me know which flight you want to take? I’ll do my best to find one around the same hour. As for Friday, that’s a bit of a bummer, but it’ll be fine. I’m really excited! x

Up until Friday, you texted throughout the day whenever you could find the time. With your busy schedules and the time difference it wasn’t exactly easy to get quick responses, but you both found yourselves glued to your phones when you realized the other had a moment of free time to chat. You discussed the sightseeing that you wanted to do and decided on at least two that you had previously mentioned. It felt almost criminal how easy it was to talk to him. How normal it felt to be meeting him again in a couple days.

After his unwavering support, you had decided to tell Deniz about it. Not just for that reason, but also because you knew he would be texting you nonstop if you didn’t show up at work without telling him why. You had FaceTimed and his shiteating grin had been impossible to wipe from his face.

“Oh he is down bad, sister,” Deniz purred and you vigorously shook your head in front of your phone, getting a laugh out of your work bestie.

“He is! Paying for a hotel and whatnot? For three days straight, in another country? Come on Y/N. I know you’re a bit oblivious sometimes but you can’t be this oblivious,” he told you.

“As if you wouldn’t be if you were in my shoes!” You protested meekly. “It’s really weird, okay? He’s big.”

When Deniz nearly choked on his water and started to belt a mixture of coughing and laughter, you rolled your eyes.

“I mean as an actor. You know what I meant. Why am I even explaining it to you,” you sighed. Deniz shrugged, a grin still evident on his face.

“Oh I don’t know, getting a rise out of you is fun. So, tomorrow? What time?”

“I’m arriving just past one. He’ll be there a little sooner so if he can make it he’ll wait at my gate. If not, he’s going to text me where else to meet him.”

“I’m so excited for you.”

You smiled, nervous butterflies stealing the show in your stomach.

“So am I.”

FRIDAY Amsterdam 01:25 PM

The suitcase felt too heavy as you hastily made your way down to where you were going to meet Joe. His flight had been slightly delayed, meaning you would be out at around the same time. So instead of waiting at the terminal, he had offered to wait near the exit towards the trains.

You spotted him from a mile away. There was something about the way he stood there, suitcase in hand, standing straight while trying to blend in with everyone else in the area, wearing a black hat and sunglasses on top of them. Oh, Joe. He was wearing a white T-shirt and loose blue jeans, Adidas underneath. It was a nice, casual outfit. His jacket lay discarded on the suitcase. Although you spotted him quickly, it took him having you stand right in front of him to snap out of his daydream. If you could, you would have wanted to replay the way his face lit up upon seeing you over and over again.

“Y/N!” He stepped forward, his luggage forgotten as he pulled you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arm around him and you could smell his perfume as he tucked his chin into the crevice of your neck. It didn’t feel real yet that you were actually seeing him in real life again, but when his scent soared into your nostrils like a memory never forgotten, it sunk in. You answered his beaming smile with one of your own. “How was your flight?” He asked as he pulled back, keeping his hands on your elbows.

“Joe,” you said, greeting him back at last. “It was alright, yours?” He shrugged.

“Apart from the delay, it went pretty smoothly. Did you have lunch yet?” You nodded, suddenly feeling a little shy around him.

“Cat got your tongue?” He asked with a soft smile as you started to walk towards the exit that led to the trains.

“Sorry, no, just a bit nervous.”

“Well that makes two of us,” he smirked, lightly nudging you with his elbow. “I was thinking we could go to Anne Frank’s house after we get settled in our rooms? I assume we need less time for that one than the other stuff so the afternoon should be fine, according to the reviews. Of course, we can also just grab a drink if you’d rather relax today.” His eyes flicked to your face to check your expression, only to remove his gaze again as soon as you looked up. On top of that, his jacket had slipped off his suitcase and with a soft curse word he turned around to pick it up. That man was nervous.

“I think that’s a great idea, the first one. We’ll have time to relax in the evening, won’t we?” You offered kindly, your smile adding to the attempt to relax him even though you weren’t relaxed yourself at all. Somehow it was easier to pretend that you were because he clearly displayed the opposite. It seemed to help, as his shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Yeah, you’re right!” He turned to look at the departure times of the trains, trying to find the right one. “Let’s see…”

“Platform 8, right?” You offered, pointing to the left screen. Joe turned to look at you shortly and smiled before he let you lead him to the ticket station. You had been here several times before after all, it only made sense. The train ride was fairly short, so you decided to stay in the section near the doors where you sat down on tip-up seats instead of getting into a compartment. Due to the noise from the train that’s always louder in these in-between sections, you didn’t really talk. Instead, you gazed out of the small windows from the train door next to you, and Joe was doing the same on the opposite side. Or so you thought. In reality, he was watching you.

Joe didn’t even wait to ask to carry your suitcase up the stairs when you realized the elevator was out of service. Didn’t wait for the other elevator to be cleaned, just hoisted up both your suitcases and started walking up the stairs. All the way up to the fifth floor. Your rooms weren’t next to one another due to unavailability, but they were in the same hallway with only about seven or eight rooms in between. After Joe guided you to your room, he excused himself to freshen up and change into something ‘more appropriate’ whatever that might have meant. In all honesty he didn’t even know the answer to that himself, he just needed to get rid of his sweaty T-shirt. Although it wasn’t exactly necessary, you felt the need to change as well, and swapped your T-shirt for a nice green top with a three quarter sleeve. Since the rest of your outfit was neutral and leaned to a pretty much colorless aesthetic, the pop of green worked delightfully for your overall appearance. You touched up your makeup just slightly, which only consisted of a bit of eyeshadow and mascara. When you looked into the mirror you debated adding more, but the gentle knock on the door stopped you from doing so.

“It’s Joe.” His voice came through the door. You had assumed as much, although nowadays it didn’t hurt to make yourself known just in case. When you opened the door, his eyes only widened slightly before a relaxed smile settled on his lips.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You ready?”

You nodded and quickly walked back to grab your jacket. “I am now.”

Joe had changed into a white button down, rolled up at the sleeves, same jeans, same shoes. Instead of his suitcase, his arm had now taken the role of carrying his jacket. Once you had left the hotel, it turned out that Joe knew exactly where to go and how to get there. Had it all planned out. When you mentioned it, a blush tainted his cheeks. It remained for the rest of the ride, although he did try to pretend that it was hot on the tram as an excuse for the pink shade.

“Just thought it would be nice if we didn’t have to think about all that on the spot,” he had said, and you could only agree.

After a fairly short time of waiting in line in front of the museum, you were allowed in. For the most part, the museum consisted of photos and tiny descriptions about the people that had been part of Anne’s life. It wasn’t a big museum, but it felt like one of those that you just had to have seen at least once in your life. There was a picture wall in Anne Frank’s room, and of course the famous bookcase where they had hidden behind. Joe took it all in quietly, just like you, and occasionally nudged you if he saw something he wanted to share. You went ahead on the small staircase that led to the attic and held out his hand for balance.

“Thank you,” you said softly, not wanting to disturb the people who were lost in their own thoughts. It bothered you a bit that you were at a loss on what to say to him. You had FaceTimed, texted, called, with not all that much awkwardness and now he stood next to you, his brows furrowed as he examined the room in full concentration, his hands behind his back, you had nothing to say. It worried you that he might find you boring, although he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. You just weren’t sure. The gift shop had you occupied for a little while, mostly just to admire all the different products they had based on Anne and her story.

You decided to go for a walk until you found something to get a drink, which resulted in you ending up at The Dam. It was nice to have a familiar sight where you had already been with him. Your eyes fell on a stall where you noticed the famous stroopwafels that you hadn’t had last time. After Joe had left at the bookstore last time, you had settled on getting some store bought ones, which were good but never as nice as the ones they prepared right on the spot.

“Have you ever had fresh, uhm, no idea how to pronounce this but… stroopwafels before?” You asked Joe curiously. He snapped his head towards you, immediately out of his trance that he had gotten into due to a comfortable silence and having lots of things around him to take in.

“I haven’t, is it good?” His eyes flicked over to the stall, following your gaze towards it after you nodded. He watched how a couple took one each and seemed pretty delighted after a bite. He focused on you again and found himself unable to look away from your pretty face. It was obvious you were craving one and you looked rather cute while doing so.

“You want one?”

“Yes, and I’m paying,” you said immediately before his hand could even move an inch towards his wallet. “They sell drinks too, want anything?”

“Y/N, you really don’t have to—”

“Come on, Joe. You’re not gonna win this argument,” you told him with a soft smile. He narrowed his eyes at you for a couple seconds and then caved, seeing that you were determined.

“I would love a coffee, thank you.”

“And a stroopwafel I presume?”

“Uhm— yes! Please.”

Joe scratched the back of his neck as he joined you in the short line in front of the stall and you couldn’t help but smile at his demeanor.

“What is it?” Joe wanted to know, curiosity getting the better of him after spending a couple minutes fidgeting with his sleeve, readjusting it.

“Nothing, just thought you looked cute.” When Joe’s eyes widened just slightly, yours nearly bulged out of their sockets as you scrambled together another response. “I— I mean, just—”

“No, no you're fine! I actually have been wanting to mention that you look really pretty today,” he said bashfully, his hand going back up to his neck to soothe his nerves a little. “Green suits you really well,” he managed to add.

“Oh, thank you, you’re making me shy now,” you mumbled softly, a shy smile on your lips. Joe smiled in return and nudged your side gently.

“Me too.”

“Volgende. Volgende! Oh… tourists. Next! Come on lovebirds, there's a line here.” The lady from the stall looked at you both impatiently and you hurriedly told her your order after you apologized. A few minutes later you had found yourselves a place to sit with a nice view of the performers on the square. Joe groaned in delight as soon as he got through his first bite and looked at you with big eyes.

“This is delicious! So fucking good— Sorry. I’ve got a foul mouth sometimes,” he said, though not really sounding sorry at all.

“Oh come on, no need to pretend like you care,” you smirked. “Swear away. It’s good, right? I can never skip it when I’m here.” Joe grinned and quickly covered his mouth and shrugged as he did before he replied.

“I mean I do care a little bit. Just trying to make a good impression I guess. Well neither will I from here on out, I know that much.”

“You’ve left a great impression already, I doubt you’ll taint it by a bit of swearing Joe.” You meant what you said, how could you not? He had literally gone out of his way to meet you again in the Netherlands to live out the plan you had had in mind for his last day before everything changed. He had sent you flowers. He had sent you sweet good night messages on occasion. There was nothing that he could—

“Thank you, by the way, for this.” He held up the stroopwafel and you smiled warmly as you gave him a nod. The man even showed his gratitude for something small while he had been treating you to so much already.

“It’s my pleasure.”

Yeah. There was nothing that he could do to jeopardize all that. And as of right now, all he had been doing so far was lift your impression of him even higher up the scale.

After having dinner together at the hotel, which was just for convenience, you had to give the training to your interns. None of them seemed very happy having to do that on a Friday evening, but your company did more questionable things like that, which they were sadly used to by now. Joe had given you some privacy and retreated to his own room while you sat in your own with your laptop, background blurred. You tried to keep the training as short as possible which the interns greatly appreciated and you told them to send any lingering questions to your email, as none of them seemed very insistent on keeping the call on any longer than necessary. It was after you shut your laptop down that you noticed you had a text. There was a photo attached to it.

Is your minibar also filled with this stuff?

You smiled and checked out your minibar which indeed showed the same contents as Joe had. Several bottles of wine, gin, tequila and vodka. Considering everything was probably insanely expensive,you quickly closed the minibar just to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally break something.

Yeah, it is!

It took less than fifteen seconds for Joe to respond.

Oh, you’re done? Wanna come over?

To your room?

Yeah

Oh dear. There was no way you were going to say no to that. Before you could even had a chance to overthink on what to respond he added:

Wear something comfortable

While you surely hadn’t intended for Joe to see you in anything but normal clothes, you still found yourself putting on your sports leggings and a T-shirt before heading over to his room. You gently knocked once and could hear his hurried footsteps as he made his way to the door.

“Hey you,” he greeted you with a smile as he stepped aside to let you in. Your rooms were pretty much identical apart from the fact that your armchair was yellow and his was a dark green.

“Hi, sorry it took so long,” you apologized, which in turn made Joe shake his head.

“No need, it’s work. I get that,” he told you while his gaze lingered on you, as if to say of all people, he’d definitely understand. “I was thinking we could maybe watch something. I got us some snacks and drinks from a local supermarket,” he explained as he sat down on the perfectly made up bed.

“I’d love that,” you told him with a smile and you hesitantly sat down on the other side of his bed, watching how he lifted his legs upon which you mirrored after taking your shoes off. He had already propped the pillows up behind himself and quickly reached over to do the same for you before you even had a chance to lean back. With the remote in hand, he started browsing through the hotel’s catalog and pointed out a few options.

“I’ve heard Miracle Workers is fun,” you mentioned after he had scrolled for a bit.

“Sure, let’s watch that.”

After going through the process of renting the first episode, he poured you both some drinks and put the bags of chips and candy in between the two of you.

“How was the work thing?”

“Oh, it was fine. We all wrapped it up as quickly as we could and we’ll deal with the rest on Monday.”

Joe nodded as he had just popped some candy into his mouth and made a funny gesture as he tried to speed up the process.

“That’s good. My god that took forever.”

You felt very aware of his presence next to you as you watched the show and you tried really hard not to be distracted. In a futile attempt to ground yourself you put both of your hands flat on the bed next to you, trying to focus on the soft sheets rather than the Sounds of his dry chuckles that made your heart skip a beat. He seemed completely engrossed in it, as if it was all that was left of his world now. Him and the TV show. You firmly believed he had forgotten about you even being there until you felt a warm hand cover yours and grab it. You didn’t dare to look at him at first, but when you did his eyes were still trained on the screen, his cheeks carrying a pinkish tint to them.

“I think that guy is gonna mess it all up. What’s his name again?”

“Alf…red? Brian? I don’t know.”

Joe snorted. “Yeah those names are absolutely similar too. Anyway, you know who I mean, yeah?”

You nodded and you felt him squeeze your hand for just a second. Just a subtle reminder that he was still in fact aware of your hand in his. It took him about 40 minutes and another rental to start stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. You sat like that for the rest of six or seven episodes, which made grabbing snacks somewhat of a challenge although Joe made sure to hold out one of the bags to you regularly. Occasionally either of you would comment on the show and you’d discuss or laugh about it and everything just felt very natural. Apart from the fact that it all happened in a hotel room, maybe.

“How do you feel about going to the Van Gogh museum tomorrow? It’s the last weekend of the exhibition,” he suggested, his thumb still running slow circles on your hand as he turned his head to look at you.

“Oh, you remembered!” You exclaimed, a tad too loudly for your liking but the grin on his face made up for it.

“I did,” he said almost proudly. “I’ll take that’s a yes then?” You nodded and matched his expression, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yes, of course! It seems to be really beautiful.”

“That’s good, cause… I may already have tickets. Which is good because it was sold out when I checked earlier.” He shrugged casually and you softly shook your head at him.

“You really came prepared, huh?”

Joe smiled bashfully.

“I might have, yes.” He checked his phone for the time and gently let go of your hand.

“Let’s have breakfast at the hotel and then head to the museum. And we’ll just see how the day goes before we make other plans. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” You got up from the bed at the same time he did, feeling slightly mixed on how nothing happened but some hand holding. While you loved that he was taking his time, you just… wouldn’t have minded some making out, you know? At the same time you wouldn’t want to rush anything and if he took whatever you two had going on right now seriously, it was only a good thing. He followed you to the door and the moment you stepped back to get out of his room, he wrapped you in a hug. His scruffy beard tickled your neck a little.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Nine?”

“Nine’s a good time,” you agreed as you wrapped your arms around him. His hand found the back of your head and when he pulled away, you daringly pressed a kiss onto his cheek.

“Well, good night then!” You quickly said as you turned on your heel, making him stumble over his words as he was still recovering from your unexpected kiss on the cheek.

“Y-Yes! Good night Y/N.”

SATURDAY

When you took in each other’s appearance the next day, you realized you both had unconsciously gone for similar outfits, judging by your black from top to bottom turtle neck, jeans and boots, topping it off with a large coat. You later on confessed that you had debated wearing a black beanie to which he had replied that it was getting scary now, as he had been doing the exact same thing. The only difference in your outfits was the color of your coats, as you wore a brown one and he wore an emerald green. No matter how many times you stole a glance, you kept repeating the same thought in your mind over and over.

He looks so hot.

Joe sometimes lost sight of you in the large rooms but always managed to pop up right behind you the moment you realized you had wandered off too far. Sometimes, he’d rest his chin onto your shoulder to read along what the description of a painting said, or just to discuss some details of a painting with you. Right as you entered the hall of the exhibition, you felt lingering eyes on you. It made you want to look around to see where they came from, but then again you didn’t want to alert them to anything.

“I think we’re being watched,” you mentioned softly, wanting to give Joe a heads up so he had time to decide whatever he wanted to do with that information. Joe nodded and took your hand in yours, as if to comfort you.

“I know.” He continued to walk around unbothered, although you could tell he was slowly searching for an escape route. The subtle change in atmosphere almost made you miss out on the wonderful exhibition. Left and right of you, the walls consisted of four large paintings that seemed to move and next to each frame was a door that you could enter. In every room, there was a 3D version of one of the paintings where you could walk around in real time. It was an experience meant to bring Van Gogh’s art to you in a more immersive way.

Only after you entered the door next to the painting of a sunflower field in front of a barn, you realized that the movement you had spotted on the paintings earlier had been people who were walking in this room, essentially bringing the painting to life. You noticed a group of girls now following you more obviously and you pulled Joe along in the sunflower field. It was much bigger and had way more layers to it than you’d expect it to have when looking at the frame displayed on the wall. Just when you wanted to say something, Joe pulled you to the back of the room towards the “barn”, past a large group of tourists. He took you aside, his body hovering closely next to you as he pulled you into a hug, his head buried into your neck which sketched a different view for outsiders to see.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into your neck, his lips grazing your skin by accident. “I thought it would maybe get them to leave before we do if they can’t find us.”

“You think their eyes didn’t follow you like hawks?” You mumbled in return, to which he softly chuckled while his arms relaxed around your waist.

“Fair point,” he mumbled as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Still… ‘s not so bad, is it?”

“You mean this, right now?”

Joe hummed to confirm and you shook your head, relaxing your arms as well. His warm breath tickled your skin and you could feel every nerve in your body focusing on the places where his body touched yours.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed softly, letting your eyes close for a moment to take it all in. His thumbs Never ceased their movement of drawing circles on your back and you soon found yourself copying the movement. After a moment, Joe decided to break the silence.

“Is it just me or has it become quiet in here?” You opened your eyes slowly, your eyes narrowing at the projector light and looked around.

“Everyone’s gone,” you said a little surprised, not expecting to literally be the only ones left. As soon as the words had left your mouth, new people came in.

“I guess the coast is clear,” Joe sighed and he finally let you go, though not before giving your hand a light squeeze. You smiled softly at him and gestured towards the exit.

“Do you want to check out the other rooms?”

“Absolutely.”

This time you spent a little longer in the gift shop and you decided to buy two tiny paintings on an easel with one being a replica of “Starry Night” and another one of “Almond Blossoms”. In turn, Joe had bought his best friend a print of “Head of a skeleton with a burning cigarette”, which he found undoubtedly funny because of their never ending love for nicotine. It was a curse, he had said, but one that brought you unexpected company every now and then. He had no idea you had bought two paintings as you had only shown him one, wanting to give the other one to him later.

The next activity you had gone for was a boat excursion through the canals. You had some time to kill before dinner, which Joe had apparently already reserved a table for as well, so you decided you might as well check out the view by daylight this time. You sat near the window while Joe leaned closely to you whenever he wanted to get a closer look, his arm always on the backrest of the bench you were sitting on. He loved pointing out things to you that often had nothing to do with the sightseeing itself, such as two birds fighting over a piece of bread in the water and a third one flying away with it. Several people in the boat had wondered why he suddenly had belted out laughter and you had to cover your mouth to soften your giggles the moment his ears started to turn a crimson red.

“Oh shut up,” he had mumbled with a smile, giving your shoulder a little nudge as another giggle escaped your lips.

“So which one were you rooting for?” You had then asked him softly to which he had responded:

“The French one.” Which had not made sense at all, and by the time you arrived back at the dock you and Joe had descriptively been dressing up pigeons in your head, with baguettes and barrettes and all kinds of other things.

The restaurant had been fancier than any you’d ever stepped foot in. Five courses, each one more luxurious than the next. He wasn’t up for discussion about the bill and pointed out that you had treated him too earlier, as if the stroopwafel came anywhere near the price range of even one bite of your course. You hadn’t dared to bring up your gift for him in a place like that, as your plan originally had been. Instead, you enjoyed listening to Joe talk about his friends and family back home and you also shared some tidbits about your own.

It didn’t surprise you that you had been holding a breath of relief until the moment you stepped out of the restaurant and Joe gave you a funny look.

“Not your scene?” He asked curiously and you shrugged.

“Just not used to it is all. The food was absolutely amazing though, as was the service. You really picked a good place.” You explained with a kind smile.

“Yeah someone recommended it to me, so I figured it was worth a shot. He usually has good taste. I’m glad you enjoyed it. So… where to next?” His eyes curiously watched your expression, trying to gauge what you wanted and if you’d actually be honest about it.

“Is it weird that I’m feeling a beer?” You asked as you slightly squinted your eyes at him, your eyebrows knitting together. Whatever answer he had expected, it certainly wasn’t this.

“You’re really asking me, Sir Guinness, whether I want to go for a beer?”

“Wait, Sir Guinness?”

Joe quickly shook his head, realizing he said too much. “Ignore that, focus on the other stuff,” he said hastily.

“I do recall overhearing this girl asking you about a music video where you were drinking Guinness last time…” you started, enjoying how his face turned a little desperate at the mention of it.

“You heard nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t “Sir Guinness” that she said, though. I have to admit I tried finding what she was talking about at the time but, no luck…” you smiled slyly at him. “Maybe you could show me?” He shook his head so many times that you lost count, his hand going up to emphasize what he was saying.

“Oh hell no. Nope. Can’t do that. I won’t. I won’t! Out of the question. You can ask me anything but that,” he said resolutely.

“Your audition tape, then.”

“That was quick,” he remarked with a faint smirk.

“I have my priorities. It seems to be a big deal in your fandom still. Are you gatekeeping it?”

“It’s—,” Joseph sighed. “Sort of. I can show you some other time, it’s on my laptop at home.” Then, he blinked a couple times and pulled a funny expression as if he was confused.

“Hold on, how did this conversation start, for me to end up with me promising to show you my audition tape?”

“Beer.”

“Right! Beer. I know a nice Irish pub, do you want to go there?” He offered.

“Sure Sir Guinness, let’s go. Oh! I remembered. She called you Irish Tom.”

“Irish Tom?!”

“Don’t ask me, I haven’t even seen the video.”

“Tom, really? Why don’t I remember this?”

You simply shrugged.

“I believe you misheard them and then they didn’t repeat it because everything happened kinda rushed.”

“Oh, I see,” he replied simply, until a frown dawned on his face. “Wait. Why do you remember this?”

“Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t have anything to do.”

“So you eavesdropped?”

His teasing grin made you automatically follow him as he started to walk towards, you assumed, the Irish pub.

“I overheard.”

“That’s what they all say, don’t they?”

“I don’t know, Joe. Do they? You seem experienced in the matter.”

“Are you accusing me of being a professional eavesdropper? Cause if so—”

“No I was just—”

“— You’d be right.”

A laugh that could have matched one of a Disney villain who was bad at being a villain left his mouth and he leaned back to hook arms with you.

“Come on. This way.”

The pub was crowded in a good way. Meaning that it wasn’t so full of people that you couldn’t get your own table, but it had enough commotion to sit and chat fairly unnoticed unless you brought attention to yourself. You had started out at the bar, going for a tropical beer while Joe immediately went for a Guinness, true to his name. Two drinks later you had managed to snatch a booth for the two of you which gave you plenty of room. Although, Joe had decided he wanted to sit next to you instead of across, which didn’t leave you much room on the bench as he unapologetically spread his legs. At first, you let him. You liked the close proximity and you’d slap yourself in the face at the end of the night if you’d do anything to jeopardize that. But after bumping your knee against the foot of the table a few times after he nudged you, you spoke up. Blame the fact that there were already five beers in your system.

“Joe. Move.”

“What? You need to go to the restroom?”

“No, just move your leg, you’re manspreading as if you’re nine ft. You’re not that tall.”

He opened and closed his mouth a couple times with barely any sound coming out of it until he settled on a sneaky, all knowing smile.

“Did you really sit with that thought, fussing over it for god knows how long?” He wanted to know. You shook your head, which was only a partial deviation of the truth. Most of the time your brain had been occupied by appreciating his full lips, his luscious looks or his incredibly pretty eyes. And the lashes that man had?! Completely unfair.

“I was not,” you replied, trying to remain serious. “Now, if you don’t move…”

Joe seemed to love the sound of that and rested his head on top of his palm with a cheeky grin.

“Then what?”

“Then I’ll claim what’s mine.”

“Ooh,” he feigned to sound intrigued. “Is your name on it?”

You frowned at him.

“On what, the booth?”

Joe shrugged and gestured around, pointing at various objects.

“The booth, the seat, wherever.”

A fake annoyed sigh escaped your lips, but not before he caught your little smile, making him grin even wider.

“No.”

“Then what do you plan to claim?” If he wasn’t so cute with his amused eyes and goofy smile, you would have been annoyed when he gave you another nudge with his knee.

“My rightful space. Half of the bench,” you demanded, your eyes narrowing playfully. Joe’s jaw slacked as he looked at you as if you had said the weirdest thing.

“Half?! I need at least 60%,” Joe protested.

“For what? I need 50. No compromise.”

“Alright, just claim it then, like you said. I’d like to see you try,” he told you with a smirk that gave away that he was enjoying himself far too much. You gave him a glare that was too playful to be taken seriously and he mockingly patted your leg.

“Don’t be upset, love.”

The use of the pet name surprised not only you but him as well, as did the hand that did not seem to want to be removed from your leg. Hesitantly, he let his thumb glide over the fabric of your pants, his eyes no longer teasing as they instead focused on your leg and the way his hand seemed to look just right in that position. Somehow, somewhere in your brain which was going all over the place due to his hand, alcohol, his face and his hand, you managed to notice that his guard was down and you decided to do the first thing that came to mind to claim your place. He looked up at you in surprise when you swung your leg over his, his hand following it as if it had been glued to you and you settled the weight down. Joe seemed too stunned to speak for a moment but automatically leaned back to give you enough room for your leg, though his hand now lay frozen.

“So that’s how you do it,” he commented softly, a smile so genuine it hurt your fragile heart. You nodded, shifting your leg for comfort and took your glass in hand.

“That’s how I do it,” you confirmed with a nod. You gazed at each other for a brief moment until he averted his eyes to grab his glass again, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“You’re so interesting,” he told you as he gazed up at you, a small smile lighting up his face. You reciprocated his smile and then cocked your eyebrow gently.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” The question left your lips so softly it made him lean in to catch the words before he nodded.

“Good. Definitely good.” He finally dared to move his hand again, gently caressing your leg, watching your expression carefully as he did. You quietly took a few sips from your beer before the silence was interrupted by three loud guys, singing what sounded like a birthday song except it was probably in Dutch. They halted in front of your table, telling you both that it was the blonde guy’s birthday, then proceeded to repeat that information in English when they realized you weren’t Dutch, and presented you with a shot of tequila and a slice of lemon. After thanking them, they didn’t wait for you to take the shots and just went onto the next table.

“Well, it would be a waste to leave it,” Joe said, already licking his hand and shaking some salt onto it before holding it out to you. You smirked at his eagerness and copied him, taking one of the shot glasses in hand.

“Cheers!”

You watched as Joe took the slice of lemon into his mouth and only left the peel. Once the burn of the alcohol had subsided, he excused himself for the bathroom and you immediately missed the warmth of his leg beneath yours. When he returned, he didn’t immediately sit back down, but instead invited you along as he wanted to go for a smoke, though not before he ordered you both another drink.

“Do you smoke?” he asked as soon as you stood outside the pub, leaning against the wall closest to the entrance. The light from inside illuminated his face and you wondered if he could ever not look good. Even with a cigarette in hand, a habit you normally quite disliked, you found yourself focussing on his little gestures as he smoked. Taking a drag, holding it, the way his eyes followed the smoke upwards as he exhaled, everything. It was stupidly mesmerizing.

“Y/N?” He glanced at you amusedly as he flicked off some ash and watched you regain your composure.

“I, uhm, no. I don’t.” You had to bite your tongue not to stupidly ask “you?” in an automatic response. You watched as he took another drag, letting it swim around in his lungs before he exhaled up towards the sky.

“Do you mind it?”

“No,” you lied. Or well, in this case, maybe you weren’t lying. You actually really liked what you saw and couldn’t care less that he was paving a black, ashy road inside his lungs. No, that wasn’t true either, you did care for his health.

“Penny for your thoughts?” If you weren’t mistaken, he looked a little concerned. You were certain when he gently took hold of your elbow, cocking his head to the side.

“I’m sorry, I’m just—”

Joe held up a hand, interrupting your apology.

“If I did something to, I don’t know, make you uncomfortable—”

“No no no, not at all! Please don’t mind me,” you quickly saved him from worrying. “Sometimes I just get lost in thought a little.”

Joe’s expression relaxed a little and you felt his thumb gently graze the side of your elbow.

“Pray tell, what was going on in your mind that got you so distracted?” He asked you curiously, his hand dropping again as he leaned against the wall. You calmly took a sip from your beer as you watched him, expression curious, body language open and inviting.

“You,” you say boldly and you watch his expression go from curious to intrigued. Then, a lazy smile appeared on his face.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” He mimicked you from earlier.

“Good. Definitely good,” you returned the favor of not coming up with an original response and his lazy smile turned into a toothy grin before he chuckled. A shiver ran through your body and demanded to be seen.

“Are you cold?”

You weren’t sure. Had it really been the cold that made you shiver or had it just been the raw sound of his chuckle rumbling up his throat? You said yes anyway.

“A little.”

“I’d give you my coat but…” he cocked his head towards the window, as both of you had decided to leave your coats inside. Then, after taking a drag of his cigarette and exhaling it to the side, he took a step closer to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

“I can do this though.”

You allowed yourself to feel the comfort of his embrace as you leaned into his body, sliding your arm around his waist.

“Better?” He asked looking down at you, his eyes widening just a touch when he realized how close your faces were right now. You nodded shyly, cheeks warming up.

“Much better.”

His hand caressed your shoulder as well as your upper arm and once he was done with his cigarette, he rested his cheek against your head and only lifted it to take an occasional sip from his beer.

“I think the pub’s about to close,” Joe mentioned softly as more people started to drift outside, chatting away way too loud for the quiet night among them after being used to raise their voices inside the pub for some time. You chugged the last bit of your beer and nodded towards the door.

“Shall we grab our coats then?”

For the time of the hour that it was, the tram towards your hotel was packed. Judging by the appearances of most people you assumed they were going clubbing somewhere. It was around 2 AM already, but surely in a place like Amsterdam some clubs stayed open until the early hours, making it essentially still ‘early’ to start your party. You didn’t have a seat, so instead you and Joe stood closely together, his arm only hovering behind you in case the tram made a sudden movement. The people around you were so noisy that you both took the time to give your vocal chords a little rest until your stop.

He stepped out of the tram first only so he could extend a hand to you to help you as well. Once you started walking he weaved his fingers through yours and you both let the return of the silence around you sink in as the noise of the tram ebbed away in the distance.

As you stepped in the elevator, your silence continued and was only broken when Joe pressed the button of the fifth floor and the elevator voice announced that the doors were closing. That and the elevator music, which was exactly as you would imagine. Since you were no longer holding hands as Joe had needed both to push open the heavy entrance of the hotel, you stood on opposite sides of the elevator. Joe leaned against the railing and you noticed he was already looking at you when you turned your gaze in his direction. A soft smile played on his lips and he nodded upwards at the speaker.

“Horrible, isn’t it?” He said, his voice sounding a little raw from the need to clear his throat, which he did right after.

“The worst.” You nodded and smiled while you watched him push himself off the railing and take two steps towards you to close the distance. He looked down at you and took your hand in his own, giving it a light squeeze. Just as he was about to say something, the elevator paused its movement.

“Third floor. Doors opening.”

With a startled look he turned around to see a group of five men, very obviously drunk, enter the elevator.

“Is it going down or up?” One of them asked the others. None of them seemed to know the answer and whilst they were discussing it, the elevator doors closed again. They took up lots of space in the elevator and Joe made sure you both had enough room by barricading the corner where you stood with his arms.

“Up. Why’s it going up? Go down!” Another guy said, pressing all the buttons.

“Idiot, now it’s just gonna go to every floor, this is gonna take ages.” A third one sighed. They barely took notice of you and Joe, who raised a subtle eyebrow at you and smiled reassuringly as you looked a little uncomfortable. When the elevator stopped on the fourth floor one of them looked at you expectantly and you gave him a thin lipped smile as you shook your head. Before it stopped on the fifth, Joe had already grabbed your hand again and guided you along the side of the elevator to the front while being faced with some drunken commentary that neither of you paid much attention to. After quickly exiting the elevator and taking a right turn you halted at the parting, your room being on the left side and his on the right and a sigh escaped his lips when he heard the elevator doors close again.

“That was something,” he mumbled.

“I think they’re gonna go up all the way to the fifteenth floor now, unless they realize they might as well hop onto the other elevator instead,” you remarked and Joe nodded.

“Maybe the guy who pushed all the buttons simply didn’t want the night to end yet,” he said softly, implying that this thought didn’t just come up out of nowhere.

“Who knows,” you responded feebly, suddenly feeling a little shy. Joe seemed to match your shyness and smiled bashfully.

“Well then. I guess, good night? Or should I say good morning?”

“Don’t,” you groaned. “It’s still today, remember?”

“I know,” he agreed with a soft smile, “just like teasing you is all.” He pulled you into a tight hug that seemed to last longer than the one he gave you last night, but maybe your sense of time was just a little twisted. Nevertheless, it felt nice. Which was why it was a shame when he pulled back, his eyes taking in yours and then looking away and down at his hands as he released you from his grip.

“See you tomorrow. Shall I come by your room when I’m awake?” He suggested.

“Yeah, I’ll do the same if I happen to be awake sooner.”

“I’ll text first, to check,” he added with a smirk.

“Okay,” you nodded, smiling sweetly at him.

“Okay, yeah. Good night then, y/n.”

“Good night Joe.”

He gave you a last, breathtaking smile before you both turned around and walked to your rooms. You could hear a door being opened and closed and you were sure it was his. Something inside you wanted to go to his room, tell him you also didn’t want the night to end yet, but instead you found yourself holding the card in front of the reader to unlock your door and you stepped inside.

However, before you could turn around to make sure the door was closed, you felt two hands grabbing your waist and you shrieked. Quickly you turned around, your eyes frantically searching for the perpetrator, only to find a sweet, familiar face full of worry.

“Oh god, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was really just thinking that I didn’t want to regret holding back another time so I’m gonna kiss you right now if— if that’s okay,” Joe told you in one breath.

“I— what did you just say?” you stammered as your heart was still racing from being grabbed so suddenly. He had said it so quickly that your brain was still catching up. Joe licked his lips nervously and a pink shade colored his cheeks as he let one hand slip off your waist to run it through his hair.

“I was just overthinking things, a lot, about if I should just go for it and uh—” he grabbed his chin, his thumb and index finger following the scruff of his beard as his thoughts rushed in all at once, making it unable to make sense of them.

Watching him being so nervous, the realization of what he had said just now finally dawned on you. He wanted to—

“Kiss me,” you blurted out, cheeks growing warmer.

“Oh— okay, yeah.” His eyes darted to yours, not knowing which eye to focus on because both looked so pretty and he wanted to take in all of you and not just one thing. He lightly shook his head to come back to his senses and finally found the courage to do what he had wanted to do since the day he left you in front of the bookshop. His hand cupped your cheek ever so gently, a soft but shy smile on his lips as he leaned in closer. You met him halfway and pressed your lips against his, an appreciative hum softly leaving his lips. When he felt you leaning back his hand found the back of your head, keeping you in place as he teased his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for access. Simultaneously as you opened your mouth to deepen the kiss, he pulled you closer by your waist. Your hand reached up to smooth your fingers through his curls, something you had been craving to do all weekend.

You had totally forgotten about the fact that you were still very much standing inside your doorway for everyone to see and when someone suddenly shrieked, Joe panicked and rushed you inside. The romantic moment had gone, although you could still taste it blissfully on your lips. A combination of mint and cigarettes and something else that was just him. His hand lingered on your waist as he stared at the door, thinking of all possible repercussions this action might have.

“Do you think they saw?” He asked you, his eyes darting from the door, to you and back. You shrugged and glanced at him empathetically.

“I couldn’t tell if they made that sound because of us, you, or if it might have been something else.”

“Fuck me,” Joe groaned, his hand coming up to his face. You nudged him gently with your hip and smiled softly.

“Not so fast casanova,” you joked. He looked at you, his expression softening upon the realization that you weren’t as freaked out as he was. “And I don’t think you have to worry. Even if they saw us, I doubt they had enough time to get any evidence anyway. It will be fine,” you reassured him.

“They might be waiting for the moment I, or we, for all they know, get out of this room though,” he mumbled. His gaze was directed at the door again, wishing he could see through it to know if the coast was clear.

“Then stay, if that makes you more comfortable.”

Joe quickly turned his head towards you in surprise and then presented you with a cocky grin.

“I thought you said “not so fast”, love,” he teased as his grin grew wider. You gave him a light push against his chest and laughter escaped his mouth, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “I’m joking,” he then added in a more serious tone while he took your hand in his. He looked over at the double bed.

“You really wouldn’t mind?” His thumb brushed over the top of your hand lightly as he carefully watched your expression.

“No. I did mean what I said though,” you warned him gently.

“I know you did,” he responded with a soft smile, leaning in just slightly to plant a kiss on your forehead. “Same goes for me.”

Joe was grateful for your spare toothbrush and stayed out of your way as you changed into a T-shirt and leggings to sleep in. You realized with dread that he was about to see you without any makeup on and while you hadn’t been wearing a lot, it still scared you a little. Joe had taken it upon himself to get under the covers on the side of the empty nightstand and was scrolling through his phone when you joined him after getting ready for bed in the bathroom. His expression made you suspect that he was looking for anything troublesome on social media, which he confirmed as soon as you slipped under the covers.

“Can’t find anything yet, so I guess we might be in luck. Nothing on the museum stuff either.”

“Oh! I’m an idiot. Jeez, hold on.” You lifted the covers to slip out of the bed again and searched in one of your bags.

“What… Why did this suddenly trigger a response like that?” Joe asked, confused as he watched you. When you turned around holding something tiny, he squinted trying to see what you were holding and you smirked.

“Here,” you said, presenting it up close. “For you.”

“For me…? Why?” His mouth still stood agape in surprise when he took the tiny canvas of the “Starry Night” replica in hand and inspected it closely.

“You said it was your favorite, so…” You shrugged, hoping you didn’t just give him a corny gift in comparison to all that he had already given you.

“I love it. I absolutely love it. Thank you so much, that’s so kind of you.” He wrapped you in a slightly awkward hug, with you hovering over the side of the bed a little as you had been standing a little too far away for it to be comfortable.

“You really like it?” You asked softly as he carefully put it on his nightstand and he turned his head to look at you in surprise.

“Of course! Why do you sound so doubtful?” He asked curiously as his gaze followed you back into bed. You got comfortable first, turning off the big light leaving only the ledstrip above the headboard of the bed on and then laid down on your side.

“I don’t know, I just don’t know how to make up for all that you did,” you confessed, feeling a little silly about it. Joe matched your position and carefully lifted a hand towards your face to brush away a stray strand of hair.

“You’re already doing plenty by just being here with me. I want you to know that. And I really appreciate the kind gestures but don’t feel like you have to catch up or something. That’s not why I invited you to this… I don’t know, three-day-date?” A snort escaped his lips and his shoulders shook a little as he laughed. “I just really, really like spending time with you. And kissing you isn’t half bad either,” he grinned as you feigned indignance until you giggled and then suddenly his lips were on yours again and your silly banter was drowned out by a shuffling of sheets and soft sounds escaping the both of you.

How you both were able to show restraint to not let making out turn into something more was a mystery to you both. However once he settled on his back, one arm around you as your head rested on his naked chest, you knew exactly why. No words were needed to express how you felt in that moment, as it just felt right. You weren’t in a rush. When you both became too tired to really hold a conversation, which was probably around the time that even the clubs in Amsterdam were closing, Joe gave you a sweet good night kiss. After that, his hand gently nudged you to roll on your side so he could be the big spoon and he wrapped his arm comfortably around your waist. You turned your head towards him to steal another kiss and with a soft smile on his lips, he kissed your shoulder before burying his face into your neck. It turned into the first night of great sleep you both had had in a long time.

As blissful as the night had ended, all the more dreadful became the morning when it dawned on you that this was your last day together. Joe was no longer spooning you, but instead your leg was hoisted over his waist, hand curled up in his neck. You would have assumed he was still asleep by his slow breathing, but the hand caressing your thigh gave away the opposite. Instead of looking up, you uncurled your hand and brushed your fingers along his neck and played with the ends of his hair.

“Morning,” he whispered, his voice sounding a little raspy. “Sleep well?”

“Until I woke up, yes,” you mumbled, the sadness of your realization squeezing your chest tightly. Blissfully unaware, Joe chuckled and his hand came up to caress your cheek.

“Isn’t that usually when sleep ends?” He asked jokingly, his hand dropping to your arm. When you didn’t reply right away, he gently squeezed your arm. “Hm?”

“I just don’t want today to end,” you mumbled, sounding smaller and more fragile than you wanted to. Joe sighed and wrapped his arms around you for a tight hug and kissed your forehead.

“Me neither. But we have,” he picked up his watch to check the time and frowned slightly, clearly not happy with the news he was about to bring, “two hours left.”

“Two hours?!” You sat up immediately and Joe’s arms slacked off your body.

“And then some, at the airport. But two hours before we have to leave yeah,” Joe said apologetically, taking your hand in his and tugging on it lightly. You felt a lump growing in your throat and his beautiful brown eyes looking up at you with compassion only made it worse.

“Come cuddle?” Joe tugged on your hand again and you relented, resuming your old position. He pulled the covers back up and lifted your chin so he could look at you. Your eyes met his and a moment of silence was shared between the two of you before Joe captured your lips in a gentle kiss. He leaned back again to look at you once more, his hand cupping your cheek and you could see his eyes shift back and forth between your own.

“You’re so beautiful.”

His soft spoken words sounded so sincere that any retort of denial died on your lips. You licked your lips and tried to find a response in your mind but his eyes and the light touch of his thumb caressing your cheekbone distracted you.

“So are you,” you eventually told him softly, causing him to smile and shake his head a little in disbelief.

“Don’t know about that,” he smirked, to which he was met with a stern look on your face and his expression immediately turned into looking caught while doing something bad.

“Don’t do that,” you told him, “you’re very handsome.”

“God, stop it,” he chuckled as he hid his face behind his hand.

“You started it,” you pointed out dryly, tearing his hand away from his face. Joe was slightly red in the face and he groaned as his face got revealed.

“Not so you could say it back!” He protested, more laughter escaping his lips when you started a back and forth fussing around with your hands. At some point he had you flat on your back, hands pressed into the mattress by his own on either side of your head.

His eyes darkened slightly as he leaned in, his lips almost touching yours when—

“Housekeeping!” A loud knock on the door followed by a rattling sound made you both jump up and scramble away from the bed. You urged Joe to hide in the bathroom and opened the door to find a small, blonde haired woman in front of you.

“I’m so sorry, I haven’t packed all my stuff yet. I’ll be out as soon as I can,” you promised quickly, not knowing what Joe had booked precisely but assuming you were both supposed to have checked out already. The woman assured you it was fine as long as you were out within half an hour. As soon as the door closed, Joe stuck his head out the door.

“I completely forgot about that, I’m such an idiot,” he sighed, looking for his clothes to put on while you got your suitcase out.

“I should’ve thought of it as well honestly… Maybe you can use your charm on one of the clerks though?”

“My charm? Doubt it.”

“You, Mr. Quinn, are very charming.”

“And you,” he said while pointing at you with his shoe, “should remember that you just lost that battle earlier and will lose again.” You shared some gentle laughter with him until he suddenly got distracted by needing to grab your gift and holding it close so he wouldn’t forget it.

Your clothes were tossed in a somewhat folded stack into your suitcase apart from what you were planning to wear, and you were relieved that you had plenty of room left in your suitcase for once because you didn’t want to waste time properly packing it all up.

“Alright, I’m gonna head to my room and pack real quick. Meet you in the lobby?” He offered, stepping closer to steal a quick kiss from your lips that immediately threatened to turn into a longer one. When his hands started to roam over your back you reluctantly stopped him, as twenty minutes since the lady left had already passed and you still had to get dressed.

“See you at the lobby,” you nodded. As soon as the door clicked shut you quickly got ready, putting on simple blue jeans with sneakers and a light gray sweater after you freshened up in the bathroom and lastly added the tiniest bit of makeup. With two minutes on the clock you met up with Joe at the lobby and he looked pleasantly impressed with what you had managed to do in such a short time. He looked more disheveled than you did and you assumed that’s why he was wearing a black beanie on top of his head. His black shirt was tucked into his jeans and he was wearing his boots again.

“All good,” he told you, nodding at the clerks behind the desk. “Turns out a photo with Eddie Munson can be used as leverage sometimes,” he mumbled underneath his breath.

“See? I told you,” you told him proudly and he rolled his eyes, nudging you with his elbow.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, alright. So… should we drop our stuff here and grab a bite, chill at The Dam for a bit until it’s time?”

“Sounds lovely.”

Wanting as much ‘alone’ time as you could have, you went for a sandwich and a drink from a food stall, finishing up with another stroopwafel on The Dam as a treat. You sat down on a bench together where you had the perfect view of someone painting caricatures of tourists who sat down with them.

“Next time we’re gonna get one of those. As soon as we see one,” Joe told you as he gave a nod towards the painter.

“Ooh, there’s gonna be a next time?” You teased, to which he gave you an unimpressed look.

“There’d better be. Doesn’t have to be Amsterdam though. Lots of caricature painters all around the world.” He slung his arm loosely around your waist, stroking your side.

“You seem to have big plans,” you said with a smile.

“Well, yeah. I wanna make this work.” Joe turned his head to look at you and you could tell he was serious.

“Do you think it will work, though? With me being from Y/B/P and you basically being everywhere and nowhere all the time?” It wasn’t something that you wanted to ask. The last thing you desired was putting doubts into his mind. But you had to know for your own sanity how he viewed that part of your lives and possibly, futures together.

“It will have to, won’t it?” Joe shrugged. “In case it’s not obvious yet, I really like you. And it fills me with dread that I can’t just hop onto the tube to see you but that’s just how it is. I fully intend to see you in person as often as I can, though. I… We’ll make it work,” he promised, not only to you but to himself as well. You rested your head onto his shoulder and he followed your gesture by resting his cheek on the top of your head.

“We will,” you softly agreed. Silence. For some time, neither of you spoke, until you did.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, Y/N. So much.”

All of your willpower was required not to cry at that moment. Instead, you hugged him tight and he lifted your chin to plant a soft kiss onto your lips.

“Are you not worried anyone will see?”

“Did some thinking last night,” Joe shrugged. “Figured to hell with it.”

You chuckled and put your hand on his cheek to make him look at you.

“I’d like another kiss then,” you said sweetly. Joe smiled and leaned in so close your lips were almost touching but without kissing you.

“You’d like one, hm? But are you getting one?”

“Don’t test me Joseph.”

Joe smirked and kissed you sweetly.

“I kinda like it when you call me Joseph. Though I’m not sure if it’s because of you saying it, or if it was the fact that you looked annoyed with me.”

“I’m sure you’ll find out at some point,” you assured him with a grin.

“You’re not even gonna repeat it for me while looking happy with me?” He pouted for extra dramatics and when you shook your head he heaved a deep sigh.

“Well then—” The alarm on his phone signaling that it was time to get your stuff interrupted him, and the next sigh that left him was a real one.

“Time to go love.”

With the little time you had left at the airport, you decided to stroll around a bit until you were expected at the gate. Joe had gone for a quick bathroom break and came back with what seemed to be a notebook and a pen.

“Need something to do on the plane?” You asked curiously. When he shook his head and sat down next to you, handing you the notebook and pen, you frowned.

“We’re gonna make a list,” he started, “of things we’re gonna do when we meet again next time. First up: caricature. I assume you have better handwriting than I do.”

You smiled, thinking back on the note he had written and decided that yes, you probably did indeed. After writing it down, you looked up at him.

“Alright. What’s next?”

“Go to a zoo? Or an aquarium,” he suggested. “Cook together.”

You wrote it all down with a smile on your lips.

“You’re full of ideas,” you mentioned. “I think you should take it for when something comes to mind.” Joe immediately shook his head and nodded down at the book.

“We need your handwriting, otherwise we’re gonna wonder what the fuck we’re supposed to be doing. I’ll text you if I think of something.”

A few more things were added to the list and then Joe decided it was time to put it in your bag so he could hold you for a little while. At one point you softly giggled to yourself, gaining Joe’s curiosity.

“What’s up?”

“I was just considering whether your freaking out last night was just a subtle ploy to get into my bed,” you said jokingly. He put his hands on your shoulders to make you lean back so he could look at you, mouth agape in shock.

“How dare you? I’m much smoother than using a silly excuse like that!”

“Are you now?”

“I’ll prove it to you next time.”

“Doesn’t really count, does it? It already happened.”

“Maybe. And maybe there’s something else that hasn’t happened yet that we need a bed for. Or well, not necessarily but, you know, for comfort—”

“Joe. You can just tell me you want a massage.”

He laughed a little louder than even he expected to do and gave your chest a light push with his fingers.

“How’d you guess? My back’s been sore from carrying these conversations…”

“Now you’re treading on a dangerous path.”

Your banter got interrupted by an announcement that you had to go to the gate and his shoulders visibly slumped. Every step you took towards your gate felt heavy and you used up as much time as you could to get there, holding Joe’s hand the whole time. He sensed that you were getting emotional and did his best to comfort you with the caress of his thumb until you finally halted in front of the gate.

“Alright. We’re not gonna be sad, because I need to see your pretty smile before I go, okay? And we will call as soon as we’re both able to. It’s only temporary,” he promised as he cupped your face with his hands to kiss you softly. It was hard not to demand more of this little moment, but you had no choice.

“It’s only temporary,” you repeated with a nod, biting down on your lip when you felt it threatening to wobble. Joe nodded and wrapped you in a tight hug, his arm around your waist and his hand on the back of your head.

“I’ll see you soon.” Another promise fell from his lips as he rubbed your back.

You stole one last kiss from his lips, touching his face with both hands before running your hand through his hair and squeezing him tight, and then it was time to let go. You turned around before you would change your mind and felt him reach for your arm for a quick last squeeze. You knew you’d burst into tears if you looked back, so you didn’t, but your resolve to give your tear ducts a break crumbled as soon as you sat down in your seat at the window. Needing him more than ever, you opened your phone to text him only to find that he had already texted you. There was a photo attached of himself sitting at his own gate with a playful, sad expression on his face. You could tell by his eyes that he was only adding the playfulness because he was actually really sad.

Joe: Miss you already x

You: I’d send a selfie back but you don’t want to see this right now

Joe: Aw, that bad?

You: Literally rivers. They had to mop the floor three times already

Joe: Wow. Next time you do that, we should fill up a pool or something.

You: Sounds like a lot of work. How often do you intend to make me cry?

Joe: Lots. But only because I’m super funny

You: We’ll see about that

Joe: Yeah. Soon. Very soon x

You: I have to turn off my phone now

Joe: Don’t flirt with strangers

You: Can I flirt with people I know?

Joe: No

You: You can’t either

Joe: Wouldn’t dream of it. Although…

You: ?

Joe: With Jamie I can’t really help it. I mean… have you seen Jamie?

You: Fine, he gets a pass. Really gotta go now :(

Joe: Ok. Talk to you soon love x

You: Have a safe flight x

Joe: You too x

Joe: Another thing for the book. We didn’t take any photos together, it’s a crime. Joe: BTW. What is your opinion on shitty weather?

FIN

Author's note: This fic got out of haaaand. Literally twice the size than part 2 simply because no ending felt right. I know this may feel a little sad, but I hope you all enjoyed your fun times together. I couldn’t just randomly end it and well, airplane goodbyes suck. Hopefully the texting at the end lightened the mood a bit. Thank you so much for the love on part 1, I hope I did part 2 justice and that you’re not throwing tomatoes through the screen right now :) Lots of love x

Dirty Martini taglist:

@thefemininemystiquee - @peaches-and-plums-motherfucker - @cup-half-full-of-anxiety - @emmysuebull22 - add yourself

#joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn #joe quinn #fanfiction #rpf #dirtymartini writes

71 notes · View notes