#look at me judging my music choices

[ocdhuacheng]

Forgot i had my windows open while waiting in the parking lot before my dr appt. This is relevant bc I was blasting the red army choir.

[bisexualiteaa]

Give me this dance

Alternate Silco x fem reader (fluff and smut!)

MDNI!!

Synopsis: In every timeline, you were a part of his life. Right there by his side to bring him outside of his comfort zone and show him some fun. Soon, what started as a mere dance turned into a night neither of you would forget.

Songs for inspo/to listen to while reading:

CW: slight season 2 spoilers! Established friendship, mutual pining, mutual feelings, unrequited feelings, reader is AFAB, reader is a bartender at the last drop, reader has hair, alternate Silco, softer/happier Silco, brief mentions of alcohol, fluff w/ smut, cursing, fïngering, 0ral (fem recieving), nïpple pläy, unprotected seggs, p0rn w/ feelings, rïding, cream 🥧, fluffy ending, proofread, potential spelling/grammar errors, slight OOC Silco, no use of y/n

AN: The way he looked so happy in this timeline, he looks so happy and even more handsome somehow it’s CRAZY!! 😭 Had this one in the works for a while now but it’s finally done! I hope you all enjoy! 🥹♥️

You smiled happily as you were finally able to find your way out from behind the bar, a momentary reprieve from the hustle and bustle, the demand of drink orders that had been steadily building all night. “Come dance with me! I love this song” you remarked to Silco, making his eyes widen with something akin to a look of fear. He was a horrible dancer, and the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in front of you of all people. He looked to Vander for any bit of advice or help he could give, only earning a grin from the man in response, telling him he was on his own for this one. “I-I’m not very good at dancing I…” Silco tried to explain, stuttering terribly as your hand grabbed his upper arm, causing a blush to trickle across his face and his heart to race in his chest out of nervousness. He didn’t want to turn you down, but he didn’t want to embarrass himself in a bar full of people either. Or embarrass you, for that matter, with being such a terrible dance partner. “Me either, it’s okay! Promise I won’t judge” you reassured with a smile, the faint smell of liquor and mixers entangling with your perfume, creating a smell that was so comforting, so familiar. It was so you and so incredibly intoxicating. “C’mon, let’s have some fun! Dance with me” you tried to persuade him sweetly, gorgeous eyes looking up at him so excitedly, almost twinkling in the warm glow of the lanterns that hung around the bar. How could he possibly say no when you looked at him like that? “What’s the harm? Doubt anyone will even be lookin’” Vander jutted in, cleaning a glass as he spoke and took your side on this, hoping that maybe if Silco danced with you, he would finally tell you how he feels, possibly ending the constant back and forth cycle of mutual pining between you two for good. He was two to one now, leaving him no other choice but to relent. “I suppose I’ll step out of my comfort zone, just this once” he remarked cheekily, making you nearly jump for joy at his response, an elated smile stretching across your lips as you eagerly led him out on the floor to dance. Vander could only laugh as he watched you both act as if you were teenagers all over again, pushing the boundaries of friendship and testing the waters of romance.

You looked up at the taller man in front of you, hazel and green eyes gazing upon you with such light of a man so deeply in love. Your bright, contagious laughter filled the air as you danced to the music, caring not for anything but this moment. Who cared if anyone else was watching? Who what anyone else was thinking? If they were judging. The only person you cared about looking at you was the man you were dancing with. Seeing his eyes glued to you, smiling as he attempting to follow your pace and rhythm was all you needed. This had to be heaven, surely. “I’ve never seen you dance like this before” Silco commented with a cheeky grin, happy to see you so comfortable and carefree while in his presence. “I normally don’t, but for such a special occasion I decided to make an exception” you replied, making him laugh as you both continued to let the beat carry you, finding your feet moving nearly in sync all on their own.

Before you knew it, one dance had turned into quite a few, then quite a few turned into spending nearly all night out there getting caught up in song. Silco found himself enjoying the moment and the chance to be with you far more than he could have ever anticipated. Who knew stepping out of your bubble a little could be so much fun? Suddenly the music had taken on a much slower turn from the rest of the music that had been playing, even the lights had dropped a little to add to the almost romantic atmosphere. You’d never slow danced before, and you figured that you’d likely pulled Silco out of his element for long enough, so you took it as your sign to hop back behind the bar. However before you could, his voice stopped you. “Where are you going?” He asked softly, looking confused and almost hurt that you were going to leave. “Oh, I figured you were probably done dancing for the night so I…I thought I’d head back behind the bar. I didn’t want to force you to stay here dancing all night if it isn’t what you want” you explained, feeling a pang of guilt hit you in the chest as he looked upon you so sadly. Any chance he had to spend with you he would do in a heartbeat, so long as it was with you, he’d do just about anything. “I don’t feel forced. You’ve brought me out of my element yes, but I’ve enjoyed dancing with you. I’d be even happier to continue” he admitted wholeheartedly, making you perk up a little to hear he was enjoying himself, finding yourself a little surprised at the prospect. “Really?” You asked, voice hopeful as you looked to him, watching him shake his head yes, easing your every worry. “Would you give me this dance?” He asked bravely, hand extended out for you to take. You looked to it before looking back up at him with a blushy smile, heart feeling as if it would beat out of your chest from both excitement and anxiousness. “I’d be delighted to” you responded sweetly, grabbing his hand and allowing him to lead you both to a spot that allowed you enough room while also granting you a little bit of privacy compared to before. “Full disclosure, I’ve never slow danced before” you finally confessed, a little embarrassed but it only made him chuckle. “Me either, it’s okay. I won’t judge” he repeated back to you the exact same thing you’d told him when you asked him to dance, making you laugh at the witty comeback. It was only fair, you supposed. You’d brought him out of his comfort zone and showed him a great time in doing so, it was only fair to allow him to do the same for you. Besides, when would you be able to get this chance to share with him again? Better to take the opportunity, make the best of it and be able to look back on it as a memory someday than not and mourn what could have been. “Clever play, using my own words against me” you replied, making him only grin wider. “Just follow my lead” he spoke confidently, bringing your arm to loop around his neck as one of his hands rested at your hip, the other holding yours as you both stepped and swayed to the beat, keeping it simple. You couldn’t help the rouge that ran across your cheeks however that this was even happening right now. From the close proximity of your chests being pressed together, to your hands being intertwined as he looked down at you with a soft, love struck smile, all of it was so romantic. So intimate. It left you nervous, not wanting to mess up and ruin the beautiful tension that had begun to set in between you now. Yet you felt so alive, so free. It felt like one of those romantic moments you’d only ever heard of in the books you’d read. You could hardly believe it was actually real. That this was real.

You smiled up at him as you stared into his gorgeous eyes, finding your hand moving from its original place to instead come and rest along the scarred side of his cheek almost instinctively, your thumb rubbing soothing circles against the textured skin there. He was always so self conscious about his scars, especially around you. He didn’t want you to think less of him because of them, or find him less attractive because of them, often covering them with makeup to at least cover the color of the scar tissue and make it blend in with his natural skin tone better. Yet you thought that they were what made him so stunning. Paired with his piercing eyes and the confidence he carried about himself so effortlessly, even the way he dressed, everything about him was just so incredibly special. He stood out amongst the rest of the crowd. Gods he was so handsome. He was so handsome it was almost intimidating, yet you’d known him long enough to know there was no reason to be.

Your sweet gesture made his heart skip in his chest, beating harder and faster than it already had as he smiled down at you. He wondered to himself if it was loud enough for you to hear as it slammed against his sternum. You couldn’t help the way your eyes seemed to curiously flit between his and his lips occasionally, silently wondering how they would feel if they were pressed against your own. Would they be soft? They looked soft. Would they fit well against your own? You hoped to find out. It made you start to think that perhaps the slower song was chosen on purpose, strategically placed so you would dance with him to it. A plan to get you to get him out of his comfort zone, show him some fun, all while setting you both up with the perfect opportunity to speak on feelings that rested unspoken between you for far too long now. Or maybe you were just lucky enough to have fate hand you such a beautiful opportunity. Who were you to turn it down if so? “You’re quite good at this” you complimented, making him give a breathy chuckle. “You’re better than you give yourself credit for” he replied, making you hum with a sweet smile as you looped both of your arms around his neck, taking the bold step and resting your head against his chest as you continued to sway. He froze for a moment as you did, his hands finding your hips before wrapping his arms around you as it set in that you were leaned against him like this. That you felt safe enough with him to do so. It made him nearly dizzy at the thought of having you like this, to have you so close, for you to want this with him. It left him to silently thank every deity above for the opportunity as he shut his eyes and rested his chin on top of your head for a moment, allowing the both of you to sway to the rhythm and just enjoy each other’s warmth.

When the song had finally come to an end, you lifted your head up to look at him, eyes once again flickering between his gaze and his lips with that same curiosity. Only this time it was much stronger than it was before. “Thank you, for dancing with me. For…for choosing to share this moment with me” you said meekly, making him look to you as one of his hands cupped your cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin just as you’d done to him. For a moment the world was completely lost on you, it felt as if it was just the two of you here. “No matter the options, no matter the occasion I’d choose you, always” he confessed, tone so genuine, words so heartfelt that the butterflies in your stomach had returned tenfold, leaving you to bite your lip as you bit back a school-girlish giggle. If your mind wasn’t screaming at you to kiss him before, it most certainly was now. “Sil?” You inquired softly, watching as his eyes now trailed to your plush lips before returning your gaze, doing the same to you that you’d been doing to him this whole time. It nearly drove you wild, seeing the want in his eyes, the admiration. All for you. “Yes?” He asked in reply, watching a smile stretch to your lips before you spoke, looking at you expectantly. “Do us both a favor and just kiss me already, would you?” You responded in a cheeky but confident tone, making him hum in amusement at your boldness. He loved it about you, so unafraid to go for the things you wanted or that made you happy. He was honored to be that for you. “I thought you’d never ask” he answered, not wasting even a moment before his lips were on yours, finally answering all curiosities and all thoughts as he held you close. Vander gave an excited whistle and clap that left you smiling into it as you pulled him down against you a little more, showing him just how much you’d wanted this. He chuckled into it, responding by squeezing your hip as your lips melded together for a little while longer, a good handful of people cheering you both on before finally pulling apart. You smiled up at him excitedly as his hand grabbed yours, squeezing it lovingly.

“Well, as delightful as this has been, it’s about time for my shift to be over. Do you…maybe wanna get out of here?” You asked, hoping he would say yes, praying that when you went to put your apron back behind the bar and walk out, you’d be walking out with him. He tried so hard to hide his surprise and excitement at your question, but the way his brows raised a little and eyes opened a little wider didn’t go unnoticed by you, making you giggle softly as you saw it. “Are you asking me to come home with you?” He asked curiously, wanting to make sure he understood exactly what you were implying, not wishing to misread you and do something that would make you upset or assume something incorrectly. “Yes, yes I am” you replied as you looked up at him, awaiting his answer. He was dreaming, he must have been. Had you really just asked him to come home with you? “After you” he said, making you smile and giggle. “G-Great! Yeah, uhh just…let me put this behind the bar for tomorrow then we’ll head out” you replied, skittering behind the bar to quickly take off and fold your apron before tucking it away, informing Vander that you were headed home for the night. He shot you a grin and Silco a knowing glance as you walked back over to him, collecting your things before heading out the door together.

You smiled and giggled with excitement into your shared kiss as your back hit one of the walls in your home that you’d only just stepped foot in but a moment ago. You’d barely even made it in the door that was haphazardly shut with his foot, your hands running up from his chest to tangle in his neatly slicked back hair as your lips melded together in a sinful dance. His one hand rested against the wall, propping himself up with his arm and caging you in a little as the other sat at the back of your thigh, allowing your leg to rest against his hip so he could slot himself even closer to you. He’d spent long enough without you, long enough chasing circles around you, any space between you now was eliminated the moment it was noticed. You felt him slide closer to you between your legs, his other hand coming down from the wall to do the same to your other thigh, tapping it so you would hop up and wrap your legs around his hips. As you did so, he had you effectively pinned against the wall, your hips pressed against his with a moan as your tongues fought in a battle for dominance over the other. One he was delighted to let you win, allowing your tongue to explore his, the taste of whiskey, smoke and tobacco still hanging heavily from his lips. It was an addicting taste. You gasped into the kiss as he rolled his hips against yours, leaving you to pull away to rest your head against the wall as his lips trailed your neck, kissing and nipping at all your sensitive spots. He simply couldn’t get enough of you, your warmth, the feel of your soft skin against his own, the sounds of your melodic moans filling his ears, it was all such bliss. And Janna almighty was he a lucky man to be the one who gets to see you like this. His nimble fingers danced curiously beneath the bottom of your shirt, calloused hands caressing your waist. He aided you in removing your shirt, leaving you there before him in your bra and the sight alone made him throb against you, earning a quiet gasp with delight as you looked to him excitedly. Lust filled your gaze, pupils nearly encompassing the entirety of your irises as a smile still rested on your lips, waiting for his next move. His hands found their way behind you, undoing the clasps to your bra and watching as you tossed it aside without a care. “Beautiful” was all he could say as he gazed upon you, leaving you to blush and give a hum in response.

Once you’d finally made it to your bedroom, you aided in the removal of his shirt, undoing the buttons, unraveling all the stylish layers teasingly yet carefully slow while looking up at him. You notified his fingers twitched with anticipation, patiently waiting for you to finish so he could feel your skin against his once more. Once they’d finally been undone, they trailed along your floor towards the foot of your bed, allowing you to gaze upon his slender form. You smiled with all the kindness in the world as you gazed upon him, looking at him as if he were a god standing before you, offering himself to you. It all felt so unreal. Your hands rested on his chest once he’d leaned in closer, begging for the taste of your lips against his once more, helping you to lay on your back as he kissed you much softer this time. Your arms looped around his neck to hold him close, inviting him to continue. He eagerly straddled your frame, one of his hands coming down to caress the curve of your waist before reaching upwards to your chest. He paused for a moment, unsure of whether it was okay for him to touch, so you took the chance to grab his hand, placing it there for him with a playful grin into your shared kiss before looping your arms back around him, hands splayed against his lithe figure. You moaned sweetly in response as he massaged your breast in his hand, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and tangle with your own, deepening the kiss.

Before you knew it his hand was trailing down your frame once again, fingers slipping past your naval and down towards the waistband of your pants. He broke the kiss to work at the button of your pants, leaving you panting for air as a flush set against your cheeks. You giggled as you watched him fumble with the button and zipper for a little bit, the eager shake of his hands making it prove to be a bit more difficult before he was finally able to get it undone. He looked to you for permission as his fingers hooked in the waistband, waiting for you to tell him it was okay. When your hands pushed down against his own to help them inch down your hips, he took that as his answer, pulling them, along with your panties, down and off of your legs before tossing them behind him unceremoniously, making you laugh. “Eager, are we?” You teased with a grin, making him chuckle. “I don’t think you understand just how long I’ve wanted you” he replied, sending a pleasant shudder down your spine and stoked the fire burning in your core at the thought that he’s craved you like this. That he’s fantasized about this. “Then what are you waiting for?” You asked, making him shoot you a crooked grin before sinking down and settling between your legs, laying gentle yet hot kisses to your inner thighs. “For you to scream my name for all of Zaun to hear as I please you like no one else can” he responded confidently with a much deeper tone, hands resting on your thighs and keeping them spread as he brought his lips to your throbbing clit.

Your reaction was immediate, back arching slightly from the mattress as your hands flew down to tangle in his hair. “Fuck…” you cursed quietly before moaning as his tongue licked flatly up your slit then fluttered against your aching bud. He moaned into you at your taste, opening his eye to look up at you as he sat between your legs lavishing you with attention, and gods above was he graced with a beautiful sight. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth open as moans billowed from your throat unrestrained, your chest heaving up and down with each labored breath. His every fantasy was ruined in this moment, because nothing, absolutely nothing would ever look better than you do right now. Nothing will ever hold a candle to your beauty as he pleased you. You looked fucking ethereal. Nothing could have possibly prepared him for it, for how perfect you looked, how delicious you tasted, how sexy you sounded moaning his name like a mantra for a lost god. He’d give anything to stay here, like this. All you’d ever have to do is ask.

You felt as one of his nimble fingers prodded at your entrance, easing its way in thanks to the mix between your slick and his saliva before searching for any of your sensitive spots. You gasped as he curled his finger within you, feeling him rubbing against your gummy walls as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it. It left you dizzy, weak even, with just how good it felt. “Gods, yes! Just like that” you encouraged, one hand smoothing through his hair as you looked down at him while he worked you with his mouth, your fingers of your other hand coming up to toy with one of your sensitive nipples, adding to your pleasure. He groaned into you as he took notice of this, enjoying the sight of you playing with yourself as he brought you pleasure, listening to you moan his name like a prayer. None of Zaun would be able to mistake who had you feeling this good once he was through with you. His free hand came up to mirror your ministrations, showing your other breast some much needed attention. You gave a louder moan in surprise as he pinched it playfully between his thumb and index finger before rolling it beneath the pad of his thumb to soothe. The pain sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your clit, making him grin against you as he worked a second finger inside of you whilst skillfully tweaking your nipple.

You started to feel that all too familiar feeling of tension beginning to fester and rise in your lower belly, so close to snapping any moment now. Your hips rutted against his tongue and fingers, making him moan into your cunt as you used him for your pleasure, trying desperately to gain any bit of friction you could to propel you over the edge, and allow you to tumble into euphoria. “So close, please…” you begged through breathless pants, absolutely desperate to cum. It was when his fingers curled and rubbed against your walls once more that he found that spongy spot within you that lit your every nerve ending on fire. “Right there! Oh gods, Silco please” you let out, making him continue exactly what he was doing, hearing as your voice raised a bit higher in pitch, feeling your walls begin to tighten around his fingers. Before you could even think to warn him, your orgasm was rushing over you, consuming you whole as you screamed his name without a care for any consequence. Your back arched from the bed, eyes rolling back and your legs attempting to shut tightly as you twitched and writhed with every movement of his tongue and fingers that worked to help you down from cloud nine and draw out your pleasure for as long as possible, careful not to overstimulate you. Perhaps that could be saved for another day, should he be lucky enough.

He wiped his lips of your slick with the back of his hand before trailing them back up your body, stopping to suck gently on one of your nipples purely to see you writhe against him with need. He chuckled at your pathetic whine as your fingers came to the waistband of his pants, giving them an impatient tug. “Need me that bad, do you?” He asked with a cheeky grin down at you, the sight of you beneath him like this better than any dream he’s ever had. Seeing your hair settle around you against the sheets, the sight of you naked before him, glowing from the after effects of your orgasm that *he’d* given you. Seeing you wanting him just as much as he’d wanted you. It was unreal. “I don’t think you understand just how long I’ve wanted you” you replied cleverly, using his own words against him like he had done to you earlier, making him chuckle once more. Could you be any more perfect? “Then what are you waiting for?” He asked, making you grin deviously as you flipped him over on his back this time, straddling his hips now as your hand pressed against his chest, keeping him pressed against the mattress beneath you. His eyes looked to you with surprise at your quick and dexterous movements before waiting to hear what you had to say in response. “For you to take your pants off so all of Zaun can listen as you please me like no one else ever will” you replied with a confident grin, watching as he did exactly as you asked.

You both moaned pleasantly as he bottomed out, fully seated inside of you now, the angle allowing him to sit deeper within you as you straddled his hips. You gave yourself a moment to adjust, leaning down to kiss him once more to distract yourself from the momentary pain of the stretch. You could feel him throb inside of you with excitement, each pulse of his cock sending a pleasant tingle to your core. It was as he shifted his hips a little to get more comfortable that both of you moaned, the movement accidentally causing him to thrust into you a bit. So you started to move up and down on him at a slow pace to start, testing the waters to see if you were ready. And fuck, were you ready. He was in so deep like this that his tip nestled against your cervix each time you would sink back down onto him. It was heavenly. “Fuck…” you sighed as you started to pick up the pace a little, the sounds of his thighs meeting your ass, your shared panting and the slight creak of the bed becoming louder with your efforts, filling your room with the sinful symphony of sex. His hands slipped down your body to rest at your hips, gripping them tightly as he watched you skillfully bounce up and down on his cock, enjoying the sight of his length disappearing inside of you then peeking back out. “Janna almighty…” he let out, absolutely enraptured with the way your cunt wrapped around him so well, welcoming him so perfectly, he couldn’t help it. You were so warm, so wet, so tight around him that it left him breathless, fighting to not cum so soon. You couldn’t help but to giggle at his remark. “Feel good?” You asked between breathless pants, watching as he looked up at you, bewildered that you could possibly ask such a question. “Better than good, you feel incredible” he replied, a groan leaving him upon a particularly harsh thrust of your hips, watching you get lost in your pleasure as you rode him. You were quite the sight to behold while in the throws of your pleasure, watching your beautiful tits bounce as you moved, your head tilted back and eyes close as you’d find that perfect rhythm that drove you both wild. Every bit of you was so perfect in his eyes, he just simply couldn’t get enough. He watched as you bit your soft, kissable lips, teeth working at them and it made him crave the taste of them again, the feel of them against his own.

He sat up for a moment, bringing himself now eye level with you as you continued to ride him but now at a different angle. One that was even better. You hadn’t even thought that possible. He chased your lips, capturing them with his own as he started to thrust his hips up into you, matching your pace with precision. With each roll of his hips, not only was he hitting deeply inside, but your clit was getting new found attention, leaving you to moan into the kiss as you met his thrusts eagerly. “You’re perfect” he complimented, his lips trailing kisses down your neck to your shoulder as you felt that ever familiar coil begin to wind tight in your core again. It was as you were about to reach your peak that the words left you before you could even register that you’d said them. “I love you” you confessed, panting as you looked upon him with a blush tinting your cheeks and a hopeful, yet vulnerable look in your eyes that told him your sentiment was completely sincere. That this meant something far more to you than just a heated moment to be forgotten about or never spoken of once morning came. You loved him. He smiled so purely, so joyfully as the words graced his ears. “For so long I’ve dreamt of hearing those words from you” he replied, making you smile back as you finally realized that the feeling was mutual, no longer scared of the potential of rejection. “I love you” he reciprocated, making your heart race as you kissed him, your hands cupping his face as he held you, rutting his hips up into you with newfound fervor. “So close…” you panted once you both broke apart for air, feeling yourself sit dizzily at the edge of bliss as his lips trailed along your neck. “Cum for me, darling. Give it to me” he said, angling his hips perfectly to stroke that spot deep inside of you that had you keening. That was all it took. The tension within your core blossomed to warmth as your every nerve ending surged with fiery pleasure, your walls clenching around him as you moaned his name loudly, clinging to him for dear life whilst your orgasm consumed you. The sight of you twitching and nearly convulsing in ecstasy, mixed with the way your cunt squeezed him even tighter sent him toppling over the edge soon after, spilling himself inside of you with a deep, almost guttural groan. You gave a pleased hum at the sensation, feeling him throb within you and fill you so incredibly full as you both sat there, fighting to catch your breath and looking upon one another in awe. Enjoying the buzzing sensation of your shared afterglow, you leaned in to the press a gentle, loving kiss to his lips, further solidifying that your words genuine and that this moment had indeed meant something. When you pulled back, your hand resting gently on the scarred side of his cheek, you were graced with the most love struck look, making you smile and giggle. “What?” You asked, a cheeky grin stretched to your lips. “Nothing, just taking in the view” he said, making you hum. “Is that so?” You asked. “You’re incredible” he said, turning to kiss your palm as he held his hand against the back of yours, leaning into your soft touch, simply wishing to stay there and enjoy the intimacy of the moment together.

It was as you were both lying there in your bed peacefully, having come back from getting cleaned up, you’d even gone another round whilst in the shower, as an entertaining thought came to you. “You wanna know something funny?” You asked, propping your head up on your hand, leaning your weight on your elbow as you laid on your side, facing him. “What’s that?” He asked, eyes trailing over your frame with wonder, in awe of the fact that you truly were here before him, and that you both shared such an intimate moment together not only once, but twice. Your top half was peaking out from beneath the blanket, allowing him the view of your chest and all the marks he’d left upon your delicate skin as he waited with much anticipation for what you had to say. “If you think about it; it took us dancing with one another to stop dancing around each other. Kinda funny how that worked out, don’t you think?” you spoke with a grin, making you both laugh. “I suppose it is” he replied, making you smile and hum as you looked to him lovingly, happy to see him here with you, happy to have shared what you did with him. “I love you, Sil. Thanks again for tonight” you said sweetly, making him smile as you said it. “I love you too, and thank you” he replied as you cuddled up to him beneath the covers, his arm slung around your frame protectively as you began to drift peacefully to sleep in his arms.

Perhaps heaven wasn’t a moment in time, or an action to be taken, but rather a person, and as you sat there in his arms, he could confidently say that you were that person.

[fy-wonwoo]

[IG] 241028 wonwoo left a comment on seungkwan’s post:

I no longer want to see my loved ones getting hurt. After observing everything that has happened, I’ve tried to suppress my feelings, thinking it would eventually pass. But now, I realize I can’t just watch these situations unfold silently for my fans, my members, and my fellow artists who are working hard.

Being an entertainer is a choice I made, and while I understand that I must endure some pain due to the love I receive, I don’t believe this profession should involve self-destruction. I want to do my best in my work and give back to the fans who support me, sharing the positive energy I can. The pressures and burdens I feel are immense, affecting both my body and mind.

Despite this, we must keep pushing forward. Some look at things rationally, others try to smile through the pain, and some are just enduring as best as they can. I accepted this responsibility when I chose this path, yet today feels particularly harsh and unfair.

Just as some days are bright and others are cloudy, today feels overcast for me. I wonder if I have ever truly tried to stay positive or smile through tough times. Today is not easy, and it saddens me to think of those who are hurting right now. It frustrates me that I can’t comfort everyone, and I question whether my clumsy words can resonate or provide comfort to anyone.

I want to emphasize that my fellow members and those in the K-pop industry I know genuinely love this work. They hurt because they care, and even when they feel empty, they continue to give love to themselves, their members, their families, and their fans.

I want to make it clear: we are not people who can be easily judged for our journey. We have endured pain and challenges to show our best selves on stage, and we work tirelessly for that. Please don’t underestimate what it means to be an idol.

We don’t deserve to have our story treated lightly. This goes for all artists; we are not your items to be used at will. Just one week of music shows can leave us utterly exhausted. Yet, even amidst advertisements, events, and performances, I see colleagues smiling warmly and greeting me. When they do, I smile back, as that is the least I can do. Their simple greetings and heartfelt messages in albums give me strength on tough days.

I appreciate the culture of challenges, where friends, even those who don’t know each other, can share dance videos together. Building small memories together is beautiful, and if it brings joy to the fans, even better. I hope we can all make an effort to be a little warmer. If we support and treat each other kindly, perhaps things can improve. Watching someone fall apart and give up is something I detest. My sincere wish is to stop giving wounds that we cannot take responsibility for. I don’t want to see my members, fellow artists, or our devoted fans hurt any longer. I want to express my love and apologies to those fans who support us so warmly.

ww: As Seungkwan said, I hope this can be a world only full of warmth.

trans

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

Pleasant Surprise

Pairing: Louis Tomlinson x Y/N

Summary: After a trip abroad, Louis returns home to his girl.

Warnings: nothing but fluff :)

My first time writing for any of my darlings from 1D. It’s been a rough month, spent the past couple days listening to all their music both individually and in the band which birthed the idea of writing a fic, so here you are.

Ps. I haven’t had the motivation to write anything for almost a year but the boys gave me a little push.

---------

Y/n sighed for what felt like the millionth time today as she kept flipping through the channels on the tv in search of something to entertain herself. When nothing piqued her interest, she gave up. She took a look around her surroundings and decided that she should do some tidying up. It’s been a couple days she’s been in a slum and the pile of clean laundry has been staring at her on the other sofa begging to be folded and put away.  

Throwing the covers off of her, she opened up Spotify to play some music while she started working on the living room. The intro to best song ever filled the room as she pulled her hair up into a messy bun and got up to her feet.  

Excellent choice Spotify, she thought, with a smile on her plump lips. 

Her boyfriend, Louis hadn’t been in the country for almost a month as he went to L.A. to spend time with Freddie during his school break. She missed him dearly but she knows and understands that the little lad was Louis’ world and the last thing she ever wants to do is come between them. For the past couple weeks, she managed to get through her hospital shifts, using it as a distraction from the fact that an empty house waited on her at the end of her twelve-hour shift.  

Louis loved spending time with his son in L.A., they had made the most out of their time together by going to beach, ice-cream runs, playing football together, basically whatever Freddie wanted to do, they did. Amidst all the fun, Louis was desperately missing his girl waiting back home for him. Sometimes he’d feel guilty for having to be away from her but she continuously reminded him that Freddie came first and reassured him that it’s okay for not being around.  

That’s one of the many things he loved about her, her understanding. 

With the laundry all sorted, y/n finished cleaning up the living room by dumping all the accumulating water bottles and empty snack packs that only grew as the days went by. Little black dress came on and she began belting out the lyrics without a care in the world because who was there to judge her? Definitely not her sassy boyfriend. The last time Louis had heard her singing one of Niall’s songs, he teased her about it by saying that Donkey from Shrek had more talent than her. Of course, y/n locked him out the bedroom that night.  

With the area tidied, she moved to the kitchen. The song continued on and she couldn’t help but fully give into the music and started swaying her hips to the sound of Louis’ voice that’s belting through the speakers. She was totally engrossed in the music; she didn’t hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway nor the sound of the front door being opened and shut.  

Louis lips broke out into a cheeky smile at the song flooding the house mixed with his girl’s voice upon entry. Abandoning his luggage at the door, Louis followed her voice to the kitchen and paused in the doorway. Y/N was oblivious to his presence behind her, too focused on wiping down kitchen island. She had on her oversized black t-shirt that he loved seeing her in, she was in her element and Louis loved seeing her like this. Happy and carefree. 

I like to see the way you move for me baby! 

Louis watched her intently as she swayed her hips and dipped to the floor, his eyes focused on her bum the entire time. When she stood up to her full height, he snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He felt her stiffen at first but quickly relaxed when she realized that it was her Lou. His scent that she loved so much, invaded all her senses. 

“What a way to be welcomed home, love.” He inhaled the scent of her shampoo and kissed the exposed skin of her neck, immediately raising goosebumps on her skin. Her cheeks flushed out of embarrassment. 

“You’re early.” Lou gently turned her around in his arms and wasted no times kissing those lips he’s missed all that time apart. Lou nipped at her lips a couple times before breaking apart to get some much-needed air.  

“It’s called a surprise love and from now on I’ll keep changing my flights home if it means I get to come home to your poor singing and tempting dancing.” Y/N rolled her eyes at his comment, he should be the last person talking. 

“You shouldn’t be talking Mr. Oohhh it’s whatcha do to meeeee.” Louis gasped at her impression of his dreadful X-Factor audition. 

“Ha ha ha, funny. You’re gonna regret that.” She couldn’t hold in her laugh as he hoisted her up on the countertop. She cupped his face and pulled him in for another kiss, this time more needy and sloppy. 

The pair were happy to be reunited after their time apart, neither one of them couldn’t wait to have each other to themselves. 

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Hey >:) Just a thought I had while reading the child creator AU.

What if the child was actually on of the archons? like, would you imagine it being Zhongli or Venti? They be like:

Zhongli: I demand to know who the father is! *looking threadedly while holding his spear, ready to pounce at someone* Creator: *sweating and thought* It's you bu. *The other Archons arguing as to which mortal it was that laid their hands on their creator*

Creator: *looks at them, then looking at Venti* *Venti, catching the creators gaze, winked and took his tonged out, fully knowing he was the father but keeping quite. He wasn't that dumb.*

Anyway that's enough of me, bye!

Archon's son

WC : 1k, venti: 591 zhongli:594

(somehow they ended somewhat close! I thought zhongli would be longer by a fair bit)

Cw:

venti- nahida can see the baby kicking inside the belly (I heard some people feel it's like body horror so just in case)

Zhongli -reader passed out because of low iron, pica/eating rocks

I will admit that this is mostly centered around the idea that they do know that it's theirs or it's likely to but at the beginning there is something along the line of that, anyway, wouldn't it be fun if venti's child could change some features, one day he looks like you and the next he is his dad's clone

“Why is everyone so silent?” Venti fills his glass with some wine, the atmosphere thick enough to cut. You were hosting dinner in your serenitea pot, something informal and a thinly veiled excuse to strengthen links between nations, and somehow the papers written by your physician were next to the door long enough for both zhongli and the tsaritsa to read.

“Their situation implies that they shared bed with a mortal” the tsaritsa crosses her arms above her chest, the way her lips curved and the roll of her eyes show her distaste for the situation.

“If their grace wanted to be accompanied by a man shouldn't that be their choice?” Venti says out loud while feigning innocence “who are we even to judge that?”

“Surprisingly enough Barbatos does have a point, to react like this is to some extent patronizing” Nahida nods along.

“tsk!”

“They seem pleased enough with the current situation so I find no reason to meddle” Raiden speaks for the first time since being seated. As much as the tsaritsa would have liked to snap back at her, you appear from the hallway oblivious to their fight so she chooses to bite her tongue and hope you bring it up later.

“Aren't they fidgety…” Nahida mumbles softly as you pat her hair, the soft white hair mixing with her green streaks. Her head is resting on your lap as you drink tea, bright green eyes focused on the prodding against your skin, some kicks and punches from the inside.

“Mhm, I can feel it in my ribs”

“just one month more, your grace!”

“Never thought a child could be so similar to only one of their parents” Raiden watches the baby from his crib, a small wood cot that Candace sent as a gift from Aaru village.

“Well, to a certain extent I expected that” venti WAS originally a formless air spirit mimicking his friend's form, at first you didn't even think he would be able to reproduce, but here we are and hubris is your biggest sin.

“♪~~♪~” spirit form venti sneaked inside the nursery by the slightly cracked space between the window and the window frame, barely smaller than your pinky finger but just enough for him to slip inside.

A good thing of simply being a bard in his nation was the freedom he enjoys, he is known for his songs and how good they are so it isn't strange when you have him around your house or in your serenitea pot, the pretext that you enjoy music under the shadow of your garden and that your little clone gets lulled to sleep quickly by his soft tunes. Even then it would be strange for him to be around so often so sometimes he just settles for mixing between his son's plushies and watching him play around for a while, after all it isn't like he has anything better to do.

“!!” Swiftly he gets caught by his son's hand and thrown up and down like a doll. This wasn't as smart as he thought.

“Hello, baby” Venti babytalks the the 1 year old seated on the floor playing with stacking blocks when he sees him he smiles. As much as Venti loved the image he couldn't help but be slightly scared as when he opened his eyes they were now his exact same colour.

“Oh, sh-” next blink his eyes were your color, the sane he was born with “how about we make this our little secret we never talk about ever again?”

“Their condition isn't as dire as you are making it seem it's just-” Zhongli tries to calm down Raiden, who visited Liyue under the pretext of cultural exchange.

“It isn't dire? They almost passed out during a leisurely stroll”

“At most they might have gotten low blood pressure”

Baizhu lets your arm go to hush them a bit “they aren't sick, just pregnant and not eating enough iron. May I continue the check-up or do you wish to wait outside?”

“as I insisted, Raiden, their grace isn't ill, they are just pregnant, which falls under no criteria of sickness”

“I meant to tell this to everyone next month but I guess Raiden gets to be the second to know!”

“For one to be impertinent enough to dare bed their grace” Raiden snarls under her teacup, a frown on her lips.

“I must guess their couple must be Ill mannered and uncivil” the tsaritsa follows her idea, the rest of the archon were asked to visit Liyue sooner than arranged to receive an important and very unexpected news, even if they didn't wish to show you directly their discontent between them it was fair enough.

“Don't you seem too calm, Morax?”

“Not at all, I'm burning with hatred” he crosses his legs but makes the point of hitting his knee against the table “I'm so angry I can't even control my moves”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“i will be prescribing you with a herbal tea to ease the birth process, when you come out Qiqi should have them neatly portioned in the daily brew” Baizhu turns around to give Qiqi the list of flowers and roots and how much of each to put in little silk satchel. As he turns around to follow the examination he sees you close to the flowerpot on the desk and your cheek lightly swollen. A deep sigh leaves hus disappointed face, simply pointing to the pot “please, spit” and you do so, a rock falling back to the dirt. Even then Baizhu still looks disappointed.

“Didn't you tell me to eat more iron?”

“Not from dirt, my grace…”

“Then is iron ore fair game?”

“No… just simply no”

“He is a chunky baby” furina prods at your son's chubby cheek, before the time of delivery the doctors told you to expect twins but unexpectedly enough he was just a big baby around 4kg or 8.8lbs and he keeps growing as times goes.

“As heavy as a bag of stones!”

Lei headbutts your leg, his small hands scratching his scalp “please don't tell me you got lice, I told you to be careful” you settle your cup down on the table as you excuse yourself with cloud retainer, who visited to give you advice at childrearing.

“But I wasn't close to anyone with lice” quickly, your hands start segmenting his scalp looking for lice or eggs but there was nothing behind his ears or on his nape, but when you go higher towards his forehead you find two protrusions that made Lei push your hand away when touched.

“Ah? That does remind me back when Morax ripped his horn off during a fight, tte skin closed and we were so worried it wouldn't grown back, luckily a few months after a new one punctured the skin, even if he was so cranky like a child that season”

“And here I thought because he wasn't born with them he wouldn't get them”

“To suppress such minimal features shouldn't be too much work, even if this one thinks the child would prefer not to”

[millieisawriter]

By the fire

javier escuella x reader

summary: one calm evening you find javier — the newest addition to the gang — sitting alone by the campfire. despite the language barrier still being there, the man finds a way to charm you

wc: 1k

all pics taken from pinterest

♡this was requested!♡

a/n: the song is made up cus i couldn't find any existing song that fit, it's actually a poem i once wrote about a girl i had a crush on lmao this is happening sometime shortly after javier has joined the gang because i thought it'd be cute if y'all didn't know each other's language lol if you know spanish my bad just pretend you don't i guess, but i'd love to write latina reader sometime too

The gang has put up their camp somewhere in the state of Colorado. The day had been tiring, as it always is when you're moving, and everyone must have been wishing for the moment they can finally go to sleep. It didn't surprise you when before midnight everyone had already retreated to their tents or wherever they slept.

Everyone, except for one person. Your eyes caught a glimpse of a silhouette sitting by the scouting fire, away from the center of the camp. The night was dark, but judging by the guitar resting in his lap, you assumed it was Javier.

"You good?" You approached, sitting down next to him. Thankfully, you didn't have to sit on the bare ground, because Pearson had made those rugs of goat skin.

Javier looked up at you, his fingers momentarily stopping their movement on the strings. "Sí, sí, just... muy tired, you know?"

"Me too," you replied, leaning back and stretching your legs out, "me too..."

Javier made so much progress these past few months he's been running with the gang. The day Dutch had brought him into the camp, you wondered how did they even manage to communicate, maybe Dutch did speak some Spanish after all.

"And how are you..." you tried to search for a simple word, but none came easily, "adjusting? Adjusting as... how do you holding up, living with us?"

"Is good, más good than life on my own. Alone is no good. Here with you all I have food, place to sleep. And gente who care, I think."

"Of course we care," you smiled at him, "honestly, I can't imagine the gang without you and your music now."

His lips twitched with a playful smile. "I keep playing then?"

"Yes, please, I'd love to hear more."

"What you want to hear, querida?"

You paused, considering his question. Truth be told, you just loved to hear him play. It didn't matter what the song was about. Most of the time, you didn't even know since he sang in Spanish, so you would catch a few words at most.

So you gave him the choice. "You choose."

Javier's grin widened, and his eyes glistened with a brilliant idea. He adjusted the guitar in his lap, strumming a few notes before looking back at you.

"You know, in Mexico when a man has something to say... something from... el corazón," he placed a hand over his chest, "he sings."

"And what do you have to say, Javier?" You asked, feeling warmth cover you both from the fire, and from this tingling, warm feeling inside your chest.

But instead of answering your question, Javier started playing the guitar. Soft notes of the instrument filled your ears again, and you subconciously smiled wider, even allowing yourself to close your eyes for a moment.

And then, when you thought it can't get any better, Javier started singing. "¿Cómo puedo empezar a decir lo que siento, si mi corazón se detiene al escuchar tu nombre?"

[How can I start to say what I feel, if my heart stops when I hear your name?]

The melody was light, but you could feel he's singing about something that held big significance to him.

He continued, "Quiero perderme en las estrellas de tus ojos, y contigo no quiero esperar al amanecer."

[I want to get lost in the stars of your eyes, and with you I don't want to wait for the sunrise.]

You didn't understand every word, most of them you didn't understand, but the emotion behind them was overwhelming. Javier's words, whatever they meant, reached right into your chest, gently eveloping your heart.

"Dejemos que la luna nos muestre el camino, no hay prisa, solo el latido de nuestros corazones. Contigo, no necesito respuestas, porque tú eres la verdad que siempre he buscado."

[Let the moon show us the way, there is no hurry, only the beat of our hearts. With you, I don’t need answers, because you are the truth I have always looked for.]

The last note faded away, the night became quiet once again, and you opened your eyes, looking at Javier.

"What you think?" He asked.

You struggled to find words that could match the beauty of what he had just shared. "Javier, I..." you shook your head, smiling, "I think that, even if I didn't understand it, I felt it. In my el corazón."

Javier chuckled at your attempt at Spanish, "Maybe next time I teach you the meaning."

You smiled. "I'd like that."

For a while, neither of you said anything more. The quiet night wrapped around the two of you as Javier continued playing some notes on the guitar but none of them hitting you as hard as the song he sang just for you.

"By the way," he decided to speak again, "you don't add el after my. Is just mi corazón."

"Ah, I butchered it." You laughed with embarrassment, even though you knew he didn't correct you to be mean.

He found it very endearing. "No, no, is just... if you want to learn, you learn correct, sí?"

"Fine, fine," you took a deep breath, exaggerating your effort, "mi corazón." You nailed the pronounciation almost perfectly.

"Muy bien," he said, giving an approving nod, "now try gracias, Javier, tú eres el mejor."

You let out a fake groan of annoyance, having an idea what this phrase could mean. "Really?"

"What?" He raised his hands up in a mock innocence. "Is good practice!"

You rolled your eyes playfully but obliged. "Gracias, Javier. Tú eres el mejor."

"Perfecto! See? You learn fast." He applauded you for the effort, clearly very amused.

You sat there with Javier a little longer, the warmth of the fire spreading between you, but it was the warmth of his smile, his laugh, and his song that stayed with you long after you retreated to your tent.

[gold0venice]

Oh my god I have so many thoughts, but I am running on four hours of sleep, so here we fucking go *screaming, sobbing, crying*

1. Determination vs Desperation

I know that Ivan made a very big and impactful decision in the previous round, and honestly I can see that through Till’s expressions during the video. Mizi might have been a symbol of salvation to Till, but Ivan (and his death) was his reason to go ahead, fierce and determined and powerful. However, Ivan’s death is also a testament of momentum as well as desperation. Till is determined and desperate to survive and live. But this is made also absolutely obvious by the appearance of Mizi, which I will get into soon. Anyways, also in sense of colour scheme, Till switches from green to yellow/orange. We have also noticed the pattern of red, orange and yellow with Ivan’s and Ivan vs Till rounds. It’s as much as a homage but also a haunting, “the fiery thrill blazes out to the sky”. It’s like Till’s and Ivan’s memories and their lost future haunt him, and have left him “(leave no) regrets”. Perhaps not leaving with Till? These regrets and memories are both his strength and weakness, but Ivan gave him the will and reason to fight back. In this way, Till also seems to be wearing a branded armband of his segyen (sorry if it’s misspelt 😭). In a way he is literally playing the game like Ivan did.

At the same time, these are very bright, memorable and fierce colours that stand out, which made me (sadly) believe he would survive. This is also a contrast to the blues and violets of Luka, which are more mellow, but we soon see it is a growing determined movement. It is mellow because it is unassuming, and this sneaks up on Till twice, when Luka imitates Ivan. In a way this is sadly ironic, as Ivan never thought he would be a traumatic point for Till (lmao babe said what to Sua???), but that pain was exploited anyways by Luka 😭👋🤧

2. Musician’s choice

Till playing the guitar in this video made me blush (please don’t judge me, I love him so much), but more than that I love the implications of the instruments here. Firstly, both Till and Luka play strings instruments. The violin is classical, the guitar here is electric. They are already in juxtaposition with genres (and personalities lol), but they are still strings (singers for the competition), and fit together very well. You could say that the instruments resemble and are metaphors for Luka and Till. What I most like about this scene is that it is more like a battle between music prodigies, which was very exciting, because we have never seen these two interact before.

While both Luka and Till are amazing and well recognised artists, you can see the differences that separate them. Luka is all out confident, in control and powerful vocalist. Till is the same, but there is sense of desperation and a crippling anxiety, even as he plays the guitar. It looks like a fake confidence as much as a hidden fear. Both instruments work well together but the musicians are in different positions. I also have an inkling that Luka picked the violin on purpose. It is a contrast to Till’s already seen powered playing with his guitar in his round, but we have never seen Luka playing the violin, which gives the element of surprise, and a first step to shake up Till.

3. Grief on Stage

Alien Stage is merciless. Luka himself is a result of this system as a merciless manipulator. Luka imitating Ivan is terrible, and also turns on Till’s not fully registered trauma from Ivan’s death. Ivan is haunting Till, even after his death, and it has been clear for quite a while that Till actually cares for Ivan quite a lot. About haunting, figuratively and literally, Ivan’s red pupils resembles the red glare of the camera that follows Till in all his moments, his strength and weaknesses. The same red is reflected in Till’s pupils, which is so funny (I am in tears) because it really emphasises the pressure, stress and panic, but also letting go because it’s overwhelming him. Till’s pain and grief is an open wound that he tried to patch up too fast, and now it’s bleeding out and over the bandage.

The song title and lyrics also play into this idea as “in a blink gone” is quite literate. Till blinks and Ivan is shot. Till blinks and Ivan dies. It’s the shock of his death, and adrenaline that makes his body language so interesting in this round. Here in this scene Till is hunching over in pain and grief and haunting, and Ivan (masqueraded by Luka) acts into this. A well imitated Ivan with no look of love or adoration or even obsession, an empty shell, that Till falls into, relaxing for a second into the touch, just a for a second, “don’t miss the moment” . Till falls into a cobweb that he can’t get out of (maybe he doesn’t want to)

4. Death on Stage

Now to the part that made my heart blow up. In Alien Stage there are only winners, losers and those who manage to get away. The thing about Till’s death that made our hearts stop and my legs to give out is that Till was actually close to be one of those who got away. Till sees Mizi in the audience (also noticed the detail of the red glare becoming pink?) and he immediately jumps back into focus. He was almost there, just for one second. It is tragic and unfair and depressing. Till becomes a loser in the game on stage, one among the countless victims and dead in Alien Stage. Mizi actually had a chance to be his incarnate salvation, his saviour, but time gets away from them, “the clock goes tick tock tick tock blink, gone”. Mizi was there to catch him, she was reaching out to him, ready to get him away. It’s too late, in a blink he is gone in front of her like Sua.

5. Time and Winners in Alien Stage

Now, there are clear winners in the rounds, but in the long term of it, there are no winners. You can’t win. Mizi tries to win the game by saving Till, but Alien Stage wins, because it needs a winner and a loser. His death is like an afterimage of Sua’s death. Mizi getting saved by the rebels is out of luck and element of surprise. Till not getting out was intentional and foreseen by Alien Stage. In our case it as foreshadowed by All-in,covered by Till. The green splatter of paint (or should I say blood?) was a clear indication as well as the red taped name on his neck.

Till does not get freedom until after death. Till, Ivan, and Sua manage to escape the system only in death. None of them had enough time to actually live, they have always been on borrowed time. The “leave no regrets” also heart wrenching. So yeah the title ‘Blink gone’ plays into the idea of death and morals very well. Mizi is left last standing. Mizi’s friends are dead, they are gone in a blink.

[flying-fangirls]

As a music, religion, and literature nerd, the Dies Irae has been one of my favorite go-to pieces of trivia for a long time, which means that this line:

Has been driving me batshit BONKERS since part 42! And also as a semi-professional media analysis yapper, I figured I might as well dive into the exact reasons I jumped up and audibly gasped upon first hearing this line and have subsequently lost my mind since then. So!

Here is why I think that the Dies Irae is the perfect analogy for John and Arthur:

Religion

Let's start with the most straightforward meaning: "Dies Irae" is a Latin term, and it translates to the "Day of Wrath." Or otherwise known as the Judgement Day, the foretold second coming in Catholic canon, when Christ will "come again in glory to judge the living and the dead." It's at this Last Judgement where God will wield perfect justice to send the worthy to everlasting peace and the unworthy to everlasting punishment. (everyone say "thank you" to excessive childhood Catholic lessons for burning this into my brain)

There's a kind of irony to the fact that Arthur so vehemently rejects Christianity and religion as a whole, and that John spends much of his arc trying to distance himself from the role/identity of a god, yet both are given this incredibly religious title, effectively restricting them from ever forgetting the presence/influence of religion in their lives.

This title has a couple layers though, because we have to consider why it's the Day of Wrath specifically that represents Arthur and John. Now, I don't think I have to tell you that those two are bursting with anger 80% of the time. But I am going to tell you that those two are not just angry, but moreso "divine fury" incarnate.

The Day of Wrath, the Final Judgment, is the final and eternal judgment of God on all: "For now before the Judge severe / all hidden things must plain appear; / no crime can pass unpunished here." (Dies Irae, Dies Illa). The final Judge, the all-powerful God, can see the objective morality of every single person, and is thus the sole, rightful determiner of fate.

This assumption of their right to perfectly and single-handedly decide others' worthiness shows up over and over, not just John and Arthur's actions, but also in how they describe these judgments.

When Arthur kills the widow on the island, it's not because she was dangerous, but because she was a cultist who "deserved" to be punished.

When John and Arthur need to get rid of Mr. Scratch's stone, John says they should give it to "criminals" who are "deserving of this curse." Even though, just moments before, Arthur refused to give the stone to Oscar because to do so would be to cursing him to a fate of eternal suffering.

And I can't go into every single detail about the entire Larson plotline because this post would double in size, but it obviously needs to be included here. Possibly the strongest tie between this arc and the idea of the Dies Irae is Arthur's conviction through it all. Arthur vows that he is going to kill Larson in divine retribution not because he wants to, but because he has to. He even goes so far as to admit that killing Larson will be a mistake, a cruel and overly-bloodthirsty action that goes against his compassion. But killing Larson isn't a choice to Arthur, it is the unavoidable punishment for Larson's sins and Arthur is simply the enactor of justice. Just like the Final Judgment, there is no sympathy, no hesitancy— the judgment is absolute, divinely ordained, and cannot be stopped no matter how undeniably horrific it is.

If we look at the Catholic Catechism, principle 2302 states that it is sinful to kill out of desire, but that it is "praiseworthy to impose restitution" and use violence to "maintain justic." So even if Arthur has intent to kill, his actions count as divinely sanctioned. He is acting as the hand of God's punishment.

Over the course of Season 3 and 4, Arthur's fiery rage dies down to a more gentle simmer, but his conviction only seems to grow, and John follows suit. Despite previously reprimanding Arthur for his unquestioning wrath, John eventually becomes just as convinced that Larson "deserves" to face a wrathful reckoning. The "fact" that Larson is wholly unforgivable and is fated to receive eternal punishment becomes more indisputable in their minds, and they both stop questioning the morality of their intentions, entirely convinced of their judgment.

Throughout the story, Arthur and John insist upon the importance of kindness, compassion, and forgiveness, and say that these are the values that guide their every action. Yet, time and time again, they approach certain people with nothing but wrath and resentment. It's a sharp contrast to the benevolent figures they make themselves out to be, and Arthur and John are often blind to the contradiction because, in their eyes, they are still following those values in every action. And in the moments when they do recognize their horrific words or actions, they still cannot let their judgment go, convinced that it is their "duty" either way.

In Part 35, Arthur says "Just because you can't make the hard decision, doesn't mean it's wrong." This is exactly how John and Arthur view themselves. They know that some of their actions are harsh and violent and painful, but they are don't view that violence as wrong, because they are enacting that violence in justice. They move through life with carefully-selected destruction, culling the world of those they view as unforgivable sinners, and punishing them with divine righteousness. Arthur and John carry righteous fury in their every step, bringing the Day of Wrath down upon the world around them.

Now, there's already a ton of meaning just in this religious allusion alone. However, there's another application of the Dies Irae in modern culture, which brings us to the second side of this title:

Music

Back in the 13th century (sounds like a familiar setting...), friar Thomas of Celano wrote a poem for and about the Dies Irae. The poem was recited at Requiem Mass (church services to honor the dead), and it ended up being set to a Gregorian chant tune.

Over time, this melody has been used by a variety of composers, but the one we're focused on is Hector Berlioz. In 1837, Berlioz used the Dies Irae melody as part of his narrative symphony, Grand Messe de morts, in order to communicate that the main character had died. Then a lot of other composers saw that and said "Hey that's a cool idea!", and started also using this melody to represent death in their music. Nowadays, it's a fairly staple part of modern film and musical storytelling. If you've listened to literally any major soundtrack, then there's a good chance you've heard this motif (or a variation of it) used before. It's often subtle, sometimes loud and obvious, but no matter what, it reveals the inevitable presence of death. (essentially, the Dies Irae=death)

Now, obviously there's something tragically ironic about Arthur being likened to a musical motif when he tries so hard to distance himself from it, and there's something tragically ironic about John being associated with such a dark piece of music when he shows so much fascination and joy toward the art. Again, though, we've got some layers here. Yorick doesn't just compare Arthur and John to the Dies Irae, he literally defines them as the Dies Irae, a full embodiment of it.

Even before the story started, Arthur lost both of his parents, his friend and wife, his daughter, and his best friend.

John, when he was part of the King in Yellow, knew only how to harm and attack. In the Dark World, he falls back on this fearful lashing out with violence, harming even more people.

And throughout the story, John and Arthur seem to bring devastation to everyone else around them: Lilly the buopoth, Oscar, Noel, Collins, Daniel, Larson and Yellow.

The arrival of Dies Irae musical motif in a film always indicates that death is approaching or that is has already struck— a host carrying its blight to spread onto others. Just like the musical motif, the arrival of Arthur and John foretells the near-arrival of death. They play a duet together— John and Arthur, and death— always singing and dancing around and with each other.

These two never succumb to death, always finding a way to slip through its fingers and survive every situation. But they cannot escape death's presence because they are death's partner— singing the melody to death's subtle harmony. They cannot escape death because they are its host— destined to carry and spread devastation to death's victims. From the moment you meet John and Arthur, you know that death is inevitably approaching just a step behind, waiting to strike you down.

Whether it's the religious or musical side, we can see that John and Arthur are the literal embodiment of these allusions. They carry these powers and ideas in their every action and word, in their every step, in their very breath and blood.

Arthur and John. The hands of God's justice. The enactors of divine fury.

Arthur and John. The hosts of blight and destruction. The partner of death's song.

The man himself. The voice inside his head.

The Day of Wrath. The Dies Irae.

[imbadatwrighting]

PAIRINGS: dean winchester x ditzy!winchester!reader, sam winchester x ditzy!winchester!reader

SUMMARY: Sam and Dean don’t take too nicely to someone judging their sister even when she’s pretending to be a fairy.

a/n: i need to start writing more so i get more comfortable with it 😭🙏 i feel like this is honestly crap but I’m trying you guys but anyways thx for requesting anon :)

The Winchester brothers knew they had to pick their battles carefully. They barely got you out of the motel bed, today wasn’t the day to criticize you about your choice in clothing. Not even when they noticed you putting on fairy wings.

Sam only sighed, grabbing your hairbrush and walking over to you. It seemed the excitement of your fairy outfit finally got you energized. Which would be fine if you weren’t bouncing excitedly on the bed. “Stop moving, baby,” he muttered, as he carefully brushed your hair.

It seemed to go in one ear and out the other as you stopped for a max of one minute before bouncing and squirming again. It was a struggle to comb through the nightmare that was your bed hair without causing you any pain but Sam managed to get it done. He started putting your hair into sections like always, planning on braiding your hair just like you always wanted. "No, no," you whined, shaking your head to make him drop the pieces. "Fairies don't braid their hair," you pouted.

"Are you sure, honey?" he asked but as you nodded your head, Sam relented, letting your hair drop and giving you a kiss on the top of your head. "Go wait in the car with Dean; I got to go get ready," Sam murmured.

You giggled as you rushed out of the room, grabbing your frog stuffy and the cassette tape you made yourself. Fairies loved frogs—or at least you thought they did.

It was a little bit of a struggle to get out the door with your fairy wings, but you managed. When you got outside you could see Dean sitting in the driver’s seat listening to some of his music. You scurried over to the impala, hopping in the backseat and holding out your cassette tape.

“Dee, put this in! Please!” you grinned, shaking the tape to get his attention. Dean glanced at the tape before a loud laugh escaped his lips and he gently pushed your arm away. You pouted, leaning forward to put it in yourself.

Dean grabbed your arm within a second, not letting you move it anymore. “Did you suddenly forget the rules, babygirl? Driver picks the music not his little sister.”

“Then pick this!” you nagged, trying to fight against your big brother’s grip with no avail. “I made it myself, you gotta, Dee!”

“No,” Dean hissed, his eyes sharp as he turned to look at you in the backseat. “You’re lucky I’m not making you change out of that ridiculous outfit. I am not putting in that damn cassette tape!”

Immediately, Dean Winchester knew he lost the battle. His eyes softening as your sad frown formed and your eyes got glassy in what seemed like one millisecond. “You don’t like my outfit?” you asked, your voice wobbly.

Dean seemed to pause, internally cursing at himself for making you upset. “Of course I do, sweetheart,” he replied quickly, not sure what to say without sounding like an asshole or liar. With a small sigh, he held out his hand. “Give me the tape,” he muttered.

Your smile overtook your once sad expression and next thing you know you were tossing the cassette tape to your brother. As much as Dean wanted to hate what was going on, he couldn’t find it in himself to hate it too much when you seemed so happy. Instead silently replacing the once rock music your “cooler” music.

“Enya? I didn’t know you liked her,” Sam teased as he opened the impala’s door and sat in the passenger seat, not reacting to the glare Dean sent his way. His green cotton shirt and jeans replaced with a cheap suit matching Dean’s.

“Shut up,” your oldest brother grumbled, starting the impala. The engine hummed loudly as Dean took off from the motel already breaking speed limits ten seconds into the drive.

The house the impala parked in front of almost made your eyes pop out of your head. Not because of the expensive decorations outside the house or the size of it but the fact that as you pulled up you noticed from a small glance they seemed to have a huge backyard. “Do you think they’ll let me play in their backyard?” you asked, already undoing your seatbelt.

“Wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Dean shrugged, grabbing his fake FBI badge as Sam handed it to him and stepping out of the car. “Just ask nicely,” Sam added, as he ran a hand over the slight wrinkles of his shirt.

You were nodding along, looking in adoration as you walked up the steps behind your brothers. Your eyes gazing on the small water fountain out front as the door opened. The woman opening the door was young, maybe early twenties at most and definitely not the owner of the house. Not like your brothers cared though, showing off their badges but not without a sly smile from Dean.

“I didn’t know the FBI worked with Tinkerbell to solve crimes nowadays,” the woman voiced as her eyes landed on you. Her eyebrow slightly raised at the fairy wings and flowing dress. You didn’t react to her words, already moving to sit on the swinging chair on the porch as soon as your eyes landed on it.

Dean looked down at his little sister before back up at the woman. “It’s bring your kid to work day,” he smiled albeit awkwardly. The woman seemed to accept that answer, giving you a small glance before opening her door wider, a wordless invite in.

Dean whistled as he started his way in, catching your attention. You stood back up following your brothers inside while humming a short tune and making sure your wings didn’t get stuck on the door.

It was a hassle to get any answers out of the woman as they sat in the living room. She beat around the bush with every question, clearly having no intention to be helpful, and meanwhile you wouldn’t stop mumbling out your tallest brother’s name, trying to get his attention nonstop, while he pretended to take notes as the woman went on a tangent.

“Shush, babygirl,” Dean muttered just loud enough for only you and Sam to hear. His foot giving yours a small tap. You rolled your eyes but didn’t continue, rather leaning back on the couch and grabbing Dean’s hand, fiddling with his fingers.

“Can I go out in your backyard?” you suddenly blurted out as you remembered your previous wish. The woman seemed slightly taken aback but then pursed her lips. “I don’t want you to like mess something up out there, but, um, you could play in the front. Just don’t… touch anything.” Sam couldn’t help but notice the underlying tone behind her overly sweet voice but you seemed too distracted to notice, or care.

You were up and out of the room in seconds, rushing off to let your imagination run wild. Neither Sam nor Dean took much notice in it, just happy you weren’t tripping and scrapping your knees. But the other woman in the room didn’t seem to share the same thoughts as your older brothers, seemingly distracted as Sam and Dean tried to question her about the paranormal activity. “Is she like… special? Because I don’t judge but I really don’t want her messing up the garden, you know?” The woman asked casually, turning her attention back to the boys in front of her.

The tension in the room became suffocating. Dean’s jaw clenched, his patience hanging by a thread, but it was Sam who spoke first. He straightened slightly, his voice sharp and incredulous. “Excuse me?” he said, narrowing his eyes at the woman.

She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged as though she hadn’t just stepped on a live wire. “My daddy says people like her are mentally defici—”

Dean’s boots thumped against the floor as he stood up and closed the space between them in a single, furious step. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, each word cutting through the air like a knife. His green eyes were alight with anger. “I don’t give a shit what your father says, don’t talk about her like that.”

Sam moved quickly, stepping in front of Dean and pressing a firm hand to his chest. “Agent Smith!” he snapped, his voice a warning. It wasn’t like he wasn’t pissed off by the woman’s behavior, but he’d rather not have the police called on them because Dean couldn’t watch his mouth.

Dean’s gaze didn’t leave the woman, his entire body rigid with barely restrained rage. “You don’t get to talk about her like that,” he spat, his voice shaking with emotion. “You don’t get to talk about her at all. Do you hear me?”

The woman, clearly startled, stumbled back a step, her face paling. Sam kept his hand on Dean’s chest, though his own anger simmered just below the surface. “We’re done here,” Sam said coldly, his voice steady despite the tension in his frame. He gave Dean a small push back before turning away, not sparing the woman another glance.

Dean didn’t move at first, his fury still radiating off him, but when he heard the barely audible giggle from the front yard, his shoulders sagged just slightly. He pulled away from Sam and turned after handing his keys to Sam to unlock the car door, muttering under his breath as he headed off to get you. “She’s lucky I don’t—”

“Dean,” Sam warned again, his voice softer this time, and Dean let out a huff as he walked out the door. He found you crouched by the garden, your fairy wings slightly askew as you played with a stick and a patch of dirt. Without a word, Dean bent down becoming face to face with you. “C’mon, kiddo,” he murmured, his voice gentler now. “We’re getting out of here.”

You stood up as Dean grabbed your hand, humming slightly as you realized you weren’t playing FBI anymore. You didn’t bother to ask any questions as you silently followed behind your oldest brother. You leaned into his chest, tucking your face into his jacket.

Dean led you to the Impala, even buckling you into the backseat, checking your wings and seatbelt before slamming the door shut. He climbed into the driver’s seat, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. Sam slid into the passenger seat, turning his head to give you a weak smile before it dropped as he turned his head forward once again.

The Impala roared to life, and for a few moments, the only sound was the engine and the soft crinkle of your wings as you adjusted yourself in the backseat.

Sam broke the silence first, his voice low but calm. “Dean, you didn’t need to go that far.” Dean’s eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, but his voice was unwavering. “Yes, I did,” he grumbled.

Sam didn’t argue, and after a beat, Dean’s voice softened as he glanced at the rearview mirror, where you played with your stuffed frog once more. “You good back there, princess?”

You grinned at him, and all of Dean’s earlier worries seemed to go forgotten. “Good, Dee,” you hummed.

Dean’s lips twitched into a small smile as he turned his attention back to the road. Sam leaned back in his seat with a heavy sigh, the tension finally easing as the Impala sped down the empty street, leaving the house—and the woman—far behind them.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Pop music: "I cant say no to those eyes" + Tangerine ❤❤❤

SKY'S 3K CELEBRATION

i hope you enjoy this, anon ✨💕

~ 🎶 ~

When you'd convinced Tangerine and Lemon to walk into the crazily decorated Halloween store Lemon had seemed rather pleased.

Tangerine, on the other hand, looked pissed.

"I hate these things," he mutters, touching the dull end of the bloodied prop knife as the animatronic struggles through its lines. "So corny."

You're practically skipping through the rows and rows of costumes, tongue stuck between your teeth as you concentrate. You can't even hear Tangerine's complaining or Lemon swatting his hand over his brother's head.

"Shut yer mouth, can't ya see she's enjoying herself?" Lemon hisses, motioning his head towards you.

Tangerine's gaze softens and he shoves Lemon away. He walks over and sees you rummaging through the costumes. You hand him a nurse one absentmindedly.

"Gonna patch me up real good, darlin'?" he teases, seeing how skimpy the costume looks. You don't answer him as you hand him another. A fairy costume this time and Tangerine's eyes widen at how much skin the model is showing.

"Bloody hell, luv. Ya want the whole neighborhood staring?"

"Tan," you warn him and he holds the costumes without complaint, muttering an apology. It really isn't his place to judge your choice of clothing.

Tangerine walks behind you like a lost puppy as you hand him various costumes you're debating choosing and Lemon snickers—which earns him a death glare from his brother.

"Oh!" You suddenly exclaim, grabbing a princess costume. It's just the right amount of cute and slutty. You turn, showing Tangerine. "Isn't it cute?!"

Tangerine nods, imagining you in that dress and he swallows. He drops the other costumes on the shelf and takes the princess one, looking it over. You grin, turning as you can the area.

"Aha!"

Tangerine watches you grab another costume and then you show it to him, grinning wider. It's a bodyguard costume. A plain black suit, an ear com, and some shades.

"What's that for?"

"For you! I'm the princess, and you're my bodyguard!" You sound giddy and Tangerine raises his eyebrows. He certainly doesn't mind having the task of watching over you when you're at a party. He does that anyways.

He looks at the stupid costume and scrunches his nose in disgust. "Can I wear my own suit?" he asks seriously.

Your eyes light up. "You're gonna dress up?!"

"Ya, in my suit," he teases.

"And the accessories?" You point to the ear com and the sunglasses.

"Maybe." He crosses his arms, sending you a smirk.

You bat your eyelashes at him.

Tangerine's resolve crumbles embarrassingly quickly. "Shit," he whispers, "you know I can't say no to those eyes." He reaches up and his finger tips skim your cheek gently. "I'll dress up as your bodyguard, sweetheart, hm? Keep ya safe? Is that what you want?"

He's teasing but you nod and lean into his touch. You're smiling so wide he's concerned for your poor cheeks but his chest fills with warmth. He laughs when you grab the costumes and rush over to show Lemon.

Tangerine can almost hear Lemon's future taunts when he finds out how quickly he folded for you but he doesn't care.

Fuck, he's really in deep now.

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @longlivedelusion, @thewinterv, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader, @simplyreflected, @kpopgirlbtssvt

[iluvmattsbeard]

nobody knows like me (c.s)

master list

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: nothing!

preview: you knew you weren’t like everyone else. Chris loved that about you. he loved that you were carefree and in the moment of everything. Chris’ friends on the other hand, thinks you’re a bit too much, judging you from the get go. you over hear one of their conversations and it crushes your spirit.

a/n: LIKES, COMMENTS, AND REBLOGS ARE VERY APPRECIATED!

you and Chris have been together for a couple of months now. you guys were brought together randomly as you bumped into each other on a random afternoon when Chris was on his daily walk. he accidentally bumped shoulders with you, causing you to drop the paper bag that you had filled with fresh produce from the farmer's market onto the ground. when you bumped into each other, he was already captivated by your natural beauty and your unique style. he helped you pick up the fallen items as he repeatedly apologized. you laughed softly at him as you reassured him it was okay.

as you both continued in small talk, Chris eventually asked for your number. he promised you he would make up for the lost fruit that fell out of your bag and you took his word for it. after exchanging numbers, you guys eventually went on dates and he got to know you personally. he noticed little things you did that were unique that he admired. you were always radiating positivity and you never not had a smile on your face. every room you walked into, you lit up in his eyes.

the first time you hung out, he took you out for breakfast as you ordered smiley face pancakes and a large strawberry milkshake. he looks at your food and back at you. you had the biggest smile on your face like a little kid, making him laugh softly to himself. as time went by, he found out you and him were like children at heart. he admired the fact you still had that childish feeling. it made him feel like he could live without constant worries and fears. for halloween, every girl was in seductive costumes as you showed up in a bob ross costume. Chris’ reaction was priceless. he was not expecting you to show up in an afro and beard. “this is incredible.” he says with a smile. “i know. i’m painting you a visual of what you’ll be receiving down the road.” you say waving your paint brush around which made him laugh at your cheesy choice of words.

when walking down the street, you would see little bugs in the grass which you would pick up and freak Chris out. “Y/n get that away from me.” he says with a nervous look. you had a sneaky smile as you started to chase him with the bug in your hand. “how are you even holding that thing?!” Chris says loudly as he continues running. “it’s a little friend! it wants to say hi Chris!” you say chasing him. he starts to scream high pitched which caused you to stop and burst into laughter. when you knew Chris would be stressed, you knew how to get rid of it. you would lift him up onto his feet and play music, forcing him to dance out the worries and problems. which at first he thought was ridiculous but once he saw you dance, he couldn’t help but smile and dance with you in the same weird way. every moment with you was filled with laughter and joy.

it was like a magical spell you had him in. the more time he spent with you, the more he was attached to you and missed you every time you weren’t near. he could think of more memories he has but those were just a few that stood out to him. you made him feel comfortable and uncomfortable in a good way. you pushed him to do things he couldn’t do on his own. you were his biggest supporter and motivator.

Chris was sitting down on his couch as he hears the door bell ring. he knew it was you. you guys had plans to hang out with his friends today. it was going to be the first time they would meet you. Chris gets up from the couch as he opens the door. as soon as he locked eyes with you, he immediately lit up. every time you were around, he always felt a boost of serotonin. "hey beautiful." he greets you, instantly pulling you in for a hug. you grew a big smile as you embraced him with a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck, "hello handsome." you pull away still smiling as you continue to speak, "i'm sorry for running late." he chuckles as he notices the flowers in your hair.

you always walked to his house. on the way, you always picked the prettiest flowers to put in your hair. "yellow flowers this time." he says tucking a strand behind your ear. "yeah it matches my outfit!" you say twirling around to show off your long white skirt, a yellow patterned tube top, and a cream cardigan. he lets out a soft laugh, "I love it." you walk over to the kitchen as you sat at the bar stool, "so, when will we meet up with your friends?" you ask. "we're going to meet them later at Nate's house. he's throwing a little get together." he replies sitting next to you. you turn your body to face him, "are you excited?" he asks.

"of course I am! i've been wanting to meet them. your family was so kind to me when I first met them, i'm expecting to click with your friends as well." you say with a smile. "that's good. I've been talking about you constantly. they can't wait to finally meet you." he replies holding your hand. "well I can't wait to meet them! i'm just going to be me." you say as he lets out a soft laugh, placing a kiss on your cheek, "that's how it always should be. just you being you." he says with a smile.

“i’m going to warn you right now. they can be a bit much. so if you feel overwhelmed just tell me okay?” he says. you let out a small laugh before responding, “Chris, i’ll be good.” “okay i’m just letting you know.” he responds.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

you and Chris arrive at Nate’s house. you both stood in front of the door as you hear muffled music playing behind the door. Chris looks down at you as he smiles, “you ready?” he asks. “of course i am.” you say with a smile. he stares at you for a bit as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, just like earlier. he then rings the door bell.

you see the door open as you were greeted by a girl, “Chris! you made it!” she says. “hi Madi. is everyone here?” he asks. “you know it.” she then focuses her eyes onto you, “you must be Y/n!” she says smiling. she greets you with a hug as you embrace her back, “yes i am!” you reply. she then pulls away, “Chris talks about you nonstop. you are definitely a natural beauty.” she says. she then focuses her eyes on your hair. your hair was long and curly, sort of “untamed”. you still had the flowers in your hair from earlier. she looks at them as she just ignores it. “thank you so much. you are gorgeous.” you say back to her. all she does is thank you with a smile.

you and Chris step inside as you look around. you noticed that everyone had the same type of vibe. if Chris ever lost you in the crowd, he would definitely spot you from your brightly colored clothes. the music was loud as Chris was leading you the way to find more of his friends. eventually meeting up with a few guys. “hey guys.” Chris says smiling as he lets go of your hand, greeting each of his friends. you stood there as you notice his friends’ eyes on you. you could tell they weren’t use to your presence. “this is my girlfriend Y/n.” Chris adds on, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. you smile before speaking, “hi, it’s nice to meet you guys.”

Chris POV

Y/n greets my friends as i notice them looking at her in a weird way. they were looking at her clothes and at her hair. “hello, i’m Nate.” Nate says while taking a sip of his drink. “i’m Baylen.” the rest of my friends introduce themselves as Y/n just smiles, “i’ll try to remember those names.” she says. they all just laugh at her response. “Chris tells me about you guys all the time. it’s great to know he has such good friends.” she says. the guys just look at her and smile awkwardly as Nate responds only, “same with you.” that’s odd.

I could tell Y/n was trying her best to keep conversations but none of my friends wanted to keep it going. “Y/n? do you want to grab a drink and chit chat?” Madi asks her. Y/n looks at her and smiles, “of course!” she says with her cheerful voice. she looks at me as i smile, which let her know i was fine here. they walk away as i watch them head towards the kitchen. i hear some of the guys laugh as i turn to face them, “what’s so funny?” i ask out of curiosity. “dude, where did you get her from?” Baylen asks. i raise an eyebrow, “what do you mean by that?” they all look at each other and back at me, “Chris, are you not seeing what we’re seeing?” says someone in the group. “what about it?” i ask. “she looks like she just stepped out from some hippie delusion.” Nate says, making everyone burst out into laughter.

i stood there unamused from his words, “how could you just judge her from the way she’s dressed?” i ask with a blank stare. “yeah that’s kind of rude of you Nate.” Nick says stepping in. “Chris is happy with her and she’s more than just the appearance.” he finishes. Nate just scoffs taking another sip from his drink. i look at my brother, “thank you Nick.” i say. he just nods as a response. “all i’m saying Chris, girls practically line up to try and get a chance with you.” Baylen says. i just give a confused look, “so? i’m happy with where i’m at.” i say. i then notice the groups attention wonder somewhere else as i go to look as well.

End of Chris’ POV

you joined the crowd as they danced around you. you were with Madi as she watched you dance. you didn’t know how to dance at all so the way you moved, came off a little different. you moved your body a bit weird which made people stare and laugh. you didn’t notice the stares as you continued to dance and have fun in your mind.

it catches Chris’ friends eyes and also Chris himself’s eyes. Chris watched you as he chuckled a bit to himself. he saw you were having fun with no care whatsoever and that’s what made him love being with you. you were so care free and you didn’t let stupid stares stop you from enjoying your time. “i’ve never seen someone move like that before.” Nate says holding in a laugh. “she’s something.” one of the guys say causing Chris to tense up. “she’s just having fun.” Chris mutters out. he stands there as he continues to admire you.

Chris POV

why did they have to make stupid comments? typical immaturity. this is one of the reasons why i didn’t want to introduce her. my friends are too insecure to handle a girl like Y/n. i just think everyone who’s staring is intimidated by the fact she knows how to let loose. i notice Y/n starts to slowly stop her movements as she looks around at the people looking at her. she shifted uncomfortably as she kept an awkward smile.

Y/n’s POV

i was never the type to care about what anybody had to say about me but, being here with the people Chris surrounds himself with, staring at me like i’m some type of weird disease, made me start to overthink a little bit. the one thing i don’t want is to embarrass Chris. so i stopped myself a bit as i walked away from the dance floor. “Y/n! where are you going?” Madi says chasing after me. “what’s wrong?” she asks holding onto my arm. i turn to look at her, “i just got tired of dancing that’s all.” i say with a fake smile. “do you want more to drink?” Madi asks. “just water is fine.” i say as she leads me to the kitchen, handing me a water bottle. “i should head back to Chris.” i say after taking a sip.

“okay! they’re still at the same spot they were at.” Madi says with a smile. i turn to leave the kitchen to head towards the group. as i was going to turn the corner i stopped myself once i heard their laughter and words. “yeah she dresses funny, yeah she’s a bit weird, and yeah she’s quite unique…” i hear Chris say. everything else i blocked out because i felt a sudden saddened confusion. why would he call me out like that in front of his friends? i could hear their taunting laughters which caused my eyes to build up with tears as i head out the front door.

Chris POV

“yeah she dresses funny, yeah she’s a bit weird, and yeah she’s quite unique-.” i say but got caught off from one of the guys. “that’s for sure.” which caused the group to laugh. “let him speak.” Matt sternly says. i shake my head as i continue to speak, “yeah she’s all those things but, i know how she truly is. she’s fun and she’s care free and i love that about her. she’s more than her appearance and her goofy antics. if you guys would’ve given her a chance, you would’ve understood.” i say before leaving to go find Y/n.

i looked around for a bit and i couldn’t seem to find her. i bump into Madi and notice they’re not together, “where’s Y/n?” i ask. she just shrugs, “i don’t know. she said she was going to find you.” she says. i nod and walk away confused. i soon step outside to see if she could be there and notice her sat down on the side walk. she was taking out the flowers in her hair, throwing them onto the street. i walk up to her and sit down next to her, instantly noticing the tears down her face, “Y/n? what’s wrong?” i ask with a worried expression. she just shakes her head and continues to cry. i go to hold her hand but she pulls away. i look into her eyes as i try to figure out what’s wrong, “did i do something?” i ask. “i heard what you said in there.” she says. “you did?” i say confused, “then why are you crying?” she looks at me with the same confused look, “w-what do you mean? i heard you call me weird and that i dress funny like i didn’t already know that. you didn’t have to call me out like that. i know i’m-.” i cut her off with a small laugh as she glares at me. “Y/n, did you stay for the whole conversation?” i ask.

she shakes her head, “no but all i know is that i understand now. i get i embarrassed you in front of your friends.” i smile as i hold her hand, “Y/n you didn’t embarrass me. if you stayed you would’ve heard me say that so what if you’re all those things? you’re more than just your appearance and your goofy antics.” i say causing her to roll her eyes. “hey just listen.” i say with a small laugh. “i told them they don’t know you like how i do. which is fine because you don’t have to prove yourself to them with how amazing you are, because i know. i know how truly amazing you are.” i say which makes her expression soften. “yeah you’re not like everyone else, so what? that’s what made me fall in love with you.” i say which catches her off guard. i never expressed my love to anybody before. she knew that.

“there’s something about you Y/n that makes me feel like the luckiest guy ever.” i say rubbing her hand with my thumb. i look on the side of me, seeing a pretty flower which causes me to pick it up and tuck it behind her ear. she smiles and more tears flow down her cheeks, “i love you Y/n.” i say wiping her tears gently which causes her to let out a soft laughter, “you really mean that Chris?” she says sniffling with a weak smile. “my love grows for you everyday. i really mean it.” i say which makes her even sob more, embracing me in a hug. “i love you too Chris. that is the sweetest thing anybody has ever said to me.” she says as i rub her back softly.

i just had to tell her that i love her. she truly doesn’t understand how she makes me feel. my friends? i don’t care if they don’t see her the way i do because nobody knows like me.

a/n: i don’t know i just thought this was a cute idea 😅

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Bonus Part — Fin x Reader.

Summary: A reimagining of how things would have gone if Reader had decided she wanted Fin — despite him being her friend’s father.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Heavy on the smut. 18+, minors dni. Some jealous and possessiveness. Mentions of forbidden relationships/affairs. If the choices Reader makes in this are something you’re against, I urge you not to read! 🫶🏻

Rita’s is like no other place you’ve been — or seen — before.

Is this what you’ve missed out on, trapped within the frozen maw of Windhaven? There is no place like this there, of such vibrancy and euphoria. The music, the coloured faelights, the energy — it all makes you feel…on top of the world.

Like there’s life outside the misery you’ve known.

Mor knocks a shot back, grimacing as she slams the empty glass onto the bar. A sudden burst of giggles leaves her as she says, “My father would have my head if he could see me right now. Literally.”

You don’t doubt that for a second, because Mor looks resplendent, not just in her natural beauty, but her joy. She has danced and drank and kissed and danced some more. And seeing her like this…it makes you glad that she convinced you to come out with her tonight.

“My father would have my head, too,” you tell her over the music. “I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

At that, she rolls her eyes, and she reaches for two more shots. “Here’s to saying fuck the males,” she knocks her glass against yours. “May they all perish.”

You’ll happily drink to that. With the alcohol that has you in its grip, you’re buzzed on thoughts of storming back to Windhaven and confronting all your demons. Confronting anyone and everyone who has ever hurt you and made you feel less than you are. Your father. Lord Devlon. Azriel—

You banish that thought as the liquid slides down your throat with a satisfying burn. You are in Velaris, not Windhaven. A new place with new people, where anything feels possible. The thought is heady and dizzying.

Someone calls Mor’s name, and she glances over her shoulder, her beautiful eyes lighting up again. You truly don’t know how often she’s able to escape the Hewn City and get away to Velaris, but judging by the amount of friends she’s introduced you to tonight, she’s certainly made her mark here.

“Let’s go dance with them!” Mor yells over the music, grabbing your hand.

You think that dancing might be the answer to everything you’ve never known, and so you gladly follow; gladly throw yourself into the thrall of the busy floor.

But that’s when you see him.

Something…some deep power…compels you to look up. Coaxes your eyes to that area a level above, where the city’s VIP guests spend copious amounts of money on copious amounts of alcohol and drink it from their cushy velvet booths. They’re reserved for associates of the High Lord, a not-so-formal place to meet to discuss not-so-casual things.

But none of that matters. There could be an entire circus up there right now, and still all you would notice is — him.

He notices you, too.

The High Lord’s eyes zero in on you from up above. You watch, rooted to the spot, as he takes in the sight of you, from your braided back hair, to your painted face, your dress and the legs exposed by them. He looks like…like he’s finally setting his sights upon an image that was merely fantasy up until now.

He braces his arms on the balustrade. And he just stares.

You want to know what he’s doing here. Whether he’s at Rita’s for business or…or for pleasure. You’ve heard that there are rooms upstairs for people willing to pay the price. Perhaps there’s a lover up there with him somewhere, waiting to explore every last inch of that glorious, sculpted body—

The bleating jealousy that makes your heart twist is…unexpected. And not ideal; not one bit.

He is Rhysand’s father. Things may have been fucked up royally with Azriel, and you may have been burned by the experience — but Fin is Rhysand’s father.

Your friend’s father.

Your friend’s father who has just so happened to help keep you feeling alive these past weeks. With his layers-deep allure, the sweet, sweet words that roll off his tongue. His hospitality, his generosity. His kindness. All of it, you’d attributed to him being a natural charmer, a High Lord who knows precisely what to say, what to do.

It strikes you in that moment — just how much it’s all sunk its way into your bones and made you feel…dangerous.

He watches you like a cat with a mouse. Watches as somebody grabs your hand and yanks you into the tightly knit dancing bodies. The music pulses through you from head to toe, a frenzied tune of strings and keys that somehow come together to create the feeling of being borne aloft. Being on top of the world.

As you become lost to the sensation of dance, you’re glad to forget all your thoughts about Fin. You don’t want to wonder what he’s doing here. You don’t want to imagine what those strong, rough hands might get up to, where they might venture.

You become sandwiched between two males who dance with you in a way that makes you forget your wings were ever stolen. They touch you and touch each other, and you welcome it all, happy to be someone, somewhere, else. At least for a while.

But there’s suddenly a foreign touch to your shoulder. That of a cold, meaty hand that stills your movements and draws your attention. The two males happily slink away and begin grinding on each other, and you spin on the spot to find a tall, stocky male who looks like he punches people in the face for the hell of it.

“Y/N?” He checks, and you nod. “The High Lord wishes to speak with you. Upstairs.”

You glance over your shoulder, eyes searching for Mor and finding her just as she’s following a male and female to a cloaked-off area at the back. That’ll be her occupied for the remainder of the night. You’re officially going solo.

But not for long. Not as the bouncer juts his chin in the direction of the staircase and begins to lead you there. Perhaps it makes you a fool, but you follow without a word.

He pulls back a rope and gestures for you to go on up, and then he’s refastening it behind you and turning back to train a keen eye on the dance floor. It’s purely the alcohol that hits you with enough of an ego to climb those stairs like you belong amongst the chandeliers and velvet booths.

But you look good — amazing, even. You know you do. And looking like this, things like scars and other insecurities seem so trivial. You’ve taken back the right to feel as beautiful as you are. You wear your Illyrian features proudly, and you’re pretty and lithe and graceful—

And your heel catches on the top step of the staircase, almost sending you sprawling to the floor — if not for the warm hand that catches your elbow.

“Easy.” Fin rasps into your ear, setting you steady on your feet.

Your numbed, inebriated senses are not immune to the effect of his voice, it would seem. The deep baritone, rough as jagged rock, pushes its way into your skin, your veins, and spreads far faster than any alcohol could.

“Pardon me, my Lord,” you answer, and you’re unable to shove down the hysterical giggle that claws up your throat. “Fuck, you’re the High Lord.”

He cocks a dark eyebrow. “And you are drunk.”

“The whiskey they serve here is immense.”

“I’ll be sure to extend your compliments to Rita herself.”

Is that, you wonder, who he’s up here meeting? Perhaps the elusive Rita is a close associate of his. Perhaps they do deals in both business and pleasure.

And taking in your fill of the High Lord right now, in a dark button-up shirt and fitted breeches of a slate grey, you would not blame Rita one little bit.

Gods, he’s exquisite. Rhysand may resemble Roza more than he does Fin, but…with two parents of such stunning beauty, it’s no wonder your friend is as handsome as he is.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you make no secret of the way your eyes linger on him. Tonight is dangerous, and you’re enjoying it.

“Nor I, you,” he narrows his gaze down at you. “Imagine my surprise, considering that when I left the palace earlier this evening, you were curled up in the library with a book. And yet, here you are. Wearing…” mahogany eyes take in the short cut of your dress, “…that.”

“Mor surprised me with a visit.”

“My niece ought to be more careful not to press her father’s buttons too much,” a muscle in his chiselled jaw ticks. “And I think you ought to be more careful not to push mine.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Bold. So foolishly bold of you. You’ll regret it once sober, you’re sure. “Was there a particular reason you summoned me up here, my Lord? I was rather enjoying dancing.”

“I noticed. And I’m taking you home.”

“What—”

Before you can even finish the word, Fin’s gripping your elbow again, and darkness sweeps you away.

Being winnowed while drunk is not a fun experience.

You feel the cosmic, air-light step from one place to another. Your stomach lurches, your head spinning. You can barely get a hold of yourself as you cling to Fin and prepare your feet to touch solid ground.

And then the darkness is gone, and you’re back in the toasty, warm glow of the palace’s library. Your knees buckle, trying to drag you to the floor, but Fin keeps you upright.

“What the…” you gawp up at him. “Why did you bring me home?”

He ensures you’re able to stand on your feet before pushing away from you. Doesn’t even look at you as he commands, “Get to bed.”

“I was enjoying myself.”

“Just as those males were enjoying you, too. You’re drunk and you need to sleep it off. Get to bed.”

He strides towards the door, his knuckles white from how hard he grips the hilt of the sword sheathed at his side. But sword or no, you refuse to give up so easily.

“No,” you say simply. “I will not.”

Fin stops. Goes still. And then he turns back to you.

His temper is clear on his face, but he doesn’t storm back over like you’re half expecting him to. Instead, his eyes shutter, and he seems to take a deep, soothing breath. When he’s looking at you once more, he flicks his wrist in your direction.

And immediately, gone is the haze of the alcohol.

Immediately, you’re completely lucid, completely steady on your feet. Not a lick of inebriation remains, as if you had, indeed, slept it off.

“Did you just sober me up?” you’re outraged by the mere idea.

“Yes.” Fin admits shamelessly. “Now you won’t fall victim to a hangover in the morning — a favour from me, to you, and I ask you in return to get to bed. And don’t even think about trying to venture back out. I’ll know.”

Your blood boils. And the anger isn’t simply because of your ruined fun, but because…because it stings, the way Fin is treating you with such contempt. Scolding you like you’re little more than a petulant child. He’s been nothing but wonderful since you came to Velaris, and yet now, he speaks to you like…like most of the males back in Windhaven do.

It makes you see red.

“What right have you to dictate how I spend my evening?” you snap. “I was under the impression that my free time is my own, and if I wish to go and get drunk and dance like a fool, that is up to me.”

Cold, beautiful anger hardens Fin’s face. He stalks closer, squeezing the hilt of that sword so, so tightly. “What right have I? This is my home. My city. My court. I am your High Lord, and you choose to behave in such a way when I’ve opened my home to you and offered you refuge? When I’ve given you a place to run to and left my resources at your disposal?”

You rock back on the heels of your feet, staring at him. Every word lands a hit — as good as if he’d nocked them in a bow and fired them right at your heart. It stings. Gods, it stings. You want the careless oblivion of the alcohol back.

Because you grapple daily with the pain, the anxiety, of feeling unwanted. And you…you had begun to think that Fin actually cared for you. Actually enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his.

You’d begun to care about his thoughts and feelings where you were concerned. And begun to believe that it wasn’t just the hospitality and courtesy that he would dole out to any runt on the street.

His eyes seem to track the way your expression changes, your shoulders slump. You swallow. The anger is replaced, simply, by hurt.

“If I am a burden, my Lord, I apologise,” you rasp. “I don’t intend to be one. I appreciate your generosity, and I…I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”

You hope you can keep your tears at bay long enough to escape to your room. You’re pelted with shame, embarrassment, hurt. You step forward and hurry past the High Lord, desperate to book it out of there, to get to bed.

But his hand encloses around your wrist, tugging you to a stop. And he says, quietly, “wait.”

That hand on your wrist holds the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

You pin your gaze to the ground, unable to look at Fin. You hear him swallow.

“That isn’t—” his voice is gravelly. “I didn’t mean that.”

You don’t think you can speak. You remain a statue beneath his touch.

But so gently — such a contrast to the whirlwind of his actions before — he’s walking you backwards. Slow and careful. You feel your back hit the wall, and he lets go of your wrist and seems to curl his fists at his sides. There’s a desperation to the action that only then coaxes you to look up at him.

His expression is…pleading. For what, you’re not sure.

“You are the furthest thing from a burden,” he says, quietly, on an exhale. “Your presence here is very much welcomed, I assure you.”

You don’t dare breathe a word. Every last bit of your very sober courage is being thrown into maintaining eye contact. There’s none to spare for speaking.

But your lack of response seems to trouble Fin. His eyes rake over your face, searching for something. He swallows again.

And then his eyes shutter, and he whispers, “Mother above, what are you doing to me?”

You don’t know how to answer him — whether he’s even talking to you at all. He takes in a very slow, very deep breath, as though it’s the only thing that’s stopping him from…doing something. What, you’re not sure.

But you can feel it, sense it — the ferocity with which he’s swallowing down words and holding himself back. Like he wants so badly to say something, but can’t.

His eyes open, clearer than they were seconds before, and he says in a far gentler tone, “Get to bed, Y/N,” he inclines his head. “Sleep well.”

With tense, squared shoulders, he turns — and it’s you, this time, that stops him. You halt him with a hand on his arm, and you could swear you feel the muscles flex under his touch.

“Wait,” you say, not ready to let him go, not prepared to leave things between you like this. “Stay and talk with me for a while.”

His jaw clenches like he’s gritting his teeth. “That isn’t a good idea.”

“Why? We talk all the time, you and I. And there are clearly things you’re holding back from saying—”

Your words are cut short as he suddenly meets your gaze with the intensity of a blazing fire. You think it might burn you. You hope it will.

“It’s a bad idea,” he grounds out, gutturally, “not because of what I want to say. But because of what I want to do.”

“What—”

“You are my son’s close friend. You are Roza’s guest,” he tugs his arm out from under your hand. “You are far younger than I am. I am trying my hardest — I have been trying my hardest — to be a good male. And right now, a good male would take his leave and go to bed, so I bid you goodnight, Y/N.”

“Fin—”

“I hope you sleep well.”

“Fin,” you grab for him again. “What if I don’t want you to be a good male?”

Beneath your touch, he stops. Goes preternaturally still.

Words punch out of you with terrifying gall — and truth. “What if I want you to do those things—”

Quick as a flash, he’s pivoting, and he has the upper hand. Has you pressed so tightly up against the wall, his body boxing you in.

And gods, the feel of it might set you on fire. A brush of your hands, a kiss on the backs of your fingers — they’re nothing compared to the weight and press of his muscles against your body. You want your clothes to melt away, and his, too. You want your hands on his bare, hot skin.

“I don’t think you realise what you’re saying,” he growls.

“I do,” you breathe. “I am completely sober. Completely clear of mind. And I am telling you, Fin, I want you—”

A strangled noise is the only warning you get before the High Lord’s mouth is on yours.

The kiss is pure power. It passes from him, into you, roils through your veins and makes you feel like somebody remarkable. It’s the cloak of darkness and the kiss of sin. Of somebody capable of very, very bad things.

And it’s immediately addicting. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to get enough.

You claw at his shirt, tugging him closer, closer, and his broad hands cup your face as his mouth devours yours.

This kiss…it’s been building. The need for it has been working its way beneath your skin for a while. All the heated glances, the late-night conversations. All the thoughts, in the dead of night, of what Fin might be doing in his own bed. Wondering whether he was thinking of you.

It’s so, so forbidden. So wrong. But it feels so godsdamn right.

And the way Fin’s tongue slides between your lips and strokes into your mouth — it tells you that he feels it, too.

Your hands glide from his waist, round to his back, and you yank him harder against you. So desperate are you to feel him. Feel what you think you do to him.

He makes another low noise. And then he’s tearing his mouth from yours. But he lingers close, your foreheads touching.

“Better than I’ve been imagining,” he pants, his hands still clutching your face. “Much better.”

“You’ve imagined kissing me?” You know he has.

“I have imagined,” his thumbs sweep your cheeks, “doing all sorts of things with you, Y/N. Things that would make even the most salacious of a person blush.”

Such a relief — to know that it’s not all just some wild fantasy you’ve cooked up in your mind. That you’re not just some wayward, longing young female who craves the affections of an older male to patch her deep wounds.

No, it’s not that. It’s desire. It’s need. And it burns inside your veins until you think you might erupt into flames.

“I’ve imagined them, too,” you say, without a lick of shame.

Once again, his eyes are shuttering. Once again, he takes that slow, steadying breath. And as you watch him do so, you can’t bear the thought of him still grappling with right and wrong. You can’t bear the thought of him squaring his shoulders and walking out of here, leaving your lips bruised, your body aching, your heart hurting. You can’t bear it—

“I want you to do those things,” you lift your chin, gaze unflinching. “I want you to touch me.”

Fin’s eyes reopen.

He stares at you.

His throat bobs.

You have never seen somebody look so wild, so ravenous. There is heat everywhere, in his stare and in his taut body. His eyes flick down to your lips.

That mere glance at them is the deciding factor, it would seem.

He growls, the sound not at all one you’ve ever heard from a person, and he yanks you up into his arms and kisses you again.

So naturally, your arms twine around his neck, your legs locking around his waist. You can feel the strength of him against you, in the way he holds you. You can taste his crackling power.

He doesn’t falter in the kiss nor his steps as he carries you away from the wall, and you’re suddenly being placed down on the library’s desk, sending books and parchment and pens and ink pots flying. They all clatter loudly to the floor, and neither of you care.

But Fin does pull away to look at you, and there’s wicked, boyish charm in his eyes as the corners of his mouth twitch up. He merely says, “Oops.”

You surge up and kiss him again.

He sighs into it, like your mouth is the answer to all his questions. And when heated hands land on your thighs, you part them, allow him to slot his body in between. The mere feel of it has you pushing up against him, finding him hard—

But again, he pulls away. He scans your face and rasps, “Tell me you’re sure.”

You do not balk from his intensity. From the fact that this is the fucking High Lord of your court, who was changing this world and building a reputation long before you were a mere thought in your parents’ minds. You do not balk from the fact that there are a million different reasons that this is wrong.

You think only about the fact that it feels right.

And that translates into your voice as you say, firmly, “I’m sure.”

You think you see the words course through his body. They change something — forever.

“This isn’t about Roza,” he breathes — breathes heavily, like it’s taking everything to tamp down on the desire to devour you then and there. To say what needs to be said.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Nor is it about Rhysand.”

“No.”

“It’s about me and you.” He destroys what little gap exists between your bodies, his hardness pushing through his breeches, right up against your centre. His hands brace on the desk, either side of you. “And gods, I want you, Y/N. I want you so much, I can scarcely bear it.”

“Have me,” is all you manage — before he strikes.

You think, hope, that his mouth might find yours again — but he’s barely brushing it before his lips settle on your jaw. His hands travel up your legs, fingers biting into the flesh. They find your hips, thumbs delivering explorative sweeps. They tug your dress up as they climb, exposing more of you to the warmth of the room. Exposing more skin that you know he wants to lay claim to.

And when the hem of your dress is ruched around your waist, you smile — at your little wildcard exposed. That he finds no underwear hiding what sits between your legs.

Your choice to forgo a pair seems almost foretelling, now — like some part of you knew the night would end like this, and you wanted to be ready.

Fin’s eyes dip to your slick, exposed cunt. The hunger in them is almost intimidating. You open your legs just a little wider—

But his rough hand is gripping your chin, almost hard enough to hurt. And he snarls deeply, “It drove me to madness — seeing those two males dancing with you. Touching you.”

Pleasure bolts down your spine, and from the way his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your arousal is consuming him.

“Did it?” you stare back at him, welcoming the discomfort of his brutal grip.

“I wanted them dead. I wanted to draw my sword and gut them for even looking your way. For touching what I want to be mine.”

That pleasure again — skittering over your skin. His words do something to you. You bite down on a moan.

“It is yours,” you tilt your chin up to him, smiling when he immediately glances to your lips. “Take it.”

“I warn you,” he lowers his face to yours, “I don’t like to share.”

“And I warn you, High Lord,” you watch as your words land, drawing a deep, raw scent from him. “Neither do I.”

With a growl, he snaps. The kiss he gives you is not slow or sweet. His hand continues to grip your face, and his mouth attacks yours, his tongue sliding between your lips. You can’t help your moan, this time, as his taste overpowers you — a taste that you can only describe as pure thunder.

But it ends too soon, as he begins to leave a trail of heated kisses and bites and sucks along your jaw, down your neck, your collarbones. Your head falls back, and the touches are like little zips of lightning — lightning cleaving through the night sky.

“Pretty dress,” he hums against your skin — and that’s all the warning you get before that dress is ripped apart. Torn to ribbons.

No part of you is left to Fin’s imagination.

He tears his mouth from you and steps back to drink you in.

Instinct roars at you to curl in on yourself and hide. To remember that you are scarred, and flawed, and not to the liking of many — including yourself, a lot of the time.

But something about Fin’s weighty, scorching stare stops you from moving a muscle.

You lift your chin and hide nothing as he takes his fill. His eyes travel a journey from the top of your head and down — down your face, your neck, your breasts. Down your stomach, your waist, your hips. Down to that fine dusting of hair on your pelvis that tracks a thin path to—

Fin drops to his knees with a low noise. His hands wrap around your legs and prise them further apart.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he levels his face with the very centre of you, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight.

The sight of the High Lord on his knees before you — on his knees for you.

As though he senses the direction of your thoughts, his eyes flick up, and he smiles.

And then he dives in.

His tongue wastes no time in sinking between your folds, licking a broad stripe right up the centre of you. At the first stroke, your head falls back, your arms wobbling where they’re braced on the desk.

“Look at me,” Fin growls. “Only me.”

His voice of pure High Lord power drags your eyes back to him. And thank the fucking Mother it does.

You see everything in the way he feasts on you. His tongue laps at your wetness, and it coats his lips, his chin, coats him in you. The damp heat of his tongue is liquid fire. It promises to scorch you, end you, and rise you anew like a phoenix from the ashes.

Your fingers sink into the strands of Fin’s hair and tug. Judging by the noise he makes, the way his pace picks up, you think he likes it.

He utterly fucking devours you, like he’s fought a centuries-long wait to do so. And whatever magic commands his mouth — you know you cannot possibly last against it.

“Oh, gods,” your moan breaks from you, hips bucking up. You think your voice might be loud, but you don’t care. “Fuck—Fin.”

It all happens at once — his name falling from your lips, the growl rumbling in his throat, the flicking of his tongue against your clit and the finger he plunges into you, curls inside you. Every part of it is lightning strikes to your veins, and you come apart, utterly break.

Your climax slams into you and steals your breath. You’re nothing but a gasping, panting, trembling shell. Your mind is somewhere else entirely.

With your head falling back, eyes pinned to the ceiling, chest heaving, you don’t catch the swiftness with which Fin stands, licking your wetness from his lips. With which his clothes are gone in a blink of an eye.

But then he commands, “Look at me.”

It’s the second time he’s said it. Your head lolls forward once more.

You swallow the breaths you’re still trying to get down. Try to stop your body fucking shaking.

But it’s no wonder it does, as you look at him.

Your High Lord is nothing short of exquisite. He is art. Your fantasies have done him no justice.

That golden skin of his seems to attract the glowing light of the room. It bathes him, but it does not steal the attention. It outlines every fine plane of his body, the sculpted muscles on show, the nicks of injuries that have scarred and silvered over time.

There is not a single part of him that isn’t pure, refined power. And when your gaze drops to below his waist…a shudder wracks through you.

His cock stands hard and leaking at the head. You watch, your mouth watering, as he wraps a hand around its length and gives a long stroke.

“Fin—”

“When you look at me like that,” he prowls closer, “there is no way I can consider this forbidden.”

He’s within reach. Your fingers inch towards him. You want to touch him, taste him—

But he curls a hand around yours and stops you in your tracks.

“Not tonight,” he says. Pure promise is laced within the words. “No playing tonight.”

As if he hadn’t just played with you. You want to protest, to get your fucking mouth around that considerable length, but his hand tightens around yours.

And then he’s flipping you over, so fast that you don’t have time to even register it. You land on your front, your belly and breasts pressed against the desk. Fin lays his palm against your back and drags it slowly down. And in the wake of his touch, he leaves kisses. Kisses to your shoulder, your back. They’re…soft. Tender.

“Have I disappointed you?” he murmurs against your shoulder, folding his body over yours. You don’t think it’s an accident that the head of his cock nudges that sweet area between your legs.

It’s all you can do to breathe, “I wanted to taste you.”

“And you will,” he drops the brush of a kiss to your skin. “But now is not time for that.”

You don’t need him to tell you what now is the time for. Not as his hands find the flesh of your hips, and he yanks you to the very edge of the desk, moving with you. The feel of him so close to where you want him is downright cruel.

“Have you thought about me fucking you?” he asks, those hands travelling to rove your ass.

Your nails bite into the desk as you answer, “Yes.”

“Did I make you scream?”

You bite down on your lip at the feeling of him spreading you apart, opening you up to him. “Yes.”

You feel it — his cock sliding between your folds. Not pushing in, but dragging torturously against your sex. From your entrance, up to your clit. The head of his cock pushes against it.

And the moan that rips from you is downright filth, as he rolls his hips and allows your wetness to slicken his length. It feels so fucking good. To you, and to him.

A breath shudders out of him, and he purrs, “Are you going to scream for me now?”

“Fuck yes,” the words tumble from your lips. “I want you, Fin.”

Just like that, his restraint snaps. The High Lord strikes.

He drags his length through your folds and enters you with a single, powerful thrust.

A shout leaves you, and you’re clawing at the desk, trying to keep your grip against the pleasure that courses through you. Fin fills you and stretches you. He pulls out and slams back in to the hilt.

“Fuck me, you’re tight,” he growls, his hands sinking back into your hips. He begins a steady thrusting, sliding in and out of you with a drag that makes you feel every glorious inch of him. “Gods.”

“So good,” you pant. “Want you harder.”

The plea seems to make him groan, and he wastes no time in picking up the pace. His hands bite into your skin as he fucks you faster, harder, your moans and pleas and curses falling from your lips without any nudging from you. The pleasure is all-consuming. In seconds, it’s buried within your veins.

“You like that?” The grit in his voice has you clenching around him. He’s so fucking filthy, so fucking sultry, as he snarls, “you going to be a good girl and come for me?”

Gods, yes, you are. Already, release is coiling tightly within you, and it’s a force entirely of its own right, inching closer and cresting the hill, ready to sink its claws into you. Fin’s cock hits deep, and out of nowhere, his palm is flying through the air and making contact with your ass cheek. That is all it takes.

The pleasure of it all is too much — the sting of the slap, the depth and thrall of his thrusts, the way he growls and grunts as he lays claim to your body, your pleasure.

You cry out, your orgasm blasting through you with unstoppable force. The long strokes of Fin’s cock fuck you through it, through earth-shattering pleasure, through what feels like a mind-altering experience.

“My filthy girl,” he pulls out of you suddenly, and though your cunt still clenches and twitches, desperate for more, more, more, he flips your trembling body onto its back once more and tugs you up, slipping back between your legs. “Fuck, I can’t tell you how relentlessly I’ve thought about making you scream for me like that.”

Past words, you can only reach up and pull his head down to yours to capture him in a kiss. Your taste still coats the tongue that he slides between your lips. It spurs you on to deepen it, luxuriate in the feel of it. And you become so lost in it that you tug hard at the strands of his hair when he enters you again in one great, sweeping thrust.

His arm folds around your back, hand grasping at your shoulder, and it seems to afford him perfect purchase to pound into you. Sounds fill the air of his skin slapping against yours, of the breaths and moans you huff into each other’s mouths. You think the two of you, together, might be loud enough, forceful enough, to bring the City of Starlight to rubble around you.

Fin’s lips tear away from yours, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts are growing quicker, sloppier, reaching a feverous pinnacle that will surely break.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come, Y/N,” his sweat-slick brow presses against your neck. “Taking me so well like this. Squeezing me like this. You’re going to make me fucking blow.”

You want that — more than anything. To feel the power of him spilling into you.

You squeeze your thighs against his, dragging your free hand — the one not sunken in his hair — down the muscles of his shoulders, his back, his waist — to his ass, where you dig your nails into the tight, toned flesh and encourage him to pump into you harder, faster. The feel of it makes Fin shout.

“Come for me,” you choke around your pleasure. “Please, Fin…want you to come.”

An animalistic growl rips from him, and he slams into you one, two, three more times, and then stills, throwing his head back with a roar that shakes the library. Hot, thick ropes of his seed seem endless as they’re unleashed inside you.

The force of it shatters you both, you think. With his trembling as thorough as yours, your nails are still raking over his skin as his brow presses to the crook of your neck. Strands of hair stick to the back of his. Your fingertips smooth over them tenderly.

It feels like eons that you stay there like that, holding each other up from collapsing under the weight of your mutual release. You want to hold him like this, always. You don’t care what others may have to say about it, what they may deem to be wrong about it. You want him.

He pulls back, as though sensing the thought. Meets your eyes. For a beat or two, he simply studies your face, something like clarity on his own.

And then he dips down and drops a kiss to your brow. Such a tender act, in the wake of such passion.

 No words are needed. Not as he scoops you up into his arms, leaving behind the mess the two of you have created. There’s a flash, and he’s winnowed you to your bedroom. A fire roars to life immediately. Fin places you down on the bed.

You watch through hooded eyes as he makes his way into the bathroom. Moments later, he’s returning with a warm, damp washcloth, and he perches beside you.

“Open your legs for me,” he whispers, and you do.

The High Lord of the Night Court is gentle as air as he takes care of you, wiping between your thighs and delivering soft, soothing strokes to your skin. A pleasant soreness sits in your lower belly. He leans down and presses a kiss there like he knows just that.

And then he’s sitting up, and it frightens you — the thought of him walking away, of this ending here and now.

So you lay a hand on his arm, breathing, “Stay with me.”

He pauses, eyes roaming your face like he’s assuring himself you mean it. And then he dips his chin.

“I would be honoured,” he rasps.

And thus, the affair begins.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The need you and Fin have for each other is…insatiable.

Every moment he’s away, you’re thinking of him, longing for the moment he’ll appear in your room and rip your clothes off. If anyone else in the palace — staff, servants, associates — are aware of what’s going on, they don’t give it away. And that suits you just fine.

You can’t get enough. You’re giddy with it. Giddy from the multiple, interesting circumstances you’ve landed yourself in.

Like when you lured him out of a meeting and dropped to your knees in a fucking broom closet, taking his cock into your mouth until he was canting his hips forward and spilling down your throat. Or when he fucked you on the balcony of his personal quarters, your body pressed up against the balustrade, the two of you open to the elements and your moans loud enough to reach the stars above you and the city below you. Or when he took you to watch the ballet, and up in the cushy surrounds of your private viewing box, you watched the performance with him deep inside you, his fingers indolently playing with your clit, his low voice in your ear reminding you to keep quiet.

It’s…exciting. Enthralling. It changes everything.

And as he pulls out of you now, sweaty and panting, and collapses beside you in his bed, you’re not sure you could ever tire of this feeling.

He wants you. He wants you so ferociously, like nobody has ever wanted you before.

As you catch your breaths, he props his head up with his hand and stares at you through hooded eyes, glazed with lust. He leans down and grazes a kiss to your mouth.

“I don’t know how to make it stop,” he ponders as he pulls back, moving a hand to brush his fingers over your breast. “All this need — wanting you constantly.”

You lean up on your elbows, tilting your head, “Do you want it to stop?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Never.”

Never. Never is a very long time. It makes your stomach flip — the enormity of it.

Fin circles the tip of his forefinger around your pebbled nipple, watching with predatory fascination as he adds, “But this will, inevitably, blow up in our faces at some point. We haven’t exactly been secretive — not that I want to be. But people will talk.”

You lean up to brush your mouth over his. “Let them talk,” you say, and kiss him.

Immediately, he melts into the kiss. Your mouth seems to have an effect on him that you never thought yourself capable of. Always draws a long, pleasured sigh from him as he sinks into it, welcomes it.

He kisses you and kisses you, so greedily, so desperately. His hand snakes up to cup your cheek. He’s already hardening against your leg.

But he pulls away, dropping his forehead against yours. And he breathes, “Make a bargain with me.”

You trace a thumb over his bottom lip. You’ve never made a Night Court bargain before; never had reason to. “What bargain?”

“When this blows up in our faces,” he grips your hand, folding his own over it, “we face it together. You and I.”

“You and I?”

“You and I” he kisses your hand. “I don’t claim to be perfect. I don’t try to be. I can be brutal and callous, and I can lie and play games,” another kiss. “But not with you. Never with you. I will look after you. Take care of you. I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

Words that you’ve always longed for someone to say to you. Words that should not be taken lightly, should not be said without meaning.

But you know he means them. You can tell he does.

You watch closely as your fingers interlace with his. And you whisper, “Together?”

Fin’s thumb sweeps over yours. “Together. We’ll face it together.”

“Then it’s a bargain.”

A flash of splintering pain zips around your midriff. You glance down to find the tattoo now inked there. The black line that draws a perfect circle around your waist, like a trail of night-kissed lightning.

You look up at Fin to find a roguish smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, I like that,” he hums.

And then he’s leaning down and pressing kisses to that circlet signifying your promise to one another. Kisses the entirety of it, flipping you on your front in the process.

And kisses lower, until you’re screaming for him again.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-a-girlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

[swiftholic-13]

The Season's Scandal Chapter 5

pairing → Eloise Bridgerton x Female Reader

summary → Y/N is making a rather unsuspected choice and things between her and Eloise become more serious.

warnings → mild smut

words → 2.6k

masterpost chapter 4 chapter 6

One thing Victor, my brother or even my mother forgot to mention was whose ball it was. The Bridgertons were throwing a ball, celebrating their newly engaged son Colin and his fiancée Penelope Featherington. Going there under the current circumstances felt strange, but maybe this was a good thing. I knew their house pretty well by now. I could most probably hide and escape my mother.

As much as I hated my mother, her fashion sense was immaculate. She choose a gracious gown in a soft lavender. It had darker flowers at the bottom, creating a color gradient. The puffy lilac sleeves also had small flowers highlighting its color. I especially liked the glitter and the way it looked while I was moving. I had my hair put up and thanked the servant who dressed me. My mother was arguing with my brother downstairs. I could hear them shouting and and the loud footsteps of my brother rushing away. When I came down the stairs my mother would not even look at me “We have to leave, we are already late”, she simply stated and rushed out the door, not waiting for me. When we got into the carriage, she finally acknowledged me. She looked me up and down with a judging expression. “smile” she simply demanded “keep your back straight”. I did not keep any attention on her and instead looked out of the window. My brother not accompanying me on the ball might be a blessing, I would only have to deal with my mother. “These Bridgertons have quite a decent amount of money, what about their sons?” she asked me, I just rolled my eyes and kept on staring outside, watching the trees in the darkness surrounding them. She slapped my knee with her fan “I am talking to you!” she hissed. I looked at her in agony. I took a deep breath in and tried to focus on Eloise and finally getting out of this carriage.

Luckily, we arrived soon after. I got out of the carriage and realized that most of the guests have already arrived. My brother not being here would grant me less attention. Walking through the gate I noticed Victor waiting for me. He held his arm out for me to take and I gladly took it before my mother would protest. I could care about her later. He walked me inside the glorious ballroom. Many flowers decorated the huge ballroom. My mother was hanging behind pretty far and I leaned over to Victor “I need at least two dances tonight, my mother needs to think you are courting me” he nodded with a smile “Of course my lady” I slapped his arm lightly as he wandered off to get us some lemonade. I kept looking around for Eloise but could not spot her as always. Before my mother returned, Violet Bridgerton approached me “Y/N such as pleasure to see you, we have been missing you these last days” she said and immediately made me smile. She already cared more about me, then my actual mother ever could. “It is a truly tremendous ball you are hosting Lady Bridgerton” I replied. I could feel my mothers presence approaching us from behind “You must be Lady Y/L/N” Violet stated as my mother appeared close from behind me. “Lady Bridgerton” she bowed her head. The music began to start and I rushed away “I have a dance with Lord Abery” I managed to get out before fleeing from my mother’s gaze. Victor and I met on the dancefloor and started dancing. “she truly is a monster, my condolences” he said while looking at her watching us from afar. I nodded “ If it would not be for you, she would never let me leave the house”. When he turned me around I caught Eloise´s eye for a second. She was standing at the lemonades table talking to her brother Benedict. Her eyes were fixated on me in a sad look. I wanted nothing more than to sprint over to her and wrap my arms around her, I have not seen her in far too long.

After our dance my mother snatched me away and took a look into my dancecard “why is it not filled with names yet?” Before I could say another thing the Earl of Ashton approached me and took it into his own manners and wrote his name down for one dance. His smirk was disgusting and the way my mother smiled at him almost made me gag. He barley had any hair left and his beard was scruffy. My eyes were searching for Eloise and I could spot her again. Her piercing blue eyes were staring right into my soul. I completely ignored everything around me, only she mattered. While my mother talked to the Earl, Victor approached me for our next dance, earlier than expected but right at the perfect time to steal me away from the Earl. He lead me to the dancefloor. My eyes were still glued on Eloise. “Have you spoken to her yet?” he asked as our dance began. Our movements stopped me from holding eye contact. “no” I simply replied “I could not write letters” he nodded understandingly. We stayed silent for a bit. “your mother is not leaving you alone, is she?” I shook my head. I looked up at his eyes and took a deep breath in, but before I could speak he raised his voice again. “What if I did court you?” I was surprised at his forwardness. I looked to the floor. I did not want to marry a man, ever. But recently my mother has shown me that there is only one way and I kept losing hope of avoiding the path she wanted for me. It killed me inside. But If I really had to marry, It would be Victor. He would allow me to be myself and with Eloise, he was also a great friend and I would have every freedom in the world. To the world, we would appear as a married couple, but in truth, we were merely friends, each free to live our own separate lives. I could be happy, perhaps happier than I was now. I looked up at him again, took a deep breath in and nodded “yes” I said. The dance was over and the pairs were leaving the dance floor. I just stood there and looked at him “thank you” I whispered and pulled my hand back that I was not realizing was still in his. I turned around to leave as my eye caught Eloise again. Her eyes glassy and she immediately turned to rush away. I tried to go after her as fast as possible but lost her too soon in the crowd.

As I disappeared into the crowd I could not care less about my mother. My thoughts only belonged to Eloise. She was hurt, because of me, it broke my heart. I had to find her. I went outside, thinking she might have disappeared into the gardens. Arriving at the gate I found her brother, the viscount. “Viscount Bridgerton” I said standing close behind him. He turned around and bowed his head “Lady Y/N Y/L/N” “I am searching for your sister” I immediately said. She was my priority, she has been since we first met. “Eloise?” he asked with a surprised expression. I nodded “It is important” I stated, growing impatient. He shrugged his shoulders “I do not know of her whereabouts, I apologize, but she hates these balls, so it comes with no surprise” he said and a small smile appeared on my lips. “thank you” I said while nodding my head and leaving him behind. I could feel his eyes on my back, hopefully he had no suspicion.

If she did not go outside she could only be in her room. I rushed up the stairs and looked around, finding out if anybody was following me or saw me up here. Luckily, I was alone. I sneaked towards her room and took a deep breath as I reached towards the doorknob. I entered and already heard her sobbing, my heart broke at the sound. She sat on the edge of her bed, her head in her hands. “please leave” she demanded in her broken voice. I did not listen and approached her. I got down on my knees and sat in front of her, reaching after her hands and wanting to see her face. “Eloise, I am so sorry I-” She removed her hands from her face and looked me straight in the eyes. “Will you marry him?” she asked, interrupting me. “What?” She stood up and her rather sad expression changed to one of betrayal and anger. She wiped her tears away and started pacing through the room. “You disappear for a week” she started and I could make out the anger in her voice. “I thought it was because of your idiot brother but maybe I was wrong” “El you were not-” “I see you again and your dancing with Lord Abery two times, I see the way you look at each other and you cannot tell me he is not courting you.” I sighed and looked up at her “I assure you, it is not what it appears to be” “not what it appears to be? You promised me not to do this”. I finally stood up and walked over to her “Eloise I do not have a choice, this is not what I desire either” “you always possess a choice” her voice broke again and her emotions overwhelmed her. “Believe me, I am doing this for our sake” “our sake? Or your sake?” she hissed. I understood her anger at me. She clearly did not understand the situation but explaining it to her right now would probably not change things. She turned away from me, trying to calm her breathing. I myself felt the arrival of tears and I knew it was only a matter of moments before they would roll down my cheeks. We stood there in uncomfortable silence. I did not want to fight with her, maybe it was best to leave. I took a deep breath in and walked towards the door.

Right as I reached for the doorknob I heard her voice behind me. “Please do not marry him” it sounded vulnerable and not angry anymore. I felt the hot tears running down my cheeks and I turned around looking directly into her eyes. “El” she came closer to me with slow steps and repeated “Do not marry him” this time more of a whisper as she was standing right in front of me with only mere inches between us. I could feel her breath on my lips and smelled her divine scent. I nodded. “Alright” was the only thing leaving my lips as she stood close in front of me. Her presence was captivating. My eyes wandered from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes. She leaned in and her lips met mine. It felt like time stood still. I have been dreaming of this moment for weeks. Her lips moved against mine with longing and passion. My hand found its way into her hair pulling her closer. She applied light pressure and the way her lips moved against mine felt magical. Her body pressed firmly against mine and my back hit the door. Her hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer to her. We broke apart as we had to catch our breaths. Her face was still close to mine and our breaths mingled. Her eyes searched mine as I leaned my forehead against hers. My hands moved from her hair to her cheeks. She leaned into my touch and closed her eyes. I pulled her closer again and our lips collided in yet another passionate kiss. Our tongues met in a sensual embrace. We both explored each other with hunger born of the months of longing and tension. She took control and slid her tongue into my mouth. A soft moan escaped my lips, while she devoured me. I tried to loosen the strings of her dress. We parted again to catch our breaths. I felt her lips at my jaw as she slowly moved down my neck. She stopped at my collarbone as she sucked on my skin. I bit my lip and leaned my head back in pleasure. As soon as I closed my eyes her lips lost contact. She pulled me back from the door and spun me around to open my dress from the back. Her lips returned to my neck and I leaned back against her. As my dress slipped down my shoulders she wrapped her arms around me from behind and continued her work. I spun around in her arms capturing her lips on mine again. I opened her hair and it softly fell loose. I admired the way it draped so perfectly over her shoulders. She did the same to my hair as I was busy kissing her. We parted and I finally got rid of her dress and opened her corset. She released a long breath as it fell down on the floor. She turned around to face me. A huge smile was on her face and her eyes were barely red anymore, showing no sign of her crying a few minutes ago.

I still did not realize what was happening at the moment. She opened up my corset and let it fall to the floor as well. She brought me closer again and led me to her bed. She pushed me on it and crawled on top of me. I pulled her close to me, nor wanting to lose conract. I was a bit cold and as she spotted my goosebumps she pulled the blanket over us. She looked me deep in the eyes “are you certain?” she whispered. I nodded and connected our lips in another soft kiss as response. She shifted her weight on me and one of her legs was now between mine. Her arms were on either side of my head. Her body was pressed against mine and I enjoyed our closeness. We got rid of the last undergarments, which were keeping us from one another. She kissed me as her hands roomed over my body. I felt her hands moving up my legs to my inner thighs and I gasped at the contact. She slid her tongue inside my mouth as her hand wandered upwards. I moaned as the sensation became too overwhelming and I had no control left over my senses. Feeling her skin on mine was something completely unimaginable. Her hand shifted higher and higher as her other hand was resting on my chest. I breathed heavily as she touched me. I leaned my head back and moaned in pleasure. Her fingers slid inside of me. The feeling was unimaginable. My hands found her way to her back, holding onto it with force. As she started moving them inside of me my nails digged into her back and I could not keep my moans silent any longer. She looked at my face and her lips found her way to my neck and and she sucked on my pulse point. I pulled her head closer as I tangled my fingers in her hair. I clenched around her and her movements sped up. Her fingers curled inside of me. She moved up back to my face and watched me closely as I moaned out her name. she smiled and leaned down to place kisses along my jaw. That was all I needed to come over the edge. She looked at me in satisfaction as I was moaning underneath her. She rolled over and was now laying next to me. Both our heavy breathing was the only sound thay could be heard in the room. She looked over at me smiling. I turned my head to catch her gaze. She smiled at me and gently tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ear "you look beautiful" I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, not getting enough of her taste. She could not stop smiling and I felt her legs intertwining with mine. Her arms wrapped around my neck and she pulled herself closer to give me another kiss. My arms found its way around her waist as she nuzzled her head into my neck and closed her eyes. My left hand found its way into her hair, stroking it. She soon drifted off to sleep. I could not imagine this truly happening. I took in her smell. Her body resting this close to mine provided a great warmth and maybe for the first time in forever, security.

First of all I am so sorry for the long wait, but I promise the next chapters will come soon. Also a huge thank you for all the likes, comments and reposts! I truly appreciate it <3 also we need to talk about these new episodes, there's too much happening

also I think a taglist would be good at this point so let me know If you want to be added

[cloudinwjns]

haiiii, can I request a really fluffy fluff where minji comforts the reader cause it’s exam season and after the exam just coming home to minji having cuddles and sweet treats, pretty pleaseeeeee. it’s exam season for me and I would kill to have someone comforts me :> thank you smmmm <3

Sorry this took like forever (?) help I feel so guilty but I’ve been super duber busy and all I barely had any time to write but here it is. It’s also exam season for me so I can relate a lot TT thanks for the request and hope your exams went well👏

EXAM AND STRESS

Synopsis: it’s normal to get freaked out right? Especially when it’s exam season and you just couldn’t help but worry about your result for the exams. But what’s there to worry when there’s someone around to comfort you.

Warnings; exams (I do hate exams 💔), worrying, have an unexpected upcoming test next week :( and so sorry it came out so late!!! nothing much but just pure fluff,

It took you by surprise the moment an unexpected exams was announced. Of course you hadn’t prepared at all which makes you think it’s going to be harder than the last time.

Gripping your hair in clear frustration, you glanced around the room noticing the messy and disorganized room which made it uncomfortable for you to read.

You turned on the music, putting it at the highest volume knowing you were in for some deep cleaning.

—

With a loud sigh, you collapsed on the bed feeling yourself melt into the soft plush material. After what seemed like hours, you had finally came to the end of the cleaning.

Setting everything else aside apart from your book, you sat on the floor comfortably eyeing the large book with a slight judging look. God why was the school so wicked? They probably knew that most of you weren’t prepared for the exams and decided to release a statement out of the blue.

Although you knew it was going to be extremely hard you knew you had no choice but to study.

Your whole career depends on this particular exam.

—

You trudged through the front door, your feet heavy with exhaustion. You had just finished the most important exam of your life, and you were still reeling from the experience. Your mind was a jumble of emotions, ranging from anxiety to relief.

As you entered the apartment, you were greeted by the warm smile of your girlfriend, Minji. She was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked under her, and a tray of sweet treats in front of her.

"Hey, baby," she said, her voice soft and soothing. "How did it go?"

You collapsed onto the couch beside her, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. You had been studying for months, and the pressure had been building up to this moment.

"I don't know," you admitted, running a hand through your hair. "I feel like I did okay, but I'm not sure. My mind is a blank right now."

Minji nodded sympathetically, her eyes filled with understanding. She knew how much this exam meant to you, and she had been supporting you every step of the way.

"It's okay, baby," she said, taking your hand in hers. "You did your best, and that's all that matters. Now, let's focus on celebrating. I made your favorite treats."

She gestured to the tray in front of her, which was laden with all sorts of sweet goodies. There were cupcakes, brownies, and even a few pieces of fruit.

You couldn't help but smile as you looked at the spread. Minji always knew how to make you feel better, and this was just what you needed after a long and stressful day.

"Thank you, Minji," you said, feeling a surge of gratitude towards her. "You always know how to make me feel better."

Minji smiled, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "That's what girlfriends are for," she said, leaning in to kiss you.

As you kissed her, you felt a wave of tension melt away. You had been so focused on the exam, and now that it was over, you could finally relax.

Minji pulled back, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Now, let's get comfortable," she said, gesturing to the couch.

You nodded, feeling a sense of anticipation build up inside you. You knew that Minji had something special planned, and you couldn't wait to see what it was.

As you settled into the couch, Minji snuggled up beside you, her head on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around her, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

For a few moments, you just lay there, enjoying the warmth and comfort of Minji's presence. You felt your worries and anxieties melting away, replaced by a sense of calm and contentment.

As you lay there, Minji started to stroke your hair, her fingers gentle and soothing. You felt your eyes starting to droop, and before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

You slept for a few hours, lulled by the sound of Minji's gentle humming and the warmth of her presence. When you woke up, you felt refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Minji was still beside you, her eyes closed and a peaceful expression on her face. You smiled, feeling a surge of love and gratitude towards her.

"Thank you, Minji," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Minji's eyes flickered open, and she smiled up at you. "Anytime, baby," she said, her voice soft and gentle.

You leaned in to kiss her, feeling a sense of happiness and contentment wash over you. You knew that no matter what happened with the exam, you had Minji by your side, and that was all that mattered.

[sheeezu]

Lately I've been struggling to even attempt to shift because I don't know where to go. You mentioned that your 'DR' was more made from scratch and piecing things together and I was wondering if you had any advice on that since I think it would be a good idea for me aswell but I don't know where to start.

My DR was actually very carefully made, and it took a lot of time, without a doubt (like i said, a year or something)

It was basically everything i loved about existing, compiled into a single reality.

It wasn't easy with me being a perfectionist, i'd get upset if i didn't get good enough crockery recommendation from pinterest (but in the end i did it, expensive and delicate looking china teacups, which got a crack the second day i was in my DR)

Ok-

Your DR self:

So my DR self was made from imagination, i don't even think anyone has any trouble with face claims, so we'll skip this portion.

Now for the personality, i'd always recommend going in the opposite direction of how you are in your CR.

A compelling personality would not only attract potential DR suitors but also yourself to your DR.

Try to balance your personality - a cold and sarcastic personality layered with sweetness, since in my opinion being either the biggest jerk or just being a doormat is unappealing.

Your DR personality is the most important part of your DR, even more important than your face claims, a good understanding of your personality basically guarantees a shift.

I'm a little short on words for this post since all of this is supposed to be personal to yourself, but i'm trying to write advice anyways.

Improve your environment, look at your CR, try to see what's lacking, try to figure out what's so irrational that you want to shift?

Make your DR engaging, script it's like a movie, a lot is happening, and you're often dragged into stuff which you've never signed up for (just like a romcom- trust me, you'll thank me on this one, even in my home reality, or even just now, i recall the memories very fondly to the opportunities and main character vibes i got to experience)

Try to be creative, do not care about it being quirky or weird, make notion notes (...? is that what they're called?) and write down all of the in the moment and full of life scenarios you'd like to experience, it'll induce a certain longing and excitement for your DR.

Read and or watch media. Read books and watch movies, this will increase your world building skills, and there's no shame in taking the plot of a entire movie and making it your DR's, it's your DR, no one is judging, it'll be just you there.

Balance. A good balance in a reality is what you want, if your DR has lot of action, don't just make it just about that, you'll burnout. Add other elements, soft moments, during which you can enjoy living in the place you've worked hard to come to.

Don't just make yourself perfect! Let yourself have flaws, trust me, your loved ones will love you anyways, in my DR, i made tea for my family and it was absolutely terrible, and to not hurt my feelings they drank it with a smile hiding there grimaces, it was only after i tasted it, i figured it out. (point of the storytime being, there is no issue with being authentic)

Visually appealing DR. Colorful lights and colors, lanterns, scenic nature, a "glow" to everything (like a calm filter of your choice, in my DR i just made the sunlight be bright golden, it added magic to everything :)

Let yourself experience unconditional love, care and respect. You deserve it.

Make pinterest boards, spotify (or any other music app o.o) playlists, use notion (my beloved)

Romanticize your DR (make everything beautiful- except perhaps not committing felonies)

Ok that's it, i suppose, all the actual DR, who you are, who are your loved ones, what you do, what your aim is, you're supposed to ponder on that yourself (trust me, it'll come to you) , i can't exactly make it or script it out for you, but you know what you like, take bits and pieces from already popular drs, and follow the corny statement:

Just be yourself.

Thank for coming to my ted talk

(Btw, i'd love to upload my script and about my DR or something, but eh, if i feel like it, my already existing script is cringe, and it'll definitely need dusting up)

oh and yeah forgot i was answering to someone, so i hoped this helped (:

[aventurineswife]

Could I get some fucking uuuuuuhhhh

Aventurine, Ratio, and Caelus walking in on their s/o “destressing” (and by destressing, I mean belting out songs with strangely violent lyrics like butcher vanity and people eater)

Destressed and Distressed

Tags: Caelus x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Humor, Established Relationship, Lighthearted Chaos, Relaxation Techniques.

Warnings: Strong language (violent lyrics in song), Mild embarrassment (Reader is caught in awkward or humorous situations), Over-the-top behavior (dramatic performances).

[Header credits]

Caelus entered the quiet cabin aboard the Astral Express, expecting to find you calmly reading or enjoying some music. Instead, the sound of intensely violent lyrics hit him like a freight train.

“I wanna slit your throat and eat 'til I get sick!”

Pausing mid-step, Caelus blinked, trying to process what he was hearing. You, normally the embodiment of serenity, were dramatically gesturing and belting out lyrics like a rockstar in your personal concert. You swung an invisible cleaver with theatrical flair, a hairbrush doubling as a microphone.

For a moment, Caelus considered backing out quietly. He’d faced Stellaron-related disasters, hostile enemies, and existential crises, but this? This was uncharted territory.

Finally, unable to stop himself, he cleared his throat. “Uh… Are you okay?”

You froze, wide-eyed and caught mid-chorus, before bursting into laughter. “I’m fine! Just… destressing.”

Caelus stared at you for a beat, then shrugged. “If this is what helps you relax, I guess I can’t judge. Need a backup dancer?”

When you nodded eagerly, he joined in without hesitation, mirroring your dramatic gestures. After all, if Caelus had learned anything on his journey, it was that a little chaos could go a long way.

Aventurine swung open the door of your shared quarters, twirling his hat onto the rack with his signature flourish. “Darling, I’ve got news—”

The words died in his throat as he caught sight of you standing atop a chair, passionately screaming violent lyrics into a spoon.

“I’ll devour all of you in time!”

He blinked, adjusting his glasses as if the spectacle before him might disappear with better clarity. You, fully committed to your performance, didn’t even notice him. Aventurine leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

When the song ended, you finally noticed him and froze, cheeks flushing. “I—uh—didn’t hear you come in.”

Aventurine chuckled, sauntering over. “Oh, don’t stop on my account. It’s not every day I see such raw passion. Though I must say, your lyric choice is… bold.”

He tapped his chin theatrically, pretending to ponder. “Perhaps I should gamble on your vocal career instead of my next investment?”

You groaned in embarrassment, but Aventurine merely laughed, taking your hand and spinning you into an exaggerated dance. “Come now, darling, you can’t start a performance like that and expect me not to join in.”

Ratio was accustomed to calculated chaos, but as he approached your workshop and heard the violent, blood-soaked lyrics echoing through the space, even he was momentarily stunned.

“I’ll feed you your own hands and feet!”

Pushing the door open, he found you fully immersed in your “destressing” routine, swinging your arms and stomping your feet to the beat. For a man who prided himself on logic, this display defied all his calculations.

“Fascinating,” Ratio mused, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Startled, you whipped around, almost tripping over a stray book. “Ratio! I—uh—this isn’t what it looks like!”

“Oh, no need to explain,” he said smoothly, stepping forward. “If anything, I find this… insight into your psyche rather illuminating. A rare variable in an otherwise predictable day.”

You flushed, but Ratio’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Though I must admit, the anatomical accuracy of your lyrics could use some work. Shall I provide a diagram?”

You groaned in mock despair. “You would turn this into a lesson.”

“Of course,” Ratio replied, handing you a model of a human heart. “But by all means, continue. I find this strangely… cathartic to observe.”