#still debating what album he's playing

[efingcod]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

He was just Simon to you. Just a neighbor at first. Someone you waved to at the grocery store.

Occasionally, you'd catch him sitting in his window reading a book and drinking tea. He was someone you wondered about.

Always had a hello for you, but you struggled to find a foothold for a conversation.

Then he invited you over one night for dinner. His house was not what you expected—filled with books and vinyl. The walls covered in framed concert posters, old oil paintings, and watercolors. There was an album on, low enough to talk comfortably over. It was there to fill the space. You were sure you recognized the beat but couldn't quite place it.

At the time, you didn't know that it was one of his habits. Fill his empty home with a soft sound to try to drown out the quiet.

Or his thoughts.

Where his thoughts drifted to in the silence when he was alone, you didn't know. Didn't talk about it, but you could make your own assumptions. As soon as you saw the scars, you had an idea of what kind of life he led before. But he never talked about it, and you never asked.

Thanks to @ohgeesoap for the inspo! And for listening to my nonsense on discord. 💙

[another-lost-mc]

You don't realize what you have until it's gone.

Too Late Now | Lucifer x gn!Reader

Content Warnings: Major character death (Reader), Angst with No Happy Ending. Unrequited love, memory flashbacks and a dream sequence, brief mentions of blood/fatal injuries (cause unspecified).

Word Count: 2.7k words

Lucifer will never forget your last night in the Devildom. He knew long before that moment that you wanted a pact with him. You reminded him often with your not-so-subtle comments about how it felt like something was missing, that you wished the two of you could be even closer.

Unlike Solomon, Lucifer considered your request seriously, debating giving part of himself to you the way his brothers had. But he was proud, and he wanted to make absolutely sure you were worthy of having a pact with him. He resisted you to the very end, even though your persistence was charming, at times.

Lucifer was sitting at the dining room table reading the morning’s paper when you shuffled in, still wearing your sleep clothes like you just crawled out of bed.

When you realized he was there, you yawned and stretched your arms up high above your head. The cropped shirt you wore rode up your belly and he could see some of his brothers’ pact marks etched into your skin. He averted his gaze before he was tempted to stare.

“Good morning, Lucifer!” you said cheerfully, trailing off into another quiet yawn.

You pat your stomach and rested your hand over Beel’s pact mark. “I was just thinking that I have room for another pact mark somewhere, maaaaybe right-” you paused, patting the space above your heart, “here. What do you think? Know any demons interested in making a pact with a ‘lil human like me?”

He scoffed and flicked his wrist, turning the page and barely sparing you another glance. “I’m sure you can find several willing demons if you parade yourself down the street like that,” he suggested dryly.

“Aww, Luci, you’re no fun.” You pouted your lips and he refused to smile, no matter how cute you looked.

Realizing your attempt to seduce him - badly - into a pact had failed, you gave up the ruse and headed towards the kitchen. “I’ll make us some coffee!”

You faced each other that last night in his private study, the cursed TSL album played softly in the background while the fireplace crackled next to you. Both of you were bathed in shadow and flame. He finally gave into temptation to bind you to him and he made you his, his mark etched into your skin forever, but you still looked dissatisfied. 

Lucifer realized there were emotions swirling in your gaze that you always tried to hide from him - hope, longing, desire. He knew what else you wanted from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to close the rift between you. It was his last line of defense, the only thing keeping him from becoming yours completely. You were going home, and whatever relationship you wanted with him was about to come to an end. He thought it would be easier this way.

“Lucifer, I–” you started to say, but he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to him. Whatever you tried to say next was muffled against his chest. He looked down at you and pretended the tears pooling in your eyes didn’t hurt him.

“Don’t,” he warned you quietly. “You have your own life to live, and I promise you that your friendship is more than enough.” He held you like that while you cried quietly against his chest. When he finally convinced you to go to your room to sleep, he stayed up drinking in front of the fireplace and wondered if he made the right choice.

The next morning, it was like nothing happened. You still greeted him in that sickeningly sweet and cheerful voice of yours, and his brothers hovered around you for your attention while they said their goodbyes.

When you promised Lucifer you’d see him again soon, eyes fiery with determination, he believed you would find a way to make it happen. He wondered if things might turn out differently the next time you meet; he wasn’t sure he had the power to resist you a second time.

During the first two weeks after your return to the human world, Lucifer tells himself it’s not bitter regret that swirls uncomfortably at the pit of his stomach and makes his heart ache. His brothers aren’t handling your departure very well, and he refuses to let himself be made a fool by his emotions. He has to be strong and set an example for the rest of them. He can’t let one mere human ruin him. He’s determined to carry on as normal, as though you were never there to begin with.

He will not visit your old room until your scent fades away.

He will not trace the outline of his pact mark with you and wonder if you can feel his fingertips on your skin when he does it.

He will not miss you.

Lucifer doesn’t dream often. Sometimes he does, and he dreams of white feathers burning around him while he falls into a dark abyss. Other times, he dreams of random memories of his brothers, or his long lost sister. In the three months since he last saw you, he’s dreamt of you, too.

But the dream he has tonight is different from the others. You’re both trapped in a grey void. He wants to go to you, but Lucifer can’t move no matter how hard he tries. You’re so close, just out of his reach. There’s something unsettling about your expression - your small, bittersweet smile lacks the mischievous humor he’s so fond of. Your eyes are serious and sad; he thinks you look defeated. 

“I’m sorry,” you say weakly, like you’re talking to him from the opposite end of a tunnel even though he’s only a few feet away from you. The words echo in the empty space around him even though you’ve grown silent.

He doesn’t understand what’s going on, and he wants to ask you what you mean, but he’s unable to speak. You flicker before his eyes, fading in and out of focus like a projection. It’s eerie at first, and he realizes he’s looking at different versions of you because you keep changing.

In one moment, you look like you did the last time he saw you. Then suddenly, your image becomes distorted. All he sees is that one of your eyes is swollen shut and blood drips down the side of your face, a gnarly gash split across your temple. Your teeth are bloody when you open your mouth to speak again, but there’s a roar building in his ears, and suddenly you’re gone and he can’t see you anymore–

Lucifer wakes up with a gasp. There’s searing pain behind his eyes and he groans while he holds his face in his hands. He’s trembling, and he feels cold and empty, and he wants to forget the haunting image of your broken face. Eventually the sleepy fog lifts from his mind, and he realizes someone is pounding on his bedroom door. His brothers shout his name outside his room, and he thinks he can hear someone crying.

It’s only then that he glances down at his bare chest and realizes that his pact mark with you is gone.

Lucifer was working on his third stack of documents to review and sign when there’s a quiet knock on his door. He glanced at the clock - 9:48pm. He thought he told his brothers he was busy this evening and he didn’t want to be disturbed.

He was prepared to string up whoever had the nerve to interrupt him, but he froze when he pulled the door open and found you instead. Your hand was raised like you were just about to knock again, and you dropped it hastily and grinned at him.

“Hi Luci,” you said in that cutesy sing-song voice of yours, “I brought you something.”

He realized that you were holding a large bowl out to him. He sniffed the air and couldn’t contain his surprise. “Shadow hog stew?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Beel said it was your favourite. I made it earlier, but you never showed up for dinner. Your phone must be broken, by the way. I only tried calling and texting you like, a million times to tell you to come eat with us.”

Lucifer put his phone on do-not-disturb for a reason: you and your incessant nagging.

“I’m busy,” he said irritably, and he glared when you just smiled and shoved the bowl at him anyway.

“Well, you’re pretty clever. I’m sure you can figure out a way to eat a bit of food while you finish your work.” You headed back towards the stairs leading to the main floor. “There’s more in the kitchen if you want some!” You called to him over your shoulder, waving him goodnight before you disappeared from view.

Lucifer sat at his desk and stared at the bowl before he picked up the spoon. He decided that wasting something as decadent as shadow hog stew might not be proper form, and he tried a hesitant mouthful. And then another. And another after that.

He waited until he was sure you were in your room and fast asleep before taking the empty bowl to the kitchen for seconds.

The familiar scent of shadow hog stew catches Lucifer’s attention and he leaves his office to visit the kitchen. It’s a rich, hearty dish that was normally reserved for special occasions. He is very picky with how it’s prepared, and most of his brother’s don’t have the patience to make it properly. He hasn’t had it since you–well, he hasn’t had it in a long time.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he asks Satan, who is stirring the large pot of stew on the stove.

“I - I mean, we - thought you might like to try having something different tonight,” Satan says carefully, glancing at his older brother from the corner of his eye. “There’s some concern that you’re not eating enough.”

Lucifer opens his mouth to argue, because he is not some child that needs to be coddled, but he looks closer at the open recipe book on the counter. There are notes scribbled in the page margins where ingredients and measurements are crossed out and re-written. There’s also a pink sticky note on the side of the page, and he can still make out the familiar writing:

☆ one of Luci’s favs! ☆

It feels like there’s a heavy stone in his stomach, and Lucifer turns around and storms away from the kitchen before the feeling makes him nauseous.

“Where are you going? This is almost ready!” Satan calls to him.

“I’m not hungry,” Lucifer snarls, heading to his study and slamming the door behind him.

Lucifer startled when you dangled a paper bag in front of his face. “Can’t you see that I’m working?”

You sat in the chair across from him at his desk. “Yes, yes. All that important paperwork, I know. But I think it’s time to take a break, don’t you?”

He took the bag you offered him and pulled out the black…whatever the item is supposed to be. He held it up with his fingers. “Am I supposed to know what this is?”

You clapped your hands excitedly. “It’s a bath bomb!”

Lucifer gave you a deadpan stare. “It’s a what?”

“A baaaath boooomb,” you exaggerated the pronunciation slowly for his benefit. “It’s like fancy bubbles. You drop it into the water and it makes baths 500% more fun. You should try it.”

Lucifer sniffed at the black, strangely shaped item in his hand. “It smells like roses.”

You nodded. “Yep, and citrus, too. You’ll smell amazing afterwards, don’t you think?”

He glanced at it warily. “It has glitter in it. And this dark colour can’t be good for the porcelain tub. Don’t you think this will stain it? Who do you expect to clean up after this?”

You waved away his concerns with a grin. “Okay, so maybe glitter’s not your jam, and the cleanup might be a pain, but I promise it’s worth trying. I’ll even help you scrub the mess after.”

He put the bath product back into its paper bag and tossed it to you. You weren’t expecting it, and you just managed to catch it before it fell to the ground and shattered into a thousand pieces. “I’m not interested in childish nonsense. Give it to Asmo instead.”

You stood up from your chair with a resigned sigh. “Fine, you win this round. But for what it’s worth, I do think you’re working too much these days. You should take a break. A bit of relaxation won’t kill you.”

Lucifer knocks on Asmo’s door. When his brother answers, Lucifer pushes a basket into his hands. “These were in the bathroom. I assume you can find some use for them, since no one else will.”

Asmo opens the basket and smiles at the small collection of colourful bath bombs you purchased during your stay in the Devildom. “I forgot they bought these. Did you know that they gave Solomon money to buy them in the human world? You can’t even buy these on Akuzon.”

Lucifer can’t imagine why you’d go to that much trouble for something so trivial. “I didn’t know they liked baths enough to spend their hard-earned money on such ridiculous frivolities.”

Asmo glanced at his brother and hesitated before speaking. “Well, they didn’t like baths. They bought these for…someone else to use.” Asmo reached into the basket and picked up a black rose-shaped bath bomb and held it out to his brother. “I think you should keep this one.”

There was something knowing in Asmo’s gaze, and something inside him cracked. He shook his head and walked away before he said - or did - something stupid.

Lucifer’s still not sure how he ended up outside your old bedroom door. He felt numb and he wasn’t paying attention to where his feet were taking him. When you left the Devildom, he resisted the temptation to visit your old room. Since your death, he pretended the room didn’t exist.

The door hinges are creaky from lack of use, and he opens the door just enough so he can slip inside before closing it behind him. Judging by the dust in the air, he doesn’t think his brothers have visited your room since your passing either. The room has grown cold and desolate in your absence. He has the urge to board it up and lock it away so that no one else can ever use it.

Lucifer’s not sure what he expects to find when he examines your empty shelves and starts opening random drawers in your vanity. Maybe you left something behind, something he can keep to remember you by; it’ll remind him years from now that you’re the reason why the hole in his heart exists.

There’s a blue sticky note inside one of the drawers. He nearly glances over it, except he notices that the writing is still legible, not yet faded by time. He assumes it’s an old reminder to yourself about homework you had to do, or maybe a shopping list on a night when it was your turn to cook.

He wonders what kind of note you would write today if you could see him now. You were always leaving notes all over the house for him and his brothers to find. He used to hate the ones you left in his office that reminded him to take breaks and to drink something other than coffee. 

He misses those notes now. He misses you.

He swallows around the lump in his throat, and the note shakes in his hands when he summons the courage to read it:

Are you rummaging through my old room because you miss me? I’ll be thinking about you from the human world. Love you! ♡

Something inside him finally breaks. He can’t stop himself when he finally confesses his feelings for you in a hushed whisper, heard by no one else except the memory of you that haunts him.

Read more: Lucifer Masterlist | Obey Me Masterlist

[floylia]

ELYSIAN ♫

05. Time is a bargaining tool

Time is a bargaining tool.

Scara knew that.

“You want me to feature on your album?” You repeated Scara’s words, beginning to doubt your ability to hear, “Do you realize how risky that is?”

Scara bobbed his head with pleased a expression etched on his face as if his words weren’t weighted with worry, “That’s why I asked you if you were ready to take a risk.”

You stood up, unable to sit still, now pacing across the room. Bambi must have sensed your unease, because he too, started following you while rubbing himself against your legs, “On a normal occasion, I wouldn’t mind. But you’re playing with two careers here. I might sound frustrating, refusing your offer, but don’t blame me for being realistic.”

“When have I ever cared about reputations?”

You fought the urge to smack him back into his senses.

“Never, but you’re in an industry where the public’s opinion can change the trajectory of the career you’ve established for years.”

And I don’t want you to go through that as well.

“We’re not puppets.”

“That’s debatable.”

Scara sighed, tousling his hair once again—his nervous habit, “We shouldn’t let them control us.”

It’s easier said than done.

But you understood where he was coming from.

You faced him, offering your utmost sincerity, “I don’t want to drag you in my mess. Nor do I want to cause more trouble than necessary.”

Silence engulfed the room. You glanced over at your friend. He’s deep in thought, gaze intense, expression unreadable. But you knew he was scheming, thinking of ways to persuade you—anything to assure you that all’s well, ends well.

Because what Scara wants, Scara gets.

“How long is your hiatus?”

You shrugged your shoulder and decided to sit back down. Bambi trailed you as he leaped up the bed and onto your lap. Clingy cats are the best, “I don’t know, but they’ll probably kick me out before it’s over. I have less than three months left, anyway.”

“What if we use this opportunity?”

“What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms, “Tell your story. Your silence leaves for more assumptions to grow.”

“I would if they let me use my voice. I was planning to wait until my contract is up to take legal actions.”

He tilted his head, “Why can’t you now?”

“Because they’re silencing me. Especially since my accuser is from the same company,” You deadpanned, stating the obvious, a detail he may have forgotten.

Scaramouche scoffed in disbelief, eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head in disapproval, “But they’re willing to throw you under the bus and take her side over you?”

“Which is why I don’t want to be responsible for ruining the career you’ve built for years. Even my friends are receiving unnecessary hate just because they’re connected to me.”

“So it’s a lost cause?”

You nodded.

“Can you…” Scara hesitated, wondering if he should continue, “Can you think it over some more? At least until your hiatus is up?”

You crossed your arms, failing to hide the faint smile creeping across your lips, “You sound desperate.”

“Enjoying my misery?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll win you over, just wait.”

Time is a bargaining tool.

You realized that.

Notes:

“We’re not puppets.” Haha so about that

another update cause i feel bad for ghosting 🫡

hope you all enjoy :))

i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you (bolded = couldn’t tag)

Synopsis: After 7 years of enduring the media’s relentless pursuit of painting you as a villain, you’re forced to go through an indefinite hiatus with a tainted reputation on your head. However, just when you thought your career was over, a certain 5WIRL member wants you to feature on his solo career. Surely, this won’t affect your reputation once more, would it?

Scaramouche x fem!reader

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[aimedis]

lasko & dear headcanons 🌬🌊

"it's not too close for me.. i-i like close..."

one of the first things dear said to lasko when they met for the first time (not in his office) was "your eyes are so pretty"

lasko almost collapsed from being so intimately complimented by someone so gorgeous

their song is sparks fly by taylor swift

dear's presence calms lasko down so much, he didn't even know it was possible for him to not be anxious until he got more comfortable being himself around them

so much so that he barely trips over himself when they fluster him anymore. he still blushes really hard but he doesn't go on a ten minute ramble about it

sometimes dear pulls on lasko's shirt to make him follow them

dear has a nose piercing and cartilage piercings on both ears. lasko loves to idly toy with their dangling earrings

lasko tells dear that they smell nice all the time

lasko didn't know it was possible for anyone to be better at hugs than huxley but when he hugged dear for the first time, he never wanted to let go

dear calls lasko "ko ko" and the first time they did, he smiled to hard he though his face would fall off

but the first time they called him babe/baby, he nearly passed out from how much blood rushed to his face

lasko is the kind of ticklish where if you even mention or move to tickle him, he screams. dear teases him all the time for it

dear brushes and dries lasko's hair for him when he styles/washes it

dear massages lasko's scalp whenever he has a headache and it always puts him straight to sleep

lasko always absentmindedly doodles dear whenever he zones out

dear posts selfies and fit pics on their instagram and lasko is always first to say "i chose the pictures" in the comments (on his private account of course)

lasko makes dirty jokes to and about dear all the time and he always gets incredibly flustered after saying whatever it is, apologizing a million times while dear is just laughing at him

dear is actually really unfiltered once they get comfortable so lasko is just fighting for his life while they're blatantly flirting with him

sometimes to tease him, dear will refuse to pick up on lasko's not-so-subtle hints whenever he wants something. they want him to ask for it outright and they'll play dumb until he does

they didn't have the 'honeymoon phase' immediately after getting together, but once it set in, these two are obsessed with each other (the crew is tired of lasko calling them every two seconds to ramble about the most minuscule thing dear did)

they spend all their lunch breaks together, even if one of them has to work the entire time, they just enjoy being in each other's presence

as much as dear quiet's lasko's mind, he spends a lot of time with them flustered because they're a relentless tease often. sometimes they don't even realize they're teasing him it just comes naturally to them

lasko doesn't think dear had an angry bone in their body, he's never heard them yell before even as a joke

they don't argue often, they've only had like one serious disagreement that was resolved in less than an hour. they're both really good at not only talking to each other, but understanding each other

they bicker and debate back and forth lightheartedly about absolute bullshit all the time (dear making fun of lasko's favourite book, lasko mocking the way dear talks to their students, arguing which album of this artist is better etc.)

contrary to popular belief, lasko does tease dear back. he has yet to fluster them with his words

however, whenever lasko gifts dear something that he says reminded him of them or something they've wanted, they end up being so touched that they start acting like him (stuttering, blushing, rambling)

lasko thinks it's the cutest thing ever

neither of them can fucking see. lasko's always losing his glasses and dear never wears theirs or their contacts outside of classes they teach

dear is always squinting at people and words, asking lasko who it is or what is says. lasko is always chastising them for it

"ko ko, what does that say?" "this is why your head always hurts- where are your glasses?"

dear is borderline obsessed with the health of their hair. they have long virgin hair, have never gotten more than a trim, washes it often but not too often, uses hair masks but not too often, and they hate whenever a single hair is even slightly out of place

lasko is the only one allowed to run his fingers through it, style it, or kiss their head where their hair is because “i know where his hands have been, not yours”

dear used to be selectively mute as a child and they’re still a pretty quiet person. but funnily enough, they don't really like the silence all that much. that’s why they love when lasko rambles and talks a lot

they also genuinely find whatever he talks about really entertaining

but since being with lasko, they've started to be more comfortable talking at length about whatever they're interested in or how they feel about things

lasko is slowly turning them into a yapper and he's really happy about it

but when dear rambles, it’s way worse than lasko. they speak faster than him, stray from the initial topic more than him, and go on for longer than him. and when they stop talking, they’re so incredibly embarrassed

lasko also thinks that's the cutest thing ever

they read together all the time. sometimes it's the same book and one of them is reading over the other's shoulder, sometimes one of them will read out loud to the other, and sometimes they'll read entirely seperate books while sitting or laying together

if they're doing different things in the same room, ever so often one of them (usually lasko) will perk up and start talking about something before going back to their respective tasks

dear blows lasko kisses every time they leave a room without him, it makes him blush and giggle like an idiot every single time

lasko had never really cared for physical touch before dear, but now? he loves touching them in any way, shape, or form

sometimes lasko sees dear looking at him all adoring-like whenever he's talking and he has to stop and catch his breath because they truly do look awestruck

dear kisses lasko on the cheek more than his lips

dear has six tattoos and whenever they're on display, lasko likes tracing him with his finger or a closed pen

lasko's least favourite thing dear does (other than tickling him) is when they say the most outrageous lie with a completely straight face (lasko is extremely gullible)

dear thinks it's the funniest thing in the world to watch him deadpan at them when they say they were lying

"are you lying again." "honestly i don't know how you keep falling for this"

dear hates it when lasko sneezes because he never sneezes into his elbow, always into the inside of his wrist or to the side like the fact that nothing came out is good enough

dear spends all of their money on lasko. they never let him pay for dates, they're always buying him food or gifts randomly, they stock his fridge for him out of the blue

lasko is not used to it at all and is flustered every time they spend money on him

dear comes from a really kind family and they love lasko. he felt so overwhelmingly happy the first time they welcomed him into dear's childhood home and treated him like their own son after not having parental figures in his life for so long

dear genuinely thought lasko was the most handsome guy to ever exist ever the first time they saw him

[skepsiss]

I’ve been thinking a lot about Eddie seeing the patches from his old vest onto a new less ruined one after I made that post about his PT—so my prompt for you is Steve helping Eddie resew his new vest (but he’s not really helping he’s just kind of there for kisses and emotional support hehe)

I took a little more into the "actually helping" realm, but it's still fluffy sweet. Other people can send me prrrommmppptts too! --

Eddie had never done something like this with someone else before. Sewing his ripped jeans, bags, and battle-vest had been a solo venture thus far, but it felt strangely intimate to be getting help with his new vest. The old one wasn't salvageable, but Eddie had managed to save some of the patches and pins to start again. This wasn't his first battle vest, and it probably wouldn't be the last, but he had hoped to hang onto his old denim. It wasn't to be though, so Eddie had thrifted a second (or third) hand denim jacket and ripped the sleeves off to start all over again.

"What's this one?" Steve asked, handing over a pin Eddie had gotten from hanging outside a metal show he couldn't get tickets for.

"Bad Brains," Eddie explained, taking the yellow button and running a thumb over the red lightning bolt that streaked across the front. "From New York, I think. I traded for it; no one really plays their stuff on the radio."

Steve nodded like he was going to retain any of that as Eddie debated over where to stick the pin. He settled on the front right pocket and then turned the vest over.

"You want to help sew the back patch?" Eddie asked, grabbing the swath of fabric he had cut from an old band-T. He hadn't been able to get the blood out of his old DIO patch, and while 'the bloody look' was cool, something about it made Eddie squirm. He didn't like that it was Steve's blood, or that the stain had made part of the album art unreadable.

So, DIO was retired, and Eddie instead centred his new Megadeth patch on the back of his vest.

Eddie handed over a needle and thread to Steve and then cut himself his own length. He strung the needle easily and tied it off before setting to work. Steve seemed to be taking his sweet time, and Eddie eventually glanced at him to see what the hold up was.

Steve was still gingerly trying to thread the needle, his brows pinched with frustration.

Eddie snorted lightly before turning the vest around so it was facing Steve.

"Here, you continue my line, and I'll finish this," Eddie teased gently, finding Steve's inability to thread a needle charming.

"Is it too late to say I've never done this before?" Steve asked, picking up the needle and thread Eddie had left behind and stabbing into the fabric.

"I can tell," Eddie chuckled, easily starting to work again. "You don't have to, you know. I don't mind just having some company."

"No, it's alright," Steve said slowly, obviously concentrating as he tried to stick the needle up through the patch. "What're boyfriend for?"

Eddie felt a syrupy smile spread across his face at Steve's words, his stomach tumbling around inside of him. He was still getting used to Steve calling them 'boyfriends' and Eddie couldn't help how giddy it made him each time. Sure, it had been nearly a month, but it still made Eddie feel like he was a blushing fifteen-year-old.

"If you insist… love," Eddie said, keeping his gaze down. He was trying out a new pet-name and he wasn't really sure if it was pushing things a bit too far. Love or My Love was such an intimate title, but Eddie had been thinking of it for a while now. He saw Steve pause at the use of the new nickname though, and waited for him to say something.

"Ow---Jesus," Steve said instead, and Eddie looked up to see him holding his hand up, a ruby-red bead of blood forming on his finger.

"Ah…" Eddie said lamely, smiling still as he reached over for Steve's hand. "Sticking yourself hurts."

"Yeah, thanks for stating the obvious," Steve bitched, letting Eddie take his hand.

"I thought you'd be a bit more durable… you know, with the whole… missing a chunk of your stomach, thing," Eddie teased gently, putting his lips to the wound on Steve's finger much the same way his mother would have when he was a child.

Steve didn't reply to Eddie's comment, instead sitting there quietly and letting Eddie suck on the tip of his finger.

"You want a band-aid?" Eddie asked, pulling back just a bit and then cheekily pressing his tongue against Steve's finger, holding it there with his mouth open.

"Yeah, a band-aid----what are you doing? Don't be weird," Steve chuckled, still not resisting Eddie's grip.

Eddie quirked a brow at him and pulled back, before huffing a laugh.

"Look who you're talking to. Weird is practically stamped on my forehead," he scolded, before licking Steve's finger again for good measure.

"Alright, alright, fair. We get it, Count Dracula, can we grab that band-aid?"

Eddie chuckled again and then scrambled to his feet, trotting off toward the bathroom, but not before turning around and sticking his fingers in front of his lips to replicate fangs.

"I vant---to suck yer ddiiiiccck," he teased, smiling wide when he got an honest belly laugh from Steve.

[billsbabydoll]

“𝓃ℴ ℴ𝓃ℯ𝓈 ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓂ℯ, 𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊.”

contains:PURE FLUFF<3

summary:being apart of tokio hotel was a complete dream come true! me and bill had quickly grown closer as the years passed but would we ever tell each-other about our secret crush on one another? one day while working our new album “humanoid” someone has a long confession to make.

WARNINGS:cringe fluff again, friends to lovers, crush confession, first kiss.

notes:requested by anonymous hope you enjoy this story!also my dms are open to more suggestions:)))

ive been apart of the band since they were devilish and i played second guitar, working with the four boys throughout the years has been a wonderful experience.they all were like family to me but bill was different, every other member i saw as a brother but him something about him was different.he was confident, silly understanding, caring, and obviously sooo handsome.

bill and me had become best friends over the years, doing each-others makeup, shopping together, writing lyrics together, sometimes we even cuddled together in the tour bus.

the other boys would poke fun at us and say “can yall just kiss already?” or tom would usually say “bill fuck her before i do.” we both would just nervously laugh it off but something about the way he looked at me longingly afterwards told me maybe he did want to do just that, but too afraid to just say something.

today we had to do some recording and stuff in the studio, i was the first to arrive making my way inside beginning to set up and plug in my guitar.

then the door suddenly opened and there came in my favorite boy ever, little to no makeup on, his dreads resting on his shoulders, wearing some black sweats, his adidas sweater and a pair of sneakers.he yawned as he closed the door and made his way over to me, tapping my shoulder from behind.

“hallooo liebling! (hi darling).” he said his thick german accent coming through as he clapped his hands excitedly together.

i turned around meeting his gorgeous hazel eyes and cheesy smile, i quickly return the smile “hii billy!” i reply matching the same excitement as i pull him into a gentle embrace, before letting go.

he lets go as well before taking a seat on the nearby stool tapping the one next to him, signaling for me to sit as well.i nod and take a seat turning myself to the side now facing him, he does the same thing, our eyes meeting again.

we began talking about whatever random things we always talked about giggling and laughing our heads off like we always did, not realizing 30 minutes passed and the other boys still hadn’t shown up.

when we do realize, we confusedly check the time seeing it’s been an hour passed the original time we were supposed to be recording and working on some new lyrics.we debated on leaving or waiting it out for a little while longer, we figured it could just be traffic.

we decided to make use of us being at the studio and began to work on this song we came up with “down on you”.

“how about we change it to -an angels kiss is waiting- ?” i suggest humming it softly to him.

“okay okay i like it!” his eyes lighting up at my suggestion, writing it down quickly on his notebook.

we continue working on the song for a bit (more like 5 minutes) before soon giving up, finding it too hard to work and also focus as bill keep cracking jokes and making me laugh.bill got up putting the notebook, coming back to sit down again.

he suddenly began to speak up again his demeanor now anxious and tense, “i have something ive been keeping from you and I don’t know an easier way to say this.”

“bill what’s wrong, it’s okay i won’t judge you if its something bad?”i responded trying to sound as reassuring and polite as possible, trying to make him feel at ease.

“ich mag dlich wirklich du bist alles was ich wollte und suchte.ich weib dass es kompliziert sein wind wenn du schriebst dass ich auf tour bin, wir werden dafür sorgen, dass es klappt, das verspreche ich. (i really like you, your everything ive wanted and been looking for.i know it will be complicated when you write i tour, we’ll make it work i promise).”he said looking down to not see my expression.

truly i was shocked but not at his confession but that I was right, i knew he felt it too!

“ich mag dich auch wirklich, du hast recht, wir werden dafür sorgen, dass es klappt liebe. (i really like you too your right, we’ll make it work love).” i reply while reaching my hand down grabbing his chin making him look up at me, letting go once his eyes meet mine.

his expression transforms into a delighted and happy one a smile now tugging at the corners of his lips, his eyes glistening with joy.he then leans in wrapping his arms around me as he holds me in a tight and warm embrace, kissing the top of my head.

he sways me in his arms for a moment longer before letting go, his hand now intertwined in mine.looking at me with so much excitement and adoration, (this guy was whipped).

i move in closer closing my eyes as i place my lips upon the lips ive been longing for forever, catching his lips into a gentle and perfect kiss.fireworks seemed to pop around us, our first kiss of many.

he moved his hand onto the side of my waist the other on the back of my head keeping me in place. his tongue finding its way inside, our tongues soon moving in perfect harmony.he’s an even better kisser than i ever imagined, tasting like mint and sweet honey.

the moment was quickly put to an end as we heard the sound of hands clapping and laughing, we both confusedly pull away and look over, seeing tom, gustav and, georg giggling like little school girls.

“when did yall come in?!” me and bill unanimously yelled.

“oh not long ago yall were just too busy swapping spit to hear us come in, so we decided to enjoy the show.” tom chuckled crossing his arms over his chest, the other boys still laughing.

“TOM!”we both yell.

THE END

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-three

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

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

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

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

Authors Note: i hate how this took me all day to write. I just want to keep writing this story!

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98

I sat in the front lounge area of our bus on the couch with my legs crossed, laptop in my lap, as I scrolled through the Spotify playlist I finished creating. It was quiet up here, the rest of the guys of Hollow Souls were scattered throughout; Malcolm was out for a run around the block, Chase was hanging on Bad Omens bus, and Trey was still asleep in his bunk.

It was only 9:30 in the morning but I knew he would sleep most of the day away especially since it was our day off. We were already at the next city, parked in the venues lot, and since we didn't have to worry about sound check or setting up yet, we all did our own things.

Me? I had been debating all morning if I should create this playlist but in the end figured it was the best thing to do. I was touring with Bad Omens after all, shouldn't I be familiar with their songs?

For the next while I let Noah's voice blast through my headphones as I danced in my seat as Limits played, banged my head as Hedonist screamed in my ear, and felt my heart fall out of my ass when his soft voice of If I'm There buried deep in my soul. The lyric struck me right away and the pure raw emotion that oozed out of Noah made my heart skip a beat, almost as if I was about to pass out.

Fuck what Trey thinks, I need to watch these guys perform tomorrow night.

Malcolm came bounding up the steps, sweat dripping from his auburn hair that was falling around his bare shoulders in waves, and gave me a smile.

"Okay two things," I scrunched up my nose as he sat next to me. "How the fuck do you run so early in the morning, with your hair down no less? And you fucking stink."

"Oh, listening to our tour buddies I see," he ignored my observations by nodding to my laptop screen.

I shrugged. "I was the only one of us that wasn't familiar with them and now I'm pissed it took me so long to discover them. They're amazing."

Malcolm agreed with a nod. "Noah's voice has grown so much from their first album, it's actually impressive. It would be sick if we got him on a song for our next album."

"Trey would immediately shut that down. He hates collab's between artists," I closed my laptop and set it on the small kitchen table next to me.

Malcolm sighed while running a hand through his long locks. "We really should talk about-."

"No," I sliced my eyes into him. "I'm not having this conversation with you when he's a few feet away from us. We can talk about it later when he's not around."

"Alright," he nodded. "I'm going to hop in the shower. Chase still with the Bad Omens guys?"

"I think so," I answered, watching as he stood and made his way to the bathroom.

"Cool. You should get ready, we're going to hang with them for the day. Wear something cute!" Malcolm called over his shoulder before the bathroom door shut.

I blinked slowly at the space in front of me for a few moments before staring down at my outfit; black leggings and an oversized shirt. Which would have been fine for a day of lounging on the bus but going out in public called for an outfit change.

And that Noah will be there has nothing to do with it.

Ignoring the voices in my brain, I trekked over towards my bunk where I had a suitcase already open, clothes folded neatly into small piles and rummaged through before deciding on a pair of biker shorts and one of our merch shirts I rolled up the bottom of to show off part of my stomach. It was a warm day in Wisconsin so I wanted to be comfortable.

As I slipped on my docs and finished french braiding my hair, Malcolm emerged from the bathroom also dressed and ready to go.

He nodded in approval. "Much better."

I snorted and patted his chest while walking past him. "Glad you think so."

"I think you should change your shirt though."

"What's wrong with my shirt?" I asked suddenly self conscious about the way I looked. "If it's showing too much, I can change-."

"Fuck," Malcolm sighed. "Trey's warped your mind so bad. No, Y/N. You look great, I'm just saying it would be better if you wore this."

He tossed me a different shirt, one I caught with ease, and when I held it in front of me I gave him a raised brow.

"Really?"

"Meet you at the OMENS bus. I'll text Trey to let him know where we're at," Malcolm pounding his knuckles with mine before leaving the bus.

With my bottom lip caught between my teeth, I decided not to dwell too much on the decision of wearing the shirt. That's all it was, a shirt. If he got upset about it, he can fuck right off. Once changed in the new shirt, I realized it was a bit long since it clearly was Malcoms who was atleast a foot taller than me. The shirt rested about mid thigh and covered most of my biker shorts. I let out a few deep breaths to center and calm myself, because the idea of hanging out with the guys without Trey made me nervous.

Yes that was it, not because Noah was going to be there. Ever since we hung out the other day, all I could think about was his tattoos or the way he instilled so much confidence in me as he spoke deeply about my lyrics. No one has ever had an in-depth conversation about my lyrics before since they all thought Trey was the one that wrote our songs. The only thing Trey was good for was his screams, which I had to admit were faltering. Our energy and connection on stage wasn't the same anymore but thankfully, none of the fans cared to notice. As long as Trey dared them a glance, they were happy.

So with the confidence from my conversation with Noah the other day, I walked out into the warm morning sun, bare legs and arms on display for everyone to see. While my right leg had no tattoos, every inch of skin was covered in ink. The bright rays burned my eyes, so I slipped on my sunglasses while throwing my purse over my shoulder and made my way towards Bad Omen's bus, hearing a round of laughter emanating from the back of it.

As soon as I walked up, the conversations continued for all but one. Noah, who was talking to someone I hadn't recognised, turned his attention to me and even through his own sunglasses, I felt the burning gaze from him as he took in every inch of my body. I shrank into myself as others started staring at me but Noah's was the most intense, and I ran my sweaty palms along my thighs.

"What?" I asked.

"Nice shirt," Folio smirked. "We haven't seen that design in a while. Almost forgot it was a Bad Omens design."

I fiddled with the bottom of it and shrugged. "If we can move on from my outfit choice, that'd be great."

The voices in my mind were screaming at me to run back to my bus to change and my feet turned when Noah's voice stopped me.

"You look good."

Three words.

Those three words ignited the blaze across my skin and all I could do was nod because I was so nervous to say something, afraid I would make a fool of myself. Noah also looked good. No scratch that, he looked fucking beautiful with his hair flowing freely across his shoulders and the white shirt he wore hugged his chest and arms in all the right places. The bottom half of his tattoos were on display and I couldn't help myself as I stared at them, something I didn't realize Noah was doing the same to me.

"Hey, I'm Matt," the man who was talking with Noah smiled.

"Y/N," I gave him a small wave.

"So," Chase spoke. "There's this really awesome zoo just around the block. Figured it be cool to check out?"

We all nodded in agreement and began walking in our large group; three of Hollow Souls, four Bad Omens, and two of their crew members. Matt, their manager, and Bryan, their photographer who had a camera slung around his neck. I walked in steps with Chase on one side of me and Nick on the other. Once again, Nick was looking down at the tattoo on my leg.

"You love to analyze the designs, huh?" I joked.

He shrugged. "I can't help it. Does the design on your leg have a meaning?"

It was a large tattoo of several Greek Gods sitting on top of Mount Olympus; Athena, Artemis, Ares, and Posiedon. My favorites.

"Uh, I'm a huge Greek Mythology nerd and these are some of my favorite Gods," I gave a sheepish smile.

Malcolm turned to face us as he began walking backwards. "Don't get her started on Zeus."

I pointed a finger at him. "Everyone thinks he's the most all mighty God when in fact, he was a douche! One of the worst Gods. Makes me so angry everyone puts him on a high pedestal."

Chase chuckled. "Way to go, Malcolm."

Noah walked ahead of me a few feet and as I continued to talk with Nick, I could see out of the corner of my eye when he would turn to face me; almost making sure I was still here. Soon the entrance to the zoo stood in front of us and as I pulled out my wallet to pay, I realized it was missing.

"What the fuck?" I murmured while riffling through my purse.

"Something wrong?"

Gazing up through my sunglasses, I saw Noah looking at me with concern. He pocketed his glasses so I could see the browns of his eyes sparkle in the sunlight.

"No. Well yea," I sighed letting my purse fall to my side. "I must have left my wallet on the bus. You guys ahead. I'll see you back at the venue."

It all happened so fast; Noah pulling out his own wallet, asking for two tickets, and handing the person behind the counter the correct amount of change.

"Noah," I scolded. "You didn't have to do that!"

"Come on. They're waiting for us," Noah said with an extended arm in front of me.

The rest of the group hung back just inside the entrance as they watched us with their own wondering eyes.

I didn't move however, only kept a stern gaze on Noah through my glasses. "I had no problem going back to the bus."

He scoffed while dropping his arm. "Right, to sit with Trey while the rest of us have fun? How is that fair?"

I pursed my lips, unsure how to respond, so instead with a long sigh, I walked past him towards Chase who had a large smirk on his face.

"What?" I asked, slightly irritated.

He motioned to Noah behind me. "He was checking out your ass."

I never whirled around so damn fast before in my life and one of my braids slapped me in the face as I looked at Noah, who in fact was starting intently at me. When our gazes locked, he quickly averted his over to Bryan.

For the next while, I walked with Chase as we stopped every few minutes to check out the animals at the zoo. Halfway through our visit, I stopped to grab a pretzel with cheese thanks to Chase who paid. When we then stopped in front of a large sign showcasing the map, I gasped excitedly while pointing to it.

"They have wolves!" I turned on my heels towards everyone.

"So dogs?" Folio teased with a smirk.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "How dare you! They're not just dogs. Well, I guess they are since they descend from wolves. But-." My ramblings fell off my lips when I saw Noah staring at me.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" I wiped at my face, afraid there was dried cheese on it.

"No," Noah's voice was low. "I just like how you look when you're so passionate about something. It's cute."

Turning my face away from him so he couldn't see the way I blushed, I nibbled on my bottom lip. "We don't have to go see them."

"To the dogs-I mean wolves!" Folio exclaimed with a hand up in the air.

I all but ran to the encloser that was only a few feet away from where we were and as we approached the high chain-link fence, I bent low so I could peer through hoping to see them. With what I knew about wolves I wouldn't catch a glimpse because of the heat today. It was almost like this every time I tried to see wolves at any zoo.

Everyone stood back, a quiet hum of their conversations background noise, until with a frown I rose to my feet not realizing Noah was standing behind me. I felt his warm body heat envelope around me and I peered over my shoulder to him.

"I could stay here for hours just waiting," I admitted with a smile.

"We can stay," Noah suggested.

"No," I shook my head while turning to face him. "We can go. I don't want to make the others hang around for nothing."

His long lashes brushed across his cheek as he blinked slowly, eyes never once leaving my face. My heart was beating so fast at how close we were and I wanted to take a step back, I really did, but there was this invisible force that kept us tied together. It pulled my hand away from my purse strap to brush some hair out of his face but before the action took place, Malcolm's loud voice hollered over to us, breaking the trance we were in.

"If you two are done staring at each other, Jolly wants to go see the tigers!"

Retreating away from Noah, I scurried over towards the group of the guys as we made our way over to the next large encloser, Noah trailing slowly behind. While Jolly interacted with the tigers, I hung off to the side lost in my own thoughts. Often I would check my phone to see if Trey texted me but nothing. I was gone for hours already, wouldn't he have noticed we were gone?

Maybe he was still asleep?

I tried to think of scenarios of why he wouldn't text or call instead of thinking of how close Noah and I got back at the wolves. It was wrong of me to think of another man like that. It was also wrong for me to keep stealing glances his way all day or wondering what his skin on mine would feel like.

Almost in a trance of my own thoughts, I followed the group when we reached the petting zoo area of the zoo where you could feed deers.

"Oh, sick!" Nick exclaimed.

I, on the other hand, did not think so.

"Do you want too?" Noah asked me.

"I'll watch. You can't trust these guys, they'll try to eat your shirt." I said.

I watched him bend to his knees as a smaller deer came up to him, licking up the food from his open hand. Noah smiled brightly as the deer nibbled the cracker from between his fingers and I couldn't stop my smile as it pulled at my lips. It was one of those smiles where the skin next to your eyes crinkle and cheeks hurt from how hard your smiling.

His smile could make you forget all the bad in your life. It brought so much light to the darkness that filled my soul of the last few months. My stomach burned with something unknown and it scared me that one person could cause this intense feeling; who I wasn't even dating. Trey never once made me feel this way or even tried too. All Noah had to do was smile at me and I was on my knees in a puddle mess of desire.

"Are you going to keep staring at me or help?" He smirked up at me.

Embarrassed at getting caught, I reluctantly bent down next to him and took a cracker he extended towards me. "I swear if this little shit bites my finger, I'm going to kick your ass."

Noah bumped his shoulder with mine. "It's a deal."

"Okay, I'll admit this is kind of cool," I mused while scratching a deer on its nose.

When he didn't say anything, I turned my head slightly towards Noah but sucked in a breath when I realized how close we were. His warm breath fanned over my lips as his eyes tracked every movement of my tongue made as I licked my suddenly dry lips. We were so close I was afraid that if I leaned forward slightly, our lips would brush across each other. I could smell the lemonade he drank earlier as the scent tickled my nostrils.

Noah swallowed thickly, and a noise came out of the back of his throat as he went to say something but was cut off by someone's screams. For the second time that afternoon, we were broken out of our trance like state to see Nick and Malcolm running away from a group of deers that were chasing them.

"Uh," my voice stammered. "I should probably go help him."

Quickly rising to my feet, I left Noah behind to go save my idiot friend from a couple of deers that just wanted something to eat.

NOAH

A yawn fell past my lips as I stretched out my long limbs before leaning up against the cool metal of our tour bus, the cool night air wrapping around the small group of us. We all returned from the zoo a little while ago and while Bryan and Matt went to the crew bus and Malcom and Chase went back to theirs, I was standing with Folio and Y/N, as she pulled out some cash that she grabbed from her bus.

"Please take the money, Noah. I feel terrible that you spent your money on me," she extended the two twenty-dollar bills towards me while she clutched the small wolf stuffed animal underneath her arm.

Something I surprised her with on the way out of the zoo.

Her eyes sparkled as she eyed the gift cart when we walked past it. "Would it be stupid for a grown woman to want a stuffed animal?"

She asked to Malcolm, who merely shrugged in response. So while she wasn't looking, I bought a wolf one for her.

I didn't miss the way her lips parted in surprise when I gave it to her. Or the way she let out a long shaky breath before muttering to herself.

"He doesn't even buy me anything."

She didn't have to say his name; I knew who she was talking about.

"I'm not taking your money," I shook my head.

Y/N groaned and tried to give the money to Folio who raised his hands as if the money was cursed. "I'm not taking it either, Y/N. When Noah wants something, there's no changing his mind. He wanted to pay for you today, accept it."

"Fine," she stuffed the money into her pocket. "But I owe you back with something, Noah."

Folio was fast to speak before I could even argue. "Why don't you come hang out on the bus with us for a bit?"

Y/N's body went rigid, eyes glancing over to her bus so fast I almost missed it.

"It'll be fun. Even for a bit," Folio smiled before walking up the stairs of the bus, leaving her and I alone.

Alone.

Just the two of us.

For the first time all day.

I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly very nervous. With the others around, I could act cool around her but now under her bright eyes, my knee buckled.

"It might be fun if you hang out with me-us," I quickly corrected myself hoping she didn't notice. "We could play Mario cart?"

I stared down sheepishly at my feet, trying to find the courage to ask a girl to hang out with me. Not that fucking hard so why did my voice waver every time I tried to talk to her.

"We could play monopoly but that wouldn’t end well. Jolly thinks he’s the bomb at games and we spend most of the time kicking his ass.”

Another quick glance to her bus as she shifted on her feet something I realized she was doing because she was nervous Trey would come out any moment. According to Chase, Trey didn't call or text her all day to see where she was or at least check in on her.

"Hey," my fingers brushed along the inside of her wrist, getting her to finally look at me instead of fear to her bus. The spark that shocked through us nearly had me rear my hand back from the intensity. "You don't have to go back, you know."

Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

My heart pounded as I forced the words out of my mouth before I second guessed myself. "Stay till morning? Knowing Trey, he's probably going to be nursing a hangover in the morning so he won't even notice you're not there."

"Where would I sleep?" Her voice was hushed, barley above a whisper.

With me.

"We have extra bunks," I said.

She blinked for a long moment, letting my words process in her brain. She was highly debating my offer but in the end; she shook her head.

"It's been a long day and I should head back. I'm sure Trey is wondering where I am."

The disappointment was evident on my face and I had to bit my tongue not to lash out with a comment about how much Trey did in fact not care.

"Sure," I nodded. "Let me walk you back to your bus then?"

Clutching the wolf stuffed animal closer to her chest, she nodded with a smile playing at her lips. It wasn't a long walk so my mind was running rampant with something to say to keep the last little of this perfect day alive.

"I don't think I mentioned how much I like you in my shirt."

Shit, I didn't mean that.

"Our shirt. The band's shirt," I quickly recovered when I noticed the playful gleam in her eyes.

We came to a stop in front of the door of her bus, the lights off inside which meant that either no one was in there or they were asleep.

Her gaze darted to the windows back to me. "I had a really fun day today, Noah. Thank you."

My fingers itched with the need to brush a strand of hair that came loose from her braid but I resisted.

"Anytime, angel."

Fuck.

She raised a brow at me, a reddish tint creeping from her cheeks to the tops of her ears. "Oh, angel, huh?"

"Sorry, it kind of slipped out," I rubbed my chin nervously. "If you don't like it, I can-."

"No, I like it!" She rushed out. "A lot, actually."

That was an ego boost that I desperately needed. So, with a wink, I began walking backwards to my bus calling out in the dark night air. "Good because it stays, angel!"

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Seventeen

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Okay! Hi!:) Just have to say thank you for all the love you lot keep showing this series, it’s so mad and so very appreciated. Honestly makes me want to carry on writing. But I also wanted to add a quick warning to this update.. There is a lot going on, we finally get what we’ve been waiting for!! But there are other topics that also come into play. SO that being said please read the warnings below.

Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol abuse (past tense), as well as sobriety, also a previous death, bit gruesome but needed- this relates back to a conversation held between Matty and Jamie in Part Eight.

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

She never did call.

Matty waited, and then waited some more. He fidgeted the rest of the day, smoked his way through a pack of fags when they’d been down at the studio, and then nursed a single pint after having allowed the guys to bully him into one of the local pubs.

It wasn’t until much later that night that he heard anything from her at all, and it hadn’t been a call, but instead a text.

Messages now Squeaks xx I listened to it 

He’d been cooped up in his office since the second he’d gotten home, looking through a couple of older demos and other sound clips in hopes that he’d find something that would fit with the current sound of their new album. George had been on his case about it all, claiming he’d been too spaced out as of late, so Matty had huffed but ultimately followed through.

Songbooks from years before were piled up high on his desk and on the floor, pages full of chords and scribbled lyrics cluttered the rest of the space, but he continued on, using it to distract him from the torturous wait.

When his phone finally did buzz, Matty had almost decided not to answer it, figuring that it would just be a message from Jamie, or maybe his mum. He was still waiting for that ring. But fuck was he glad that he’d taken a glance. Otherwise he might’ve missed it.

Are you busy?

The next text had come through almost a minute after the first, as though she’d been debating sending it. Matty frowned down at the screen, pushing away from his desk slightly.

She’d heard it.

She’d heard the demo. 

He didn’t quite know how to feel about that, or what to take from her clipped response. It was why he had essentially asked her to call him, because at least then he would’ve been able to somewhat determine what she’d thought about it, how she might’ve felt.

His tongue slid between the row of his front teeth in thought, staring down at the messages he’d received whilst his thumbs hovered over the keyboard looking for something to say.

Can you come over?

His fucking breath got caught in his throat just reading that, his tongue suddenly too big for his mouth. Matty didn't even think before he hastily answered her, worried she might take it all back.

Give me ten minutes.

He could do ten minutes. 

Fuck it. He’d fucking speedtail it out of here and try for five if it meant that she’d just let him in again. The last week had been painful enough, no need to fucking prolong it.

So that was what he did, throwing on the first pair of trainers he’d found in the hallway and grabbing at the car keys he’d tossed down on the counter months earlier. Forgetting about the album and the work he’d planned to do, along with whatever else that had seemed so important just a second ago.

She called and he would come running.

…

It was pissing down by the time he made it to her place.

Headlights on and ignition still running, Matty went to make his escape from the driver's seat, practically vibrating with the anticipation of it all. But he did momentarily pause to yank the keys from beneath the wheel before eventually scrabbling his way out of the sidedoor, feet immediately dropping into the murky puddle sat beneath. 

He’d parked like a fucking dickhead, halfway onto the curb and his boot sticking out into the empty street, but he could care less about it as he jogged around the front of the car and up the first few steps to her door.

There was blood rushing in his ears, filling up his head and making him dizzy with it all. He raised a fist to knock, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

He’d gotten there in just under seven minutes. 

His heart was pounding like mad. 

He knocked. 

It was minutes or maybe seconds before he heard a slight scuffle on the other side. Before the hallway light turned on and peered through the painted window pane sat atop the familiar front door. 

The chain fell with a clang and Matty swallowed, watching on as the hinges creaked, revealing her face.

She stared up at him, standing in a pair of pyjamas he remembered seeing on a late night call of theirs, her hair all tied up in one of those pretty buns, soft curls escaping at the sides.

Her lips parted with her next breath, the sound of it jumped out at him and Matty couldn’t really hold back anymore. It had been six months. Six whole months. Almost to the day they’d met... Back when he’d been cocksure and arrogant. When he’d still been reeling from another stint in rehab, and from the stunt before the summer, and from Luke’s death.

Matty paused. 

He hadn’t really thought about Luke so easily. Not ever. Not since that night. Not in passing.

But she was currently staring back at him. Her eyes wide and tired. Shining in the light of the street lamps that crowded the street outside. 

Matty stepped forward, reaching for her. 

“Tell me to stop.” He muttered. 

She didn’t. 

And so his hand found the edge of her jaw, fingers nestling into a place at her hairline, skimming the tip of her ear.

“I can’t.” She answered him. Always so full of truth. 

And Matty, Matty was a selfish man. He’d been a selfish kid, too. A bratty teenager. A hellish son and an even worse boyfriend. Always so egotistical, so bold, so brazen. But even more so, selfish. 

He would take and take. And this moment was no different. He took.

Her mouth met his with an agonising fever, and there was an eager sigh that escaped in the breath shared between them that Matty couldn’t really determine if was his or hers.

She let him in so easily, let his tongue roam. She let him pull her close, let his hand find purchase on her hip and hear her moan. 

It was a whimper of a thing, a sound that was swallowed up by his mouth as he consumed her again. But it fuelled that fire within him, that heat which had been simmering so close to the surface of his skin for weeks, months now. 

“Mouse.” Matty said shakily, walking her backwards, further into the flat, where their feet shuffled over the hardwood floors. The door swung shut behind them and rattled in the silence before he was spinning and pressing her shoulders up against its cold wood. 

“Matty.” She breathed back to him, fingers catching on his neck, then his jaw, winding their way up into his hair. Tugging. 

A grunt escaped him and he pressed harder with it, teeth catching on her teeth, hands moulding into her skin. 

She tasted of something sweet, it coated the length of her tongue and melded well with the cigarette he’d lit on his way over. He wanted to taste more of it, found his nose pressing against the skin of her cheek in an attempt to do so. 

It was a second later that he felt himself rut up against her, accidentally mind, but the zip of his jeans tugged at the band of her bottoms and the movement made him realise he was hard. Had been half-way there from the moment she had texted him, but now, in her hallway, with her grinding up against him, and with those pretty little sounds she let slip, it was almost painful.

“Squeaks.” He managed to force out and she swallowed her own name right up, one arm wrapping around the length of his shoulders whilst the other tugged at the nape of his neck. 

Matty followed her demands effortlessly, a hand slipping under the hem of her shirt to feel at the warm skin hidden beneath, a calloused thumb brushing against the jut of her hip.

He explored, felt the edges of rigid flesh she kept hidden and out of sight, the freckles that lingered and dotted her torso, then wedged his knee between her legs. Hands grabbing at the backs of her thighs. 

One of her knees rode up higher on his side as he shifted even closer, letting her use him like a makeshift ladder to lift herself further up in the little space which stood between him and the door. 

He rutted again and the joint of her knee tightened by his hip, the heel of her foot digging into the back of his leg, forcing him even nearer. He grabbed at the swell of her arse, noting the way she arched into him at the touch. How her stomach tensed. 

It had just been pissing it down outside, he recalled belatedly, but her warmth in that moment seemed to dry up the remaining raindrops caught in his hair and along the shoulders of his coat. His fingertips pressed harder into her thighs at the thought, feeling the bottom of her shirt ride up higher between them upon catching on the zip of his jacket. 

She nipped at his lip, then his jaw, hands all but clawing at his neck and his back.

“Squeaks.” He tried again, brain hazy with want but needing to do this right. He had to do this right. “Squeaks.” Again he said, a plea within a shared breath between them, “Baby, please.”

She retreated all too quickly, letting him go with a sharp inhale. Lids heavy with avidity as she blinked back at him. 

Matty realised then that he’d had her pinned to the door, crowded against the wood and practically having lifted her up off of her feet. He swallowed thickly at the sight and willed his dick to calm the fuck down. But it had been way too fucking long. 

He was unhurried in the way he shifted beneath her before carefully letting her go, unwinding the leg he held at his hip before she slid slowly down his front. Feet hitting the cold wood floors with a soft thud.

He blinked and gone was that selfishness they had just shared, that immediate heat, and suddenly she was all wary, shy almost. Matty reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, before he steeled himself and finally took a step back.

“You came.” She murmured after a breath, and had his mind been in better shape he’d have been quicker with his quip.

But yet, he was left drifting in between the heady thrill and the uneventful come down they’d shared. 

He blinked slowly at her. Could see that the hallway light was the only one on, but somewhere, further down the hall, a soft glow from one of her many lamps crept its way past a door. 

“You said you’d call.” He found himself saying in reply, though it wasn’t the reprimand he’d thought it was. 

Her smile was soft then. Fond. 

His breath caught at the sight of her, still laboured from the minute before.

“After.” Squeaks whispered in recall. And Matty heard himself repeat it, “After, you said.”

She took a small step closer to him, the padding of her feet echoed in the narrow walkway. Matty’s hands twitched at his sides.

He saw her throat bob. 

“Tea?” She questioned, and Matty was both thankful and resentful for the quiet offer. 

He nodded, blinking owlishly at her. 

They stood there, not moving, for a long moment. The sound of a car passed, then the scuffle of a person or two outside, as well as the far off yap of a neighbouring dog. And still they just stood there, staring.

She took another step nearer and Matty attempted not to react to the way her fingers caught on the front of his coat, memorising the careful way she started to peel it off of him, turning so that she could claim it and then hang it off some place to the side. He looked at her the whole while, scared to take his eyes off her, in truth.

He licked at his lower lip when he caught her staring too and captured her hand in his when she went to step around him. 

“Tea.” He reminded himself and she smiled, eyes flickering across the length of his face. As though she was seeing him for the first time.

“Tea.”

…

Her kitchen always felt so homely. 

She had spices fixed to a rack on the wall, wound in growing ivy attached to the potted plant that sat on the windowsill beside it. Her fridge was dotted in magnets and polaroids, and a drawing of Teddy’s hung front and centre. The table was always so neat, though still cluttered with the odd crayon and lego piece, a bowl of fruit was perched in the very middle. She had one of those kettle cosy’s too, a knitted one that reminded Matty of days spent at his nana’s house when he was just a boy. 

His favourite part of all of it though, had to be her. 

He stood in the doorway and just watched as she puttered about the space, flashbacks of previous visits coming back to him. She had this easy grace about her, an elegance he always seen but could never quite make out. She was a piece to many puzzles in the way she typically held herself, so ready to fight and so willing to wilt, but in that moment she just was.

And Matty could hardly tear his eyes away from her, from the length of her back to the curve of her waist. The taste, the memory of her still coating his tongue.

He’d kicked off his shoes before he could trail a messy track throughout her home, so his footsteps were quiet when he finally crossed the kitchen tiles. He paused just behind her, his hands falling to her hips whilst his chin dropped to rest on her shoulder.

She allowed it. Picking up the kettle to pour over two mismatched mugs, he simply watched her work.

It was a difficult task not allowing his hands to wander, or to keep his mouth from pressing against the pulse in her neck, but he withheld, content to just hold her. Humming when she picked up the milk and thinking over the last day they’d spent together. That night at his.

They moved over to the table not long after, her kitchen blinds were still open so the moon gifted them all the light they needed. Matty kept close, knocking his knees against hers at the very corner of the table, unwilling to go without.

She was quiet still whilst she danced a finger around the rim of her steaming brew, Matty was mesmerised by the delicate motion.

A hum of hers broke the silence they had since settled in, the softness of it causing him to blink and look up, immediately recognising the faint tune of the demo he’d sent her.

He smiled, his eyes caught on to the one she wore too. Practically conspiratorial.

His legs reached outwards to capture one of her ankles between his feet, her gaze flickered back and forth between both his eyes. He wondered what she saw in them, what she made of him.

“I’m guessing you liked it then.” Matty spoke, voice ever so low, still scared to break their languid solitude.

Mouse dipped her chin in a nod, peering up at him through dark lashes that made him want to catch her by the neck and pull her in again. He knew what she tasted like now, he felt as though it would forever haunt him.

“Thank you,” She whispered after, fingers cupped around the bottom of her mug. His brow furrowed.

“For what?”

She smiled again, blinking at him sweetly, “For my gifts, for always being so lovely, for sending me that song.”

Matty snorted, knowing that the last thing he could possibly be was lovely.

Fingertips touched his chin then and she guided his face back up to meet hers, he hadn’t realised he’d even looked away. But it was then that he was reminded of that night in his own kitchen, crowded between her legs and the counter, her kind eyes. You’re enough.

“Was it for me?” She questioned, watching him closely again. Something she tended to always do. “‘Cause that kiss, it sort of made it feel like it was for me.”

Matty grinned, eyes squinting with the strength of it. 

It was so easy- too easy, even- for her to make him smile like that, and he couldn’t even begin to decide whether he loved or hated the fact that she had the ability. 

“Yeah, Squeaks. It was for you.”

Her cheeks dimpled in an attempt to dim the smile she then wore, elbows pressing against the table’s edge, her foot resting on top of his own. “Good.” She murmured, leaning in closer now.

“Good?” He chuckled, following the motion. Eyes caught on the curve of her mouth.

“Uhuh,” She breathed into the small space between them, nose brushing against the side of Matty’s own. “Really good.”

He laughed again, low and breathy this time around, before he finally closed the distance and kissed her for a second time.

She laughed too, smiling against his lips.

–

For an insomniac, the dark was a place full of many contradictions.

Matty had spent countless hours staring up at all types of ceilings, in all sorts of places, and in all kinds of countries. But hers, he reckoned, was possibly his favourite. As most things had come to be in the short time he’d spent with Mouse.

Because even as she slept on beside him, bundled in the duvet and a blanket that smelt of her, he didn’t stress over the fact that he was still wide awake. 

His mind was too preoccupied to stress. Just thinking back to the expression she’d worn when she’d first opened the front door. To the breathy gasps that had escaped her in the hallway. The way she’d gently carded her fingers through his hair after she’d lured him into bed. Promising to talk more tomorrow.

He thought of Luke then, as well. As he often did whenever the darkness plagued him.

The fucker would be laughing if he could just see him now, obsessing and all soppy over some bird. Smiling away to himself in the dark.

But Matty knew that he’d be happy too. Glad that he was finally getting back on the right track. Actually trying this time around. Because Luke had known the hardships of addiction just as well as Matty had- it was what had killed him in the end, wasn't it.

He could still picture his face, both before and after the fall. One second they’d all been grinning on that roof, high as kites and drunk out of their minds, having the time of their lives, and then his had hit the concrete.

Matty’s stomach rolled at the thought.

At the eerie silence that had followed.

He’d been struggling that night, trying to get clean, to stay clean. And they’d only gone to the party, Luke and Danny, to appease him. Luke, having tagged along wanting to look out for him, to make sure that he didn’t get too caught up in anything he couldn’t get himself out of.

Luke had been sober three months at that point. Clean of the drugs and the drink. All of it. He’d drank that night though, the party had been at one of his dodgier mates places and he wouldn’t have been able to have stayed in the clear.

Matty remembered egging him on, telling him to live a little. To have a beer. A shot. And then another. And another. Someone else had offered him that line though.

He’d been hammered by the time some idiot had come up with that dare and they’d all thought it had been a sick idea to try and walk the length of the roof. Like they were at Zippo’s sodding circus.

Luke had been doing so good. Matty had known it too. What with his first EP coming out that September, something which Jamie had made happen, and his new flat that he’d not long moved into. Away from the familiarity of street corners he knew far too well and faces of dealers that he’d seen time and time again before.

He’d been good. Been going steady.

Then he was just dead.

Matty didn’t close his eyes then, even as they began to water. Didn’t want to see him like that. Knew that he would if only he shut his eyes. Because he couldn't stand to see the reminder, the life that had left him too quickly.

A slight sniff broke him from his thoughts then and he stilled as Mouse moved and turned in her sleep.

He let himself breathe a little easier once she’d settled again, tucking her face into the crook of his shoulder and nestling further into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, needing her close, and then finally allowed his eyes to fall shut, burying his face in the top of her hair.

He wondered if she’d let him stay from now on and pressed a long kiss to her forehead.

He hoped that she would, listening to the quiet that hummed throughout the rest of her flat as his mind began to let go of what consciousness it had once clung on to.

‘Tomorrow’ was his final thought before he eventually drifted off. It had been a long time since he’d thought that he’d ever make it to a tomorrow.

–

It was a grunt I woke up to. The heavy and unfavoured kind, the type that was only ever forced out of you when you received a hefty blow to the stomach.

I felt my face wrinkle as I pressed in closer to the warmth beside me, unhappy to have been woken. But then I heard a whisper, followed by a giggle, which had me blinking blearily and peering up at the toddler now towering over me.

“Wake now?”

“Teddy.” I heard someone else laugh right above my head, and I was quick in the way I looked up, recognising that the warmth I’d been clinging to had been Matty all along. “You’re an actual monster, you know that?”

Teddy squealed happily when Matty tickled his sides, but seemed content with his place on the man’s stomach and the fact that Matty was here at all. 

I wanted to groan at the very idea, I hadn't much thought this through. Not when I’d heard the song, thinking back to the night I’d spent at his, the fight we’d had, the way he’d held Teddy and promised him that things would soon be alright.

It hadn’t felt real. It still didn’t.

“Wake?” Teddy said to me again and I had to give a soft laugh when I felt his finger prod at my cheek, which was probably marked with the line of Matty’s t-shirt now. “Yeah?”

I chuckled again, peering up at him. “Yeah, I’m awake.” I replied, smiling before I rubbed at my eyes.

Matty’s arm seemed to be tucked up under me because it twitched a tad when I moved. I grimaced at the loss of feeling he must have experienced and murmured a quiet “Sorry,” shuffling over slightly so that I could free the limb. But he merely laughed to himself before his hand came up to rub at my arm, keeping me close. 

“It’s fine.” Matty replied, his voice tinged with sleep and grainy from lack of use, but then he winced and flexed his fingers, “Oh.”

I snorted softly and glanced up at him, “Pins and needles?”

His nose wrinkled further, as did his lips when he tilted his head back and tried to shake loose the feeling from his wrist. I let him have his arm back, turning over onto my stomach to simply watch him, drinking in the sight of him whilst I still could.

“Yeah.” He hissed out and Teddy, who was watching too, started to shake his arm alongside Matty.

Matty only noticed the mimicking movement when he felt the toddler shift on his torso and opened his eyes up only to laugh at the way that Teddy was now copying him.

“Oi,” He admonished, using his other hand to playfully pinch at the boy’s side, “What you think you’re doin’?”

Teddy giggled, hair a mess from having just woken but grinning all the while. “Dancin’! Like you!”

I shook my head and bit back my sudden amusement before dropping it down into my hands when I couldn’t quite manage to hide my growing smile.

“Oh, we’re dancing are we?” I heard Matty say, and could feel the grin he probably wore. Then Teddy was laughing again and squirming beside me once more, sounding so happy, before the bed tilted more so to one side and a soft thud was heard. “Oi, where you off to!” Matty asked him whilst Teddy’s giggles still echoed around the space.

“Tele!” Was the only response he got and I listened to the way Teddy’s feet hurried out of the room, having escaped Matty’s merciless tickles.

There was a quiet for a moment before I felt a hand come to cradle my head and fingers card their way through my hair.

I leaned into the touch, savouring it. I didn’t think anyone had ever touched me with such a softness before, like I was something to be treasured, to be held and kept close.

It was a long while before I finally raised my head again, blinking at the sweet sight I was met with. I smiled at the mess his curls were in and the way his eyes squinted in the dim light of the room.

“Hi.” I whispered and his fingers stilled in my hair when he looked back at me. 

Matty didn’t say a thing though, merely shuffled further down the bed, the duvet being kicked somewhere to the bottom before he finally settled in beside me, both our heads now resting on a single pillow.

His fingertips skirted along the edge of my jaw and trailed across the bottom of my lip before his thumb reached out to catch it too, pinching the flesh ever so slightly.

“You snore.” Matty said to me then and my mouth dropped open slightly in offence.

“I do not.”

He snorted to himself, grin widening, “You do.”

I shoved him but his hands were quick to grab at my arms, wrapping them up and moving to press them against his chest. “It’s cool though, they’re cute snores.”

“How the fuck can they be cute, Matty?”

He rolled his eyes at the ask, still grinning away. “Like, just soft and stuff. Don’t stress, I’ve roomed with George and he’s got the lungs of a whale or summat. I could probably sleep next to a fog horn and feel at home.”

A bright laugh escaped me at that, before I was shaking my head gently and looking back at his sleepy smile. “That makes me feel so much better.”

Matty smacked his lips around another grin, shrugging the shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the mattress. He reached out then, brushing a loose strand from out of my face and let his thumb linger on a freckle.

“Your breath stinks as well.”

I bit into my bottom lip at that, narrowing my eyes at him. “Well yours is no better! And besides, you didn’t seem to mind it much last night.”

I went to turn over then but he was hasty in his movements to grab at me, tugging me back towards him, closer this time. I laughed joyfully, “Hey!”

“Hi.” Matty grinned smugly once we'd settled, his hand falling to the small of my back.

I was gripping one of his shoulders now whilst my other arm laid in the little space between us. “I said that already.” I told him, feeling each soft exhale that escaped him. 

He hummed, thumb rubbing circles into my skin. “I missed you, you know.”

My brow furrowed, “You slept right beside me, you muppet.”

He pinched my hip in retaliation and so I chuckled. “You know what I meant.”

I did know.

“Missed you, too.” I murmured, letting my fingertips trail up over the side of his neck, liking the feel of his barely there stubble. “But-”

He stopped me then, nudging my cheek with the tip of his nose, “I know. Later, yeah?”

My eyes fell closed and I hummed in agreement, later was fine. We could talk later.

His hand pressed against the curve of my back, forcing me even closer, and so my fingers worked themselves into his hair. I exhaled softly and tilted my head forward just a touch. He closed the distance between us in a single heartbeat.

Kissing Matty was different, everything about it just felt right in a way that no other kisses ever quite had. Things appeared to click. Fall into place around me. 

But don't get me wrong, it was painful too, because there was that ache in my chest again, the hole that hollowed out my unforgiving heart. I wanted him but at the same time, I was too terrified to reach out and touch.

Our lips brushed, once, twice, then a third time, hesitant and careful, before something shifted and I was taken back to the previous night. To the way his fingers had dug deep into my thighs, to the front door pressing against my spine, to the way he’d held me so weightlessly.

Talking could wait til later, I reminded myself.

Now, all I wanted was for Matty to consume me and I immediately gasped at the cold hand that dragged its way up my side to tease me, thumb brushing against the nipple that hardened beneath it. 

I wouldn’t let him have all the fun though, so without a second thought I rolled him over and settled on his hips. He was surprised by the change but adapted seamlessly, rutting up off the mattress to meet me, one hand still toying with me, taunting, whilst the other cupped the back of my head.

It was back and forth for a short while, mouth chasing mouth, chests heaving with the force of it.

But then, a bang hollowed out the flat.

I jumped at the sudden noise and shot my head over towards the door, listening in closer.

“Okay?” I called out, noting the breathless quality my voice now had. I waited and didn’t move even when Matty’s hands came to just sit on my waist. 

“‘Kay!” I heard Teddy shout back and I released a semi-amused huff before turning back to face the man beneath me, “Sorry.”

And I was. I really was, especially when I forced myself to drop back down onto the bed sheets next to him.

Matty simply chuckled and I glanced over at him, smiling slightly when he reached out to swipe a gentle thumb over the scar on my jaw. “You’re good." I wondered if he was just saying that, but then, "What do you think he’s actually done though? Sounded like the bike to me.”

I sighed at the very thought. The bike had been one of my mum’s many Christmas gifts to Teddy, one which I hardly had any room for in the flat. I silently hoped that it wasn't the bike, but was caught on the way Matty had so easily adapted, moving on without complaint.

Was that normal?

Matty’s hand coaxed me back into looking at him again and I softened when I saw the smile he wore. “Later,” He reminded me, knocking a knuckle against my chin before he withdrew completely, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “How about a fry up then? There's that bakery by the studio or the cafe up near mine, choice is yours but it’s on me.”

“Matty.” I huffed, not a whine but near enough, extending an arm out in hopes that it would call him back to bed.

He smirked, glancing at me from over his shoulder once he'd stood. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Come on, got a growing boy to feed- Teddy too, I 'spose.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help my grin. “You’re an idiot.”

“So you’ve said.” He quipped and I could hear how his laughter filled the flat even as he headed for the bathroom, “Teds get ready, mate! We're getting bacon!”

I fell back onto the mattress with a smile, staring up at the ceiling above me with a little bit of hope.

[lesbians4armand]

Electra Heart is an Armand album - a thesis

Some of you may remember my preacher's daughter thesis of a very similar nature. Well, I'm back on my bullshit :) Somewhat for @misslovelace who I think will appreciate this

(under a cut as it will be long)

Bubblegum Bitch

Not a song I have ever particularly associated with Armand, If I am honest, so not the strongest of starts, but the more I think, the more it comes together. It's a very Amadeo song, really.

"Got a figure like a pinup, got a figure like a doll, don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all"

So much of Armand's self worth is so directly tied to his outward appearance and perceived beauty, that he is so used to playing into it, he simply doesn't care as much any more, he stopped caring even when he was mortal.

"I'm the girl you'd die for"

More than you'd know it. Many have.

"I'll chew you up and I'll spit you out, cause that's what young love is all about"

Knowing his beauty and effect on other men, Amadeo played into it, intentionally seeking out men who desired his youth and beauty as a distraction, only to cast them off. Of course this ends badly for him in the books as it eventually leads to his murder.

Primadonna

This song I don't have a lyric breakdown for as I don't think it fits Armand lyric-for-lyric, but more as a whole, his deep desire to be loved, to be adored, to be given everything, then his misery hidden not so far from the surface beneath. And you know he'd do anything for what he wants, even if it ruins him.

Lies

The first of the darker songs of the album, and immediately a deeply Armand song. I find myself debating what period of his life it fits the best, and I keep coming back to book-loumand's relationship.

"You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?"

Armand wants so much to be loved, to be desired more that superficially. Everyone wants him for what they can take, nobody wants him for what he is. When he meets Louis, he thinks maybe he will be, and in a way he is, they do love each other, but still not as Armand wants. louis is cold, distant, yearning for Lestat, who also brushed him off. What's the use in playing this game?

"Why don't we just pretend? Lies, don't wanna know"

Veering back into show loumand, why don't they just pretend? Armand lies and manipulates so they can pretend that they are happy together and that Armand did not kill Louis daughter and push Lois to attempted suicide.

"Can't let you go, can't let you go"

What is says there, the only thing Armand dreads more than not being loved is being entirely alone. He can't let Louis go even through all of this, as he cannot be alone, he can't.

"I just want it to be perfect, to believe it's all been worth the fight"

Again, if Armand crafts it to his perfections, maybe he will convince himself he is alright as he is, that is is worth everything he is done and that was done to him.

Homewrecker

Again, not one I have much lyrical breakdown on I'm afraid, however it does give me a strong vibe of both Armand's last mortal years in Venice as Amadeo, and also his relationship with Lestat. This one I just have to mentally transmit into your mind. Do you get it?

Starring Role

Okayyy I have a lot for this one. One of the loumand songs of all time, to me. Lets go.

"You're hard to hug, tough to talk to, and I never fall asleep / when you're in my bed, all you give me is a heartbeat"

I am not a loumand bed death truther, however I am a loumand zero emotional intimacy truther. There were whips and chains of all sorts on their walls, but in bed they sit so far apart, barely speaking.

"I've turned into a statue, and it makes me feel depressed/ cause the only time you open up is when we get undressed"

Much the same as my previous comment, but the statue lyric reminds me so much of Armand as Rashid, so still and silent in the corner of the room during s1.

"You don't love me, big fucking deal / I'll never tell you how I feel / You don't love me, not a big deal, I'll never tell you how I feel"

Again and again, lack of emotional intimacy, lack of any communication, lack of real desire.

"It almost feels like a joke to play a part, when you are not a starring role in someone else's heart"

From what I have said, you may be surprised by this, but I do believe Louis and Armand loved each other, I do. I think they'll love each other again, this is part of the tragedy, the horror. The love was there. What I don't believe, is that Armand was the love of Louis' life, and he knew that. He was not the "starring role," so to say, as he wanted to be. He may have wanted Louis more than anyone in the world, but Louis didn't feel the same, though he did love Armand, it was not enough for him, it felt like a joke, a cruelty. This is of course what causes Armand betrayal in Paris. Tragedy after tragedy.

"Sometimes I ignore you, so I feel in control / Cause really I adore you, and I can't leave you alone"

Armand patterns of neglect and abuse to find power he wishes for as he feels it is the only way to have any power combined with his consistent ned to never be alone are a horrifying combination. This lyric describes perfectly to me Armand's treatment of Louis after his attempt in 1973, his neglect so Louis stayed weak and under his command because he would not let him leave him, in any way.

"You're like my dad, you'd get on well, I send my best regards from hell"

This is interesting, as I do not believe that Louis actually is like Marius in any way despite the "Maitre" power play the pair had happening. It is at its core, a badly communicated and deeply fucked up projection from Armand to be a victim again, to want Louis to be like Marius so that he feels loved again in the way he sees love, but also to explain why he does what he does to Louis. They would not get on well, but Armand wants them to. It's all projection.

"I wait for you to open up, to give yourself to me / But nothing's ever gonna give, I'll never set you free"

He waits and waits to be the one that Louis wants, truly wants not just out of spite, but realises it won't happen and resolves to simply bearing, and making sure Louis can't leave him anyway, trapping them both in this prison. He'll never set them free, he's thrown the key away. Until Daniel finds it, of course.

The State of Dreaming

I see TSoD as a very TDV-era Armand song, post-Lestat and pre-Louis. Of course, "my life is a play" is a very obvious lyric, but the entire vibe of the song as a dark dreamlike state of performance you cannot escape is so fitting for Armand's years in a theatre cult coven.

Power & Control

Lesmand. I don't have any more to say here. It's lesmand.

Living Dead

This one is too obvious I fear but I'll mention it anyway. He is. Literally.

Teen Idle

Ah, where to start. Every troubled teen's anthem, a very Armand (particularly bookmand) song.

"I wanna be a bottle blonde, I don't know why but I feel conned / I wnna be an idle teen, I wish I hadn't been so clean"

The blondeness here is metaphorical I think, metaphorical for a sort of beauty that is intention, wanted, enhanced, something that you create, not something cursed to you. Armand feels conned by his beauty, something desired and coveted making many things worse for him, more difficult, causing so much pain.

He wants to be an idle teen, to to have been perhaps. Not as he was, as Amadeo was, so... busy, with so much, so many. Or maybe he wished he had been more so, less clean, less quick, messier. Maybe that would have spared him pain too.

"I wanna stay inside all day, I want the world to go away"

Easy thing to say as a vampire, especially an eternally teenage one.

"I want blood, guts and chocolate cake, I want to be a real fake"

He wants indulgent things, vampiric and human, anything he can get.

"Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible"

Armand's religious backstory, what more can I say. His loss of faith and difficulties with it are laid so clear here.

"The pretty lies, the ugly truth"

What more is there to Armand?

"The day has come where I have died, only to find I've come alive"

A teenager, forever. Dead, perfect.

"I wanna be a virgin pure, a 21st Century whore / I want back my virginity, so I can feel infinity"

I've been sitting here for minutes thinking of what I can say about this but its all in the lyrics. You already know.

"I wanna drink until I ache, I wanna make a big mistake, I want blood guts and angel cake"

Drinking until he aches has a double meaning to me, both his desire for blood as a vampire and for alcohol as mortal. The big mistake is either seducing Lord Harlech, or wishing to be a vampire in the first place. Then of course, another desire for blood, this time with angel cake. He was always describes as an angel, not quite human any way anyone looked.

"Adolescence didn't make sense, a little loss of innocence, the ugly years of being a fool, ain't youth meant to be beautiful?"

This just sums up Amadeo. It does.

Valley of the Dolls

This is where I move heavy into HC material, especially the hc that Armand suffers from some form of dissociative disorder, making Armand, Amadeo and Arun/Andrei distinct alters. The lyrics "living with identities that do not belong to me," and "pick a personality for free, when you feel like nobody" fit this extraordinarily well.

Hypocrates

I see this song as a very good explanation of my interpretation of Armand and Marius's relationship. Very good.

"You're the lonely, one and only, body in the world / Who can make me, who can break me down into a young girl"

Marius is, in many ways, the only one who holds any power over Armand on a personal level, for so many reasons, but this just brings up the part where Armand describes himself as being afraid of Marius. He still makes him feel like a mortal boy in his service again.

"I know you only want to own me, and that's the kind of love you show me / You tell me one thing and do another, keep all your secrets undercover"

This just sums it up to me. He does just want to own him, that is the only love being shown.

Fear and Loathing

"I lived a lot of different lives / Been different people many times"

Armand is consistently whoever those around him want him to be, he has never truly been his own person. Every new person, every lover he asks the same thing he asks Louis "who am I?", he creates a new life in his death.

"I lived my life in bitterness / And filled my heart with emptiness"

Armand learned, especially from the Children of Darkness, to not find pleasure or goodness in anything, especially not himself. He does not value himself or others, he is nihilistic quite constantly.

"Not everyone is out to screw you over / Maybe, yeah, just maybe, they just want to get to know you"

One thing I believe is intrinsic to Armand and his relationships with others is his fundamental lack of trust in them. He does not trust that they won't hurt him, they won't leave him, s he hurts them or himself before they can, makes them leave before they can choose to, before they can grow bored or fed up with him. He doesn't trust that anyone has good intentions, that ever actually love him.

"Got different people inside my head / I wonder which one that they like best"

Again, see Valley of the Dolls. I do see Arun, Amadeo and Armand as separate identities fighting to be the "real" one in a bid to keep safe if he can make others like them the most.

"And when the time comes along and the lights run out / I know a light will burn on when they blow me out"

There is one thing that Armand does very well, and it is endure. This is about him enduring. He will always burn on.

"Don't wanna be completely faithless, completely faithless"

Faith and religion are so SO important to Armand as a character, his belief in a higher power either blessing him or cursing him, but he cannot function without. He wants so much to hold some faith in what has happened to him, what continues to happen, that it is supposed to be in some way. It's a guide for him, if nothing else.

(Okay here I am going to skip How To Be A Heartbreaker as I do think it is the one song that does not fit, though at the same time Ithink amadeo would have loved it so shout out)

Radioactive

"My heart is nuclear / Love is all that I fear"

Would Armand know love if he saw it, if he experienced it? Or would he think it another trick, a play to gain something as it has always been to him. He fears love as much as he craves it as I doubt he even understands it. But his heart, his love is a powerful thing, a dangerous thing.

Sex Yeah

"Nothing is provocative anymore, even for kids"

'No one though children innocent of sensuous pleasures' :/

"All my life I've tried to hide what history has given me"

The ideas of history are really really interesting in this sound wrt Armand because of how much of his history is informed by sexuality. It's at every turn, every fight, every moment of his past and it is his legacy in many ways, take the painting. But what if he could fight that, could hide it, be something more, reclaim his personhood without forfeiting his sexuality. Maybe he has the time to, and has seen the culture change in so many ways.

Buy The Stars

I have very similar feelings to Hypocrates with this song, and I think it's similar in meaning when thinking of Armand too. Essentially I see this song as a representation of love as possession, a sort of love Armand had with Marius, and how owning and giving is not loving or knowing someone.

E.V.O.L

Devil's Minion song. So DM. "It only takes two lonely people to fuck love up and make it evil / It only takes a drop of evil to fuck up two beautiful people"

[tonicandjins]

eyes tell

characters: haechan/female reader genre: fluff, confession word count: 3.9k summary: donghyuck has been trying to confess his feelings to you. third time's the charm, he thinks.

Note: nothing but donghyuck brainrot for valentine's ^_^

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

DONGHYUCK KNOWS HOW MUCH YOU LOVE THE HOLIDAYS—the fairy lights surrounding every place in Gangnam, the Christmas songs playing in every corner of SM Entertainment (courtesy of every EXO Christmas album ever), the sound of kids singing Christmas carols—and he thinks it’s the best time to confess.

It’s a foolproof plan: all he had to do is take you somewhere under a mistletoe, look up and pretend he didn’t know there was one, show it to you, and VIOLA! A kiss under a mistletoe!

However, three hours into the small party the crew members threw for both NCT Dream members and the crew themselves, Donghyuck realizes it’s better said than done. He couldn’t, for the life of him, keep you in his space alone for more than two minutes. People are always pulling you from him—either to ask you to get something for someone or hand you a small Christmas present—and you are always too nice (too kind, oh, be still Lee Donghyuck’s beating heart) to say no.

Sulking, Donghyuck decides to settle on the couch, sitting between Jeno and Jaemin who are arguing about a stupid game they were playing earlier in the night. Donghyuck knows he’s pouting, and he’s pouting really hard hoping you would glance his way and kiss the pout out of his lips. Perhaps if he whines along that cute pout of his, you would hear and come running towards him and call him cute. But none of those happen because, of course, Mark Lee and Park Jisung are hogging you for themselves.

Donghyuck even wore a hoodie with your favorite color so he could catch your eyes tonight, yet here he is: stuck between Jeno and Jaemin who wouldn’t stop debating over everything and nothing at once.

It’s Renjun, bless his heart, who notices Donghyuck sulking while he watches you laugh with Jisung and Mark. Chuckling at Donghyuck’s distress, Renjun pulls him by the hand towards the small table where the sweets are.

“Let me guess,” Renjun starts as he offers a chocolate-covered strawberry to Donghyuck. Donghyuck pries his mouth open to take a bite, eyes still on you. “You’re sulking because she’s not giving you attention.”

“I wore something cute for her,” Donghyuck says while chewing. “But she won’t give me a second of her damn day.”

“It’s because you’re not trying enough,” Renjun answers. “What does she like most about you?”

“Does she even like me?” Donghyuck contemplates.

Renjun laughs, “Of course, she does!”

“Don’t,” Donghyuck whines. “Don’t keep my hopes up. It’ll break my heart.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Renjun assures. “Come on. Think about it. What does she like most about you?”

Donghyuck thinks as far as his memories allow him. You’ve told him a million times how much you like him—love him, even—and Donghyuck could only hope to become as vocal as you are when it comes to how you feel towards people.

One time, you told him about how easily he could make people gravitate towards him and how much you like his innate talent in grabbing people’s attention (which apparently doesn’t include you because here you are now, giving him 0 attention). Another time, you admitted loving how much he adores and cares for his family—specifically for his younger siblings—and you wish you had someone like him in your family (Donghyuck doesn’t want you to think of him like family, like a brother, damn it. He wants to kiss you on the lips).

Just as Renjun was about to say something, Chenle grabs everyone’s attention by testing the mic from the karaoke the crew had prepared for everyone.

“You know I love you, right?” Donghyuck remembers you asking in a drunken haze that one night you and him drank your guts out two days after his 22nd birthday. Donghyuck remembers nodding, but not truly realizing you had meant it. “I think I love you more and more whenever you sing. Sing for me please.”

Donghyuck remembers singing softly to your ears that night, and he realizes that’s what you probably like most about him.

Hence, he takes the mic from Chenle and enters the code to the first song that comes to his mind. As soon as he starts singing, he notices your attention back to his eyes. Donghyuck smiles in triumph, winking at you as he sings his heart out.

“Express your love four times a day, laugh eight times, kiss me six times,” Donghyuck sings his heart out. “It’s the only password to my heart, No one else can know it, only you can have me, you are my secret, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl!”

When it’s done, Donghyuck finally, finally sees you approaching him. Chenle takes the mic back from him and Donghyuck doesn’t even mind.

“Hello, Ms. Everyone’s Friend, you’ve finally noticed me,” Donghyuck jokes.

“Hey, as soon as you came here I hugged you,” you protest. “Not my fault all your friends like me. Hey, do you have a second?” you ask like Donghyuck wouldn’t give up anything for you.

He nods (a little too quick, a little too obvious), and lets you pull him by the sleeve of his hoodie, taking him to a small storage room, far from the noise and small crowd. Donghyuck isn’t aware of your proximity until you whisper a small hi.

“Hi,” Donghyuck says back, smiling as he look down on you, eyes locked in yours. “What are we doing here?” he whispers.

“I wanted to give you my gifts,” you whisper back. “I didn’t get the others a gift and I really don’t want them to feel upset that I only got something for you.”

“Y/N, my dear, what makes you think I’m not going to brag whatever you have for me on a daily basis?” he asks, chuckling as he watches you take a small box from your pocket of your hoodie.

“I figured you probably already have everything and this is something you can most likely afford to buy ten times, but…” you trail off. Even under the small light bulb, Donghyuck could see the blush on your cheeks.

He takes the small box from your hand, and it’s a box from a luxury brand, Donghyuck suddenly realizes he didn’t get anything for you for Christmas. He opens the present, and it’s that famous Thomas Trench bear bag charm from Burberry.

“He reminded me of you,” you mutter shyly. “You can put it on your hand carry bag whenever you travel. I mean, you’re going on tour with NCT 127, and like I said, it’s nothing big, like I said, you could probably buy this ten times, like I sai—”

“Y/N.” Donghyuck is going to kiss you now. He wraps an arm around your waist, caressing your back as he pulls you close.

“Donghyuck,” you whisper. You look up. Donghyuck does, too, and who would have known? A mistletoe right above the both of you.

Just when Donghyuck is about to lean in, of course—of fucking course, Park Jisung.

“Y/N noona, Renjun is about to sing your favorite song, aren’t—am I interrupting?”

You jump back from Donghyuck’s arm, looking at Jisung, then at Donghyuck, then back to Jisung, who’s still holding the door open.

“No, no,” you stutter a few seconds later. “I’m coming.”

You don’t look back at Donghyuck and follow Jisung.

Park Jisung is so going to get beaten up.

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

His second attempt came out of nowhere, unlike the first time he decided he’d confess and finally ask you out.

Donghyuck is in the hospital, and he feels like it’s the shittiest day of his life because it most likely is. They were in the middle of a schedule promoting Candy, and just when the music show was over, Donghyuck’s body failed him. His chest started hammering like crazy, and he had always thought this was normal because it happens to him all the time, until it started to hurt and his body started shaking unceasingly. The medics were quick to get to him as soon as Mark shouted for help. Donghyuck doesn’t really recall much of what happened; all he knows is that his body just collapsed and Jeno and Jaemin helped carry him so he could be transferred to a stretcher and that Renjun was on his phone already calling his Mom, probably because he knows Donghyuck would want them to call his Mom.

When Donghyuck wakes, hazy from the oxygen and the dosages of medicine they’d put through his dextrose, feeling adhesive patches stuck on his chest, he sees you sitting beside him. You’re on your phone, and you quickly bid goodbye to whoever you were speaking with as soon as you see him open his eyes.

“Donghyuck, baby, how are you feeling?” you ask, holding his hand. Donghyuck’s throat is dry so all he could muster up is a nod. “Your Mom and sister went out for a minute to get something to eat. I’ll call the doctor real quick.”

Before you could stand, Donghyuck reaches out to weakly grab your wrist, keeping you still on your seat.

“What is it, my love?” you ask. The influx of nicknames is making his heart hammer against his chest, and it’s proven when the cardiac event recorder starts beeping like crazy behind him. “Donghyuck, calm down. They’re trying to stabilize your heartbeat. I’ll call the doctor.”

“I love you,” Donghyuck barely whispers.

“Oh, baby,” you softly coo. “I love you, too. Now please let me get someone to check on you.”

Donghyuck can’t remember much after that. He could hear his Mom nagging in his ear, something about pacing and how he should really calm down. His sister was just whining in the background, saying that the expensive shit he buys for them aren’t worth it if it means they find him in the hospital multiple times a year. He reckons it’s the dosages of medicine that makes him hazy, but everything else are all blurred and toned down. While he lies on bed, high on oxygen, all he could see clearly is you—the worried look on your face and just the way your eyes are glued to him—and all he could think of is maybe love isn’t all about a big, grand confession one makes an effort to prepare for.

Perhaps love can be as quiet as the way he said I love you, hand weakly holding your wrist, voice barely audible. Perhaps love can be as simple as being there on days as quiet as this.

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

The third time Donghyuck musters up the courage to tell you about his feelings is about two months later, when NCT Dream just won the grand prize for a prestigious awards show.

He finds you in the crowd as they perform, and you’ve always been the kind to easily blend in the crowd, wearing your usual crew fit, a lanyard with your ID labeled as NCT Dream’s staff allowing you all access to wherever he is, but Donghyuck’s made it a habit to make sure you know that you stand out whichever crowd you try to blend in. Tonight, Donghyuck winks exactly at your direction when he sings the words to their hit songs, and he does it multiple times, making sure you’re as affected as he is whenever your presence is within a mile radius.

They’re on their way back to the dormitories. Tonight, Donghyuck is staying at NCT Dream’s dorm and will most likely share a bed with Jisung. He had a schedule the next day for 127’s fansign, but he doesn’t have much energy left and would rather share a bed than go back to the other dorm.

You sit on the back of the van with him, and by default your hand intertwines with his as soon as the lights and cameras are out. Donghyuck is so, so, so tired and happy, but he keeps himself cool and calm because he doesn’t need a part two of the hospital scene during the promotions for Candy. But Lord Jesus, what can he do when your first instinct as soon as you and him are out of people’s sight is to hold his hand? You know how much he loves holding hands. You might as well kiss him now if you’re planning his doom.

The other members are quiet. Donghyuck could hear Renjun snoring already.

Gently, you massage the back of Donghyuck’s hand, and seconds later, he could feel your lips softly kissing his fingers, humming the tune to one of the songs playing at the venue before the team left. Donghyuck smiles, content with the way his heart flutters at your actions.

“Y/N,” Dream’s manager asks while he takes a turn, his hands tightly holding the steering wheel. “Shall I drop you off at your building?”

“Yes, please,” you answer. “You know where it is, right?”

The manager hums and makes eye contact with Donghyuck through the rearview mirror. “Donghyuck.”

“Hm?”

“If you want to stay over at Y/N’s, you can. I’ll have someone pick you up at six in the morning tomorrow.”

“Really?” Donghyuck gasps, a little too loudly because Renjun groans as soon as he does. “Sorry. Will you really let me stay over?”

“Unless Y/N says no, then it should be fine. You deserve it,” the manager answers. Donghyuck turns to you, eyes pleading, as if you’d say no.

“As if I’d say no,” you parrot whatever he had in mind.

Donghyuck happily (but quietly) cheers.

“No funny business, Haechan,” the manager reminds as soon as the car stops in front of the building you live in. “Be ready at six in the morning.”

“I love you, hyung,” Donghyuck pouts, sending the manager a flying kiss, before opening the door and jumping, offering his hand to help you. “Thank you. I won’t stay up and I will wake up early.”

The other members mumble a quiet, tired bye-bye, and it seems like only Donghyuck has enough energy left to even tell each member he loves them. Their manager allows you and him to enter the building first before Donghyuck hears them drive away.

 It doesn’t hit Donghyuck that it’s his first time staying over for a night until he hears you lock the door and he gets a full view of your place. His confidence runs low when you start removing your coat and shoes, realizing that holy shit, this is real. He’s really staying the night at the love of his life’s safe place. Will you let him sleep on the same bed? Probably not, what is he even thinking? Of course, he’s sleeping on the floor, and you’re taking the bed. Why does he thi—

“Donghyuck, stop thinking and get rid of your shoes,” you interrupt his thoughts as your enter the small living room area, switching some lights on one by one. “Go take a shower.”

Donghyuck nods, following you while he carries his backpack of necessities. You lead him to the bathroom and tell him you’ll prepare the bed.

When Donghyuck is left alone, he decides that this would be the best time to confess to you, the only time he really can because you’re all alone and there’s no Park Jisung to interrupt your bubble. He starts the shower and composes his thoughts, thinking about the most beautiful words he could string so he could put the message across.

When he’s done, his mind is all fogged up just like the mirror in your bathroom. He hears you knock, asking if he’s done yet because you would also need to shower. He puts his clothes on, a shirt and some sweatpants, drying his hair with the spare towel you prepared for him, and opens the door to find you smiling softly as you wait for him. He steps out and allows you in, finding his feet padding on your warm floor.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” you say before locking the bathroom door. Donghyuck hums.

The door of your bedroom is already open when he reaches it. Donghyuck is suddenly so conscious of his presence inside your safe place, inside the privacy of your home. He’s never been here, and didn’t think this day would come so soon. He doesn’t know where to sit, if he’s even allowed to sit on your bed, and is not sure whether this is okay suddenly.

Your room is almost the same size as the one he shares with Johnny in the dorm. He finds your computer setup in the corner of the room, a small shelf of your favorite books displayed right beside it. He sees a vinyl turntable on top of the small shelf, and he makes a mental note to buy you a record the next time he visit a record store.

Donghyuck honestly doesn’t know what to do, so he settles himself on the swivel chair and takes his phone as he waits for you.

The sound of the shower running stops and the sound of what seems like a hairdryer echoes from the bathroom; it doesn’t take that long until you’re entering your bed room, hair still a little damp from the shower.

“What are you doing? I told you to make yourself comfortable,” you mutter as you enter, brushing your hair, yawning a little. Donghyuck looks up from the TikTok video he’s watching.

“I—I didn’t know if we’re staying on the same bed or, or, like…”

You giggle, walking towards him. “Oh, Donghyuck, you’re crazy if you think I’m letting you sleep on the floor.”

“So, like, we’re—we’re like sharing? The bed? Together, I mean.”

A look of surprise, more like confusion, flashes on your face. “Oh, is it not okay? If not, then we—I can, the living room, well, there’s a couch, and perhaps—?”

A second of silence.

Donghyuck starts laughing, and you do, too.

“We’re awful at this,” he comments, you agree and offer your hand. “How do you want this, my lady?”

“The bed has enough room for you and me,” you answer. “Come on, Donghyuck-ah. Let’s sleep.”

Donghyuck pulls you close, and you hold onto him like magnets connecting. Kissing the top of your head, he hums in content as you hug him tighter, your face nuzzled comfortably on his chest. You kiss his cloth-covered chest and make a comment about him buffing up especially on his chest area.

“Taeyong-hyung forces me to go to the gym. I’m glad you noticed,” Donghyuck jokes as you pull him towards the bed after switching the main light off, leaving the small light from your side table on. Donghyuck takes the right side and, as if you’ve been doing this for a long time, allows you to comfortably rest your head on his chest.

“Congratulations again,” you mumble sleepily. “You were so handsome on stage. I was about to fall on my knees.”

“Thank you, I made an effort to keep your attention on me. The entire venue was screaming for Jaemin. I need at least one person to keep their eyes on me,” he jokes.

“The world is your stage, Donghyuck,” you reply, voice softer. “You have everyone’s attention.”

“Some days, I only want yours.” This is it. This is when Donghyuck confesses and tells you about his undying love and how much he wants a future with you.

“You have mine every day,” you mutter, voice barely audible.

Hold on, God, are you really falling asleep before he could confess?

“I lo—Y/N, I’m having a moment. Please let me have this moment. Can you stay awake?”

“No,” you mumble. “Night.” Barely there.

“Wow,” Donghyuck sighs in disbelief. “You’re really sleeping when I’m about to give you my entire heart.”

Donghyuck hears you hum. Fuck it.

“I really,” he starts. “Really, really, really, really, really, really.”

He inhales, waiting. No response.

“I really, really, really love you.” There. No reaction.

“I have loved you for a long time,” he continues anyway. “I think the first time I realized it was when you were bringing food for us, and prior to that all members were talking about how much they’re craving for pizza. But when you arrived with the food delivery, you—” He chuckles at the memory. “You were holding a separate box for me. With fried chicken. For me. Because you know I don’t give a shit about pizza.”

He turns a little to kiss your hair.

“And it wasn’t even a eureka! moment,” he continues. “It wasn’t even a punch in the gut. It wasn’t loud, like my heart hammering against my chest, screaming for your name. It was—it was quiet. Like a tap on my wrist, telling me it’s always been there. You’ve always been in my heart. And you didn’t come in screaming, pulsating, crying. You walked in my heart, slowly and surely, like—like, the sun rising. It doesn’t abruptly rise from the horizon and blind everyone before they get the chance to wake up to start their day. The sun rises slowly, seeping through your curtains, gently waking you, kissing your skin like it’s the most precious thing ever. You’re like that for me. You’re the sun rising quietly into the horizon for me.”

“And I just—” Donghyuck sighs. “I wish I could say it better. I love you. I have loved you for a long time. I don’t think I’ll ever stop, so please let me say this. Let me tell you I love you.”

Donghyuck is left with silence for a few moments. And he wonders if he said it right. Honestly, he doesn’t even remember the words he said. He probably just spluttered nonsense. Main point is he loves you, and damn does he wish you were awake to hear all of it. He feels you breathe slowly, then—

“I love you, too,” you whisper, sniffling. He thinks you may be crying. “Have for a long time, too. I can’t remember when. I can’t even remember a time since we’ve met that I don’t look at you like you hung the stars for me.”

“Baby,” Donghyuck pouts when he realizes you’re already crying. He moves so that he’s lying on his side as he grabs your face with both hands, thumbs wiping away the tears. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You giggle.

“Can I kiss you?” Donghyuck asks and you nod too quickly. He wipes the stains of tears from your cheeks and leans closer, closer, closer—

And there. Finally. The most-awaited first kiss.

He presses his lips only softly, a feather-like touch, waits for your reaction, but you keep your eyes closed, and then he’s leaning again, pressing his lips firmly this time.

He kisses you gently—carefully, like a curator carrying a piece of art that’s been around for ages, and you kiss him back like you mean it.

The kiss is over not long after, and Donghyuck brings you back close to his chest, hugging you and telling you to sleep.

You hum. Donghyuck closes his eyes.

The room is covered in silence. Donghyuck feels like he’s dreaming, and slowly, he lets himself fall asleep. The last thing he hears before drifting of is: “for the record, I’ve always known, Donghyuck. I’ve always known, because the things you can’t say, your eyes tell.”

[twopoppies]

hello. I hope you're doing well.

I ask this genuinely, cause I'm curious <and newly on lou/ larrytwt>. We keep saying larries huge. We back them etc especially on twt. I come from Fandoms where we show support by having streaming days/parties -in a fun way, or introduce artist to local days. Request radios . Stuff that promotes the Artists work ? Over what company may /may not do. Try to chart it where we can. I don't see as much of this here. It's more of a is his shirt a clue? Or debates on if he sabotaged Or analysis of microexpressions. Which does make me wonder why. At least do both? If we are such a big group, shouldn't we push harder in his music than this? So he can see support? We could've tried charting his larry call a load cover or trended it. Instead of trending the AIMH twt. Which felt incredibly intrusive and strange to me.

Sorry if this sounds rude . I'm just confused I guess.

Back in the day when they were a band, and even up to when Harry and Niall dropped their first albums, we were that fandom. We got songs played on the radio that weren’t singles, we charted songs, we won every fan voted award, we coordinated give away of albums to people who couldn’t afford them, we raised thousands and thousands of dollars for charities… And we were absolutely the fly in the ointment to 1DHQ (and then HSHQ).

And that’s why they drove us apart. The fandom now is too fucking fractured to do anything but bicker. Twitter is a mess for a lot of reasons, but one of them is all the “larries” there that only try to find “proofs” and “evidence” and end up making all of us look insane.

Louis’ fans got FITF to number one. But I don’t know if it would happen again. In the old days everyone voted and we were a pretty cohesive group. Sadly, those days are over. There are still fun aspects of being here, but it’s changed.

[html-nae]

T R A P S O U L

42!Miles x fem!OC

Beginning of the 42!Miles x fem!OC series

WC: 1055

Sometimes she wished he knew. But she tried so hard to disguise the truth, he walked around with a bright smile that lit up the room so she acted like she was happy. She sat there day after day, thinking.

Wondering.

If his mind played this game too. Thinking about him and her. Miles and Harmony. Together. Not Miles and Gwen.

The girl that was the complete opposite of Harmony.

Short blonde hair with one side shaved instead of long dark brown goddess braids.

Bright blue eyes instead of honey brown eyes.

Pale skin instead of deep brown skin.

A spider person instead of a normal student in Brooklyn.

In a completely different dimension instead of dimension 1610.

Even though they were completely different. They both shared one same factor. They were both crushing on the hopeless dork that manages to be late to everything and charm his way out of trouble. The same lanky kid that swings around the cities in New York and save countless lives. The same kid that buries his head in one of his many sketchbooks and fills the pages with the same thing.

Gwen Stacy.

Harmony decided to pretend that her feelings didn’t exist to save her the heartbreak and embarrassment of crushing on her best friend. At least until it all made sense.

Yeah. That’ll work.

“Harmony?” Miles called out, waving his hand in front of her face to bring her back to reality. “You listening?”

Harmony shot him a small smile and nodded as he continued on with his rant about how the new ‘villain of the week’ he encountered earlier that day and soon derailing into what Gwen would do.

Seeing him face to face and realizing how different everything had changed made her think about the days they used to be. When they would sit on this same roof top and watch the sunset. Like they are now. Except it was full of laughter and it wasn’t a one sided conversation. It wasn’t about the ‘villain of the week’ or ‘the one that got away’. It was always about art and the new album that came out earlier in the week or debates about which pizza place was the best or what Jordans would look better with whatever outfit they could put together. That was before everything changed.

Before Miles became the friendly neighborhood hero. Before his Uncle Aaron died. Before the multiverse was at stake. Before Miles fell for Gwen.

Don’t make a scene. Don’t make a scene.

Harmony thought while holding in an annoyed breath.

“Harmony? What’s wrong?” Miles asked. He looked concerned. It made her a little happy.

At least he still cares.

“Nothing Morales. Worry about your own.” She said, pushing his shoulder and laughing.

I’m trying not to make it seem like I want you. Even if it’s true.

“If you say so Harmony.” He said with a smile, turning back to look off into the city.

Harmony. Not Ny Ny or Ny or any of the stupid nicknames he came up with when they were younger. Just Harmony. Boring and plain Harmony.

She watched the sun sit on his skin, it made her feel warm and fuzzy. She remembered when they used to have sleepovers at his house. Smushed on his twin sized bed, reading comic books together all night not realizing until the sun came up. But that didn’t matter, because they were happy. Comfortable.

Harmony Jones wanted to stay in the world they created. The world that they filled with Uncle Aaron’s music, Mama Rio’s cooking, Papa Davis’ jokes, and Miles’ art. But that world was gone now. She believed that nothing and nobody would break the bond they had. She believed that she couldn’t find anyone that would get her like Miles so she never went out looking for anything. Never had a boyfriend. Or any situations like it. All she needed was Miles.

Sure, Harmony had other friends. But at the end of the day the only one she knew she could fall back on was Miles Morales. The boy from down the street that would put bandaids on her scraped knees when she would fall playing basketball. The boy that would write letters to her in class when she was having a bad day. The boy that would always give her his full attention when she wanted or needed it.

“Harmony. What are you thinking about?” Miles stopped talking a while ago when he realized his friend wasn’t listening to him like she said she was. Harmony was always lost in thought and he had to give it to her. She had him beat.

“Nothing.” She responded.

“Harmony. I need you to be honest with me. You’re always switching up. Well, not switching up, but you’re lost in thought a lot and that isn’t like you. I’m worried about you.”

He looked concerned. He really did. He was worried about his friend.

“It’s nothing Miles. Swear. I’m just worried about this exam coming up.”

Lies.

He believed it though.

And she believed that they would be good. Except she had to accept the fact that they’ve been done. Long before anything begun. They weren’t together, they never were and they probably never will be.

Harmony Jones lets him lead her on. The times he came crawling through her window, battered and bruised pleading for help so he doesn’t have to explain to his parents why he looks the way he does. It ends with him falling asleep in her bed. An arm around her waist and his head buried in her neck. Along with him gone before the morning comes.

It was a continuous thing. She was used to it. Did she want to get used to it? No, but it was as close as she was going to get to anything with Miles. He leaned on her and she leaned on him. Even if that meant having to listen to him gush about some girl that was only here for three days then gone for the next year and a half without a single word.

Even if it meant having to be there and have her heart torn in two while she watched Miles fall for someone that wasn’t her.

All because she disguised the truth and let her mind play this game.

taglist:

@urmotherswhor3

[awryval]

death of an author, reclamation, and you

"We never are what we intend, or invent 'Cause I make little lies and then I pull them apart Think something dark's living down in my heart And if I wanted to die before I got old I should've started some years ago digging that hole"

Brand New. "At the Bottom." Daisy, 2009.

Brand New was among one of my favorite bands in high school, and I still listen to them today. Their music is important to me and shaped a big part of who I am. Their lyrics about being tortured, burnt-out, and choking on the weight of your own self-perceived flaws are relatable! Their compositions ooze with a level of self-hatred that can only be genuine. It's utterly depressing, and I adore it!

That's not not the full story, though. Jesse Lacey, the vocalist of Brand New, is a sexual predator. This informs everything about how the music of Brand New is. It's self-loathing for a very good reason. I love Brand New. I condemn Jesse Lacey. These two statements coexist. I used to be a part of the /r/brandnew subreddit, and when the allegations against Jesse Lacey came out in 2017, many redditors of that sub were quick to claim "death of the author." After all, the band had broken up immediately after the news broke, and they had also cancelled their tours. Currently, the people using that subreddit mostly talk about buying old BN merchandise and discuss what their favorite concert memories were. Jesse Lacey himself confirmed that the allegations against him were true, so there isn't much debate to be had. The subreddit serves as a monument for fans who still enjoy the music, and as a platform to speak about it with like-minded fans.

In my opinion, claiming "death of an author" is a slippery slope. We can't always claim that Miku is the creator of Minecraft. But often, we see that that is the response people have when a creator is outed to be problematic; "I still like the thing So-and-So made, so I will ignore that the creator exists!" The reason that this worked for Miku Minecraft is because, by the time that Notch was publicly making transphobic comments, he did not own Minecraft anymore. The joke is quite literally that he does not own the thing that people like. He sold it to Microsoft, so he doesn't get royalties from it anymore. You can play Minecraft devoid of supporting its original creator. This joke works so well because it is an actual case of the death of an author! That's great and all for Minecraft, but what about other instances? What happens when we claim "death of the creator" erroneously? And why are we so obsessed with this concept anyway?

So like, back to Brand New... they released their last album, Science Fiction, back in August 2017. The allegations came out later that same year. I own all of Brand New's discography physically, including their last release. I bought most of it off eBay when I was 15. I was not supporting them post-allegations. But that leaves me with a lingering question- what do I do with all these CDs that I still very much enjoy the music of? From how I see it, there are two firm camps on this topic:

Camp 1: You know about Lacey's crimes now and his music cannot be separated from his actions. Solution: Throw your CDs away.

Camp 2: It's something you bought without knowledge of Lacey's crimes, so you should enjoy it anyway. Death of an author! Solution: Continue as usual.

I'm not fond of either of these answers. They come off as too polarized for a situation that is the entire Pantone swatch library of grays. "But, how are there any shades of gray when its clear that Jesse Lacey is in the wrong?" I want to provide some counter questions for you to think about:

What about the other people in the band? You might not be directly supporting the sexual predator anymore, but there are other victims here too- effectively his band mates lost their jobs overnight. (Another example would be LOSTPROPHETS)

Is it feasible to destroy each object you own because it was created under problematic circumstances? When or when isn't this the case? Does it apply to your cup of coffee? Does it apply to the clothes you wear? What about any product with palm oil in it? What about the hardware in your computer? If you look into any company, you're going to find some horrific things you don't like about it. The takeaway here is that it isn't beneficial to treat situations like these as black or white. I don't think that destroying my CDs is going to do anything to take away the abuse that Jesse Lacey caused. Nor do I think ignoring the context of his music will do anyone any favors. The music he made is a product of his crimes. To ignore that fact would be disingenuous to why people enjoy his music and why the music exists in the first place. There's another element here, though. I, and many others, are no longer monetarily supporting Jesse Lacey. You can't even officially support the release of Brand New's music anymore as their record label (Procrastinate! Music Traitors) doesn't even seem to have a functioning website anymore? Regardless, I wouldn't want to support his music in a way that supports him, anyway. Yes, I enjoy the music and the themes of it, but I do not want to be directly supporting abuse that happened BECAUSE he was a vocalist in a band. And I can safely do this with CDs that I bought secondhand, right? This is death of the author. So what's the issue?

I believe there is an issue when people claim “death of the author” far too quickly and scramble to reclaim the media for themselves. It’s an increasingly popular trend these days to pluck characters/concepts from an author deemed to be problematic. "I'll save [Character I like] from this shitty piece of media!", they claim. I don't think people realize how multifaceted in effect that is, though. For instance, if the author is actively making money from their creation, you can't truly "reclaim" a character from them. It's more like you're paying homage to them with fanart.

My best on-going example of this would be Floraverse. There are a multitude of reasons why people do not like the author/s of Floraverse, which I will not go into here. To put it simply, though, since its inception in 2013, many artists and writers involved with Flora either left or were kicked out. These artists either directly contributed to the art and worldbuilding of the webcomic, or were heavily influenced by it. To this day, there are many times someone links me to art on Discord and I’ll say “oh I remember that person, they used to be a Flora fanartist!” and the other person is absolutely floored that that artist was ever linked to Floraverse. Anyway… There have been multiple attempts at people trying to reclaim Floraverse from the author, and this never works out. Like, it really doesn’t work out. Any time that someone tries to reclaim Floraverse characters for themselves whilst condemning the author, that person is dogpiled by the Floraverse community. Which is a weird behavior for a CC BY-SA webcomic, but I digress. Here are some highlights:

In 2019, there was a thread dedicated to Redesigning Floraverse that immediately got taken over by Floraverse itself a month later.

An artist got harassed for multiple years (I think it was 2020-2023) for having an oc based on Beleth, a character in Floraverse.

Just 2 months ago, an artist got harassed for drawing fanart of the characters

Historically, reclaiming Floraverse characters from the author hasn't worked out. And I mean.. why would it? It's an actively running "webcomic" (I'll be charitable) and with an active community that supports the author's current works and views with their wallets. It's one thing to enjoy a piece of media with a problematic author and want to reclaim that media for yourself. It is another for this reclamation to actually be effective. Attempts of "reclaiming" Floraverse get written off as fanworks that the community dislikes. You cannot reclaim Floraverse characters as they do not exist in a vacuum. Listening to secondhand Brand New CDs does work in a vacuum; Jesse Lacey's career is dead in the water. The same cannot be said for reclaiming the art of Glitchedpuppet and co. Floraverse characters and stories are not divorced from the abuses they cause. Characters will be used as strawmen to abuse community members, past or present. Or entire works will be up dedicated to making light of your childhood trauma! These characters were made by an abuser, and will be used to abuse. That is a simple fact about Floraverse. Except... in that statement, I'm not even talking about Glitchedpuppet, the current author of Floraverse. I'm talking about Marlcabinet, the previous author of Floraverse. This statement does however, apply to both of them. Hey, wait a minute, that's weird! I've been talking about "death of the author" for this entire post, and I just said that reclaiming Floraverse characters can't work because the way the characters were used to abuse real people doesn't exist in a vacuum. So like, why does this work within the Floraverse webcomic itself? Marl is the abuser of Glip, but Marl is also the author of the majority of early Floraverse. Isn't the story itself, as it currently stands, an act of reclaiming characters used to abuse community members, minors, and any detractors? Then who is to say that those who contributed to Floraverse and were similarly abused are not also allowed this same privilege? Their real-world suffering is what fuels the comic. When I was 13-16, I adored a Floraverse character named Cayenne. His whole deal was that he was an autistic child slave and was horribly abused by everyone around him. Weird character to connect to, but he’s the character that made me figure out I had autism! I drew a LOT of fanart of this character and I even own a (gifted) life-size plush of him. The authors only ever treated him as a joke and it was a joke even within the Floraverse community that I was the only person who actually liked/cared about him. Sometimes I think about reclaiming him for myself. But I also don’t want to get harassed, and I know I could design much better things, and write better things. Conversely, I also think about how this is the exact character that made me get into contact with Marl when I was 16. It’s a heavy weight to carry knowing that this exact character was the reason I was almost in the clutches of a child predator. Glip personally deferred me to him. Reclaiming Cayenne would hold emotional value for me as a reminder of my triumph over a predator. Would it be wrong for me to reclaim an abused child character from a comic that abused me and many others as children? I've no clue. And I don't think anyone can answer that. I've waffled on it for ~2 years now. Reclaiming Cayenne would give attention to an individual that profits off abusing others, myself included. I'd say that reclaiming Floraverse characters wouldn't be a case of "death of the author", but the original creator of them was a child predator that's no longer on the internet. Floraverse is already practicing death of an author, and it is a shell of its former self. That being said, it is not a story that only has one author. Its other authors are still active, and these authors include every person that it has abused in its wake. After all, it's a comic that relies on you to know about its dramas with and traumas of real people. Tell me: Does a death of the author matter when its being written about you?

[holylulusworld]

Papillon (1) - The lion's den

Summary: Your secret is out and there is no way out...

Pairing: Mobster!Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, roughness, unwanted kissing, threats, dubcon, pre-smut, tension, betrayal, mafia au, darkish!Clark Kent

&lt;< Prologue

Papillon Masterlist

“This is insanity,” you try to outstep Clark, but he roughly grabs your arms. He shakes you, laughing like one of the villains in a bad movie. “Let go of me. I’m not some bitch you found at a bar. I’m a federal agent!”

“You are what I allow you to be, Papillon. Tonight, I want you to be my whore. Tomorrow, I haven’t decided yet,” he snarls. “So, what will it be? Will you go down on your knees and beg me for forgiveness or call your boss?”

You purse your lips and raise your chin. Clark Kent is scary as shit, but you won’t cower in front of him. Your boss and colleagues will have your back. You’re sure about it.

“I’ll call my boss,” you grit out as his hold on your arms tightens.

Fuck, he’s so strong and tall, and the glimmer in his eyes tells you to not make another mistake.

“How about I call him? He will confirm that you are mine to play with.”

You look up at Clark with angry eyes, but your pulse quickens. He looks so confident and sure about what he says. “Go ahead.”

“Aw, you still believe someone will come for your aid,” he taunts you. “Watch me, papillon. Soon, you will know that only I care for your well-being from now on.”

He cups your face with both hands, making you feel even smaller. “I don’t think so.”

“You’ll change your mind,” he roughly claims your lips, tongue forcing its way inside your mouth. You weakly push against his chest, while debating to bite his tongue. “Let me call him, and after, you will go down on your knees.”

He steps away, leaving you breathless and scared as he walks toward his desk. You want to tell him to shove his arrogance up to his ass, but you are not suicidal.

Clark sits on his comfortable swivel chair, smirking darkly as he dials your boss’s number. He leans back, watching you wring your hands.

Your eyes drift toward the door, and you wonder if you can make it out of the room and house before a bullet ends your life.

“Perry, how are you,” Clark’s grin widens. He imitates a Cheshire grin, making you squirm. “I got your little agent here. I caught her in my web, and I’d like to keep her for fun.”

You swallow thickly when Clark puts your boss on loudspeaker.

“She’s all yours, Mr. Kent. I always keep my word. I just don’t know why you wanted me to send her.”

“I have my reasons.” You feel like a fool listening to your boss and Clark talks about your fate as if your life doesn’t mean a thing to them. “She’s going to be so good for me.”

“If you are happy, I’m happy,” Perry, the man you considered a second father, replies. He laughs and tells Clark to have fun.

“One more thing,” Clark sizes you up. He crooks his finger, gesturing to you to step closer. “Burn her place down. Make it look like she died in the fire.”

“Consider it done.”

“No…please…my cat,” you jump into motion, almost pouncing on Clark. “All my memories…my picture album. It’s all I have left of my family. Please.” You kneel in front of Clark, hands running over his long legs. “Please…”

“Hmmm…” He dips his head to watch you cry. “So pretty when you cry.” Clark leans forward to cup your face with one large hand. He wipes away a tear, humming when you close your eyes. “Why should I shelter your place? What will I get in return?”

“What do you want?” You try to sound strong and confident, but your hope just died. Clark was right. Your boss offered you to the monster in front of you on a silver plate.

“You know what I want, papillon,” his features darken when your eyes drop toward his crotch. “You are already on your knees, so…”

“I’ll do it.” You try to forget about the situation you are in, and that you hate the man in front of you. If you can pretend you like going down on him, he will believe you caved in. You can use his demands to your advantage.

“Perry, I changed my mind. I will send someone to grab a few things. I’ll call you later, and you can burn the place down.”

No…no. You had hoped he wouldn’t go that far. Giving in to keep Clark from burning down your place was your last hope. If everyone believes you are dead, no one will come to your rescue.

“I’ll be waiting for your call then, boss,” Clark ends the call and tosses the phone somewhere on the desk.

“Now, you owe me much more than going down on your knees, papillon. I hope that mouth is worth all the trouble.”

“I always wondered what you are hiding underneath,” Clark watches you strip down to your underwear with hungry eyes. He dips his head, and hums. “My men got your cat, the picture album, and personal stuff. We left all of your papers; you won’t need them anymore. You’re mine now.”

You blend the man out, and his threats too. If you must do this to survive the night, you will try to do it your way.

“Thank you, Sir,” you purr as you drop to your knees to crawl toward Clark. “I bet you are tall everywhere. I cannot wait to get my hands on your cock.”

He looks surprised, but groans, nonetheless. “Come here and get what you deserve. You’ll love tasting me.”

Clark is a dangerous opponent, deadly even. But he’s just a man. After he gets off, he will forget about you, and turn his attention toward business. If you play your cards right, you can slip out of the house and look for help.

He squirms in his seat when you run your hands up his long legs again. You take your time, nuzzling his legs, purring, and moaning as you rub yourself on one of his shoes.

"You make me so wet," the lie easily rolls off your tongue. You inch closer, spreading his legs to kneel between them.

“Fuck,” he curses loudly, barely able to hold back. He may have tricked you and had you on your knees, but you studied all of his weaknesses and kinks. You will be damned if you don’t use your knowledge against him. “You’re such a good slut.”

“I know,” You hate yourself for enjoying having the power over this powerful man. He watches you bury your face in his clothed crotch and nuzzle him while you plan to get him arrested.

He pants heavily, and his eyes are dilated when you look up at him from between his legs. Clark runs his hands over his thighs, fingers digging into his muscles. “Go ahead, pretty papillon.”

Men are so predictable. Doctor, garbage man, or mafia boss. The weakness between their legs will always be their downfall.

You will be waiting for your chance to bring him down. Even if you have to do it on your own…

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[lvcky0ne]

Royal Flush is the 2nd full studio album by Lucky under Prismatic Entertainment. It was released on Oct 7, 2024, the group's 10th anniversary. The album features 10 tracks, including 4 solo songs, one for each member, BOOM! as the title track, and Stellar as a promoted b-side. It is available both physically and digitally.

Lucky promoted the album for a total of 6 weeks. BOOM! peaked at 6 on the Circle Chart and won 3 music show awards. Stellar exploded in popularity, rising to 1 on the Circle Chart and peaking at 12 on the Billboard Hot 200. Stellar won the group 6 music show awards.

｡:°ஐ i. the tracklist !

✧ . Take Off produced by HWI and Hiro

✧ . BOOM! ( title track ) produced by Angel, Hiro, and HWI

✧ . Stellar ( promoted b-side ) produced by Hiro, Han, and ROZE

✧ . Eat Ur Man ( sunnie solo ) produced by Sunnie and HWI

✧ . Lemonade ( angel solo ) produced by Angel

✧ . JAM ( hiro solo ) produced by Hiro and KOHH

✧ . Hot Hot ( han solo ) produced by Han

✧ . SourSweet produced by Kaori and Sunnie

✧ . Check Yourself produced by HWI and Angel

✧ . Atmosphere produced by Hiro and Sunnie

find Kaori at @sug4rsweet !!

｡:°ஐ ii. the styling !!

✧ . this era was heavily accentuated with lots of leather and chrome, blunt angles, and lots of layering and belts

✧ . lucky's stylist was quoted saying her biggest inspiration were pieces that would be found in a futuristic alien casino

✧ . hiro rocked a mid-length shaggy silver cut, han with grown out black locks, angel had an undercut bleach job, and sunnie kept her classic long black hair with blunt bangs

｡:°ஐ iii. the reception !!

｡:°ஐ iv. the highlights !!

✧ . as described by thousands of 4luvs online this era served many things, but most importantly: cunt

✧ . a perfect transition from brat summer, playing on a heavy edm sound that is rather new to the group

✧ . when asked about the more experimental songs on the album, sunnie said that with the creative control they're given, the group is always looking for ways to challenge themselves and push the bounds of typical kpop

✧ . lucky has always been known for pushing boundaries in the industry, and their second full album is no exception

✧ . while each member was dressed in relatively racy outfits, especially for BOOM! stages, one of hiro's Stellar outfits took the internet by storm, wearing a tight cut-out top that revealed some under-boob

✧ . it was a source of many arguments online in both 4luv and non-fan spaces, debating whether it was appropriate or even safe to be wearing while dancing on stage

✧ . hiro later posted a selfie in the top from a low angle on her instagram story writing "holding it down," some taking it as a taunt while many fans argue that she was simply assuring that the top was more secure than it seemed

✧ . in between music show appearances, members of the group would make appearances at clubs around seoul for mini performances including hiro and sunnie doing their own dj sets

✧ . these appearances sparked rumors that one or more members would be doing a set at nyc's infamous boiler room, but nothing ever came of it... yet !

✧ . these performances were never advertised, leading fans to do some serious digging and speculating on what clubs to visit on what weekends

✧ . it seems lucky has fully embraced their party reputation with this album, not unexpected by fans but still widely scrutinized by knetz

✧ . even han had something to say about it on live which surprised many 4luvs as he was usually the least outspoken member, saying "we're all adults. we have been for most of our career and we're not scared to shy away from it. we never have. i don't know why it's such a problem all of a sudden."

✧ . Stellar got much more popular than anticipated as a promoted b-side rather than a title track

✧ . the song was only supposed to promote for 2 weeks after BOOM!'s 3 week promotional period, but another week was added after its rise in popularity

✧ . hiro told W Korea that she thought Stellar should have been the title track, but she was outvoted by the production team and that a new remix of the song is in the works

✧ . when asked what songs on the album were their favorites, sunnie chose SourSweet, angel chose JAM, hiro chose Take Off, and han chose Stellar

✧ . kaori went live to give bonbons a sneak peak of her newest album when she was asked about working on SourSweet saying "it was great getting to produce a song for lucky and work with them a bit! i haven’t done much producing since touring and working on a new album back to back, so it was great to get back to it, especially with them! the song is amazing, i promise."

✧ . when asked what Lemonade is about in a q&a on his instagram story, angel answered in video form saying "so, basically, i'm telling the haters they can suck on this--" the video cut off before he could finish the sentence

✧ . overall, Royal Flush has taken its place among the competitors for lucky's most iconic era !

[dms-a-jem]

Depeche Mode - Interview with Alan and Martin

International Musician and Recording World - Nov. 1984

Leaving their beginnings as wide-eyed Popsters behind them, Depeche Mode have become masters of the art of noise and the science of the studio. Adrian Deevoy had a rewarding chat with the Basildon-to-Berlin boys, Les Drennan took some great pictures.

Somewhere, off one of the corporate corridors in the labyrinthine complex we affectionately term Broadcasting House, a woman sits alone. Her job is to create emotion, tension and atmosphere. Her key to this process is a PPG system. Although this is heartbreakingly unromantic it is the ultimate argument for machines in the Machine vs Human debate. It’s also quite a nice little story.

Depeche Mode like this story.

“All the sounds for Life Of Earth,” declares Alan Wilder.

“All those little animals,” beams Martin Gore.

After four years Depeche Mode are pretty bogged off with being told that they make inhuman music. They quite rightly believe this accusation to be untrue. They might accept that their first two albums weren’t cataclysmic – catchy, melody blip-bops if you like your lager warm but nothing to telex home about – but they remain adamant that last year’s LP, Construction Time Again, this years singles People Are People and Master And Servant, and their latest album Some Great Reward are anything less than stirring. For in the last 18 months Depeche Mode have discovered, embraced and subsequently immersed themselves in sound. With the aid of producer Daniel Miller’s matchmaking Synclavier a strange love affair has developed between the band and sampled noise.

Alan Wilder and Martin Gore, the songwriters, seemed most smitten to a meeting between themselves, and a micro-Walkman was promptly arranged in a horrendously loud video wine bar where they both bawled unashamedly of their love for sound.

“I’ll take you through all the sounds on People Are People,” says Martin, eyes glazed, sparing the machine no blushes. “The bass drum at the beginning was just an acoustic bass drum sampled into a Synclavier then we added a piece of metal to that – just a sampled anvil type sound – to give it a slight click and make it sound a bit different. That’s the beauty of the Synclavier, you can edit sounds together to make what we call combination sounds. The main synth sound is the actual ‘synth’ sound on the Synclavier, that’s the one that plays the bass riff. But the bass sound is a combination sound too with part of it being an acoustic guitar plucked with a coin, which sounds very interesting when the two sounds are sequenced together.”

“There’s very little playing going on in People,” adds Alan, “virtually everything is sampled into the Synclavier. With the guitar sounds we altered them slightly once they were in the Synclavier because you sample in one note and then you can alter the length and dynamic of every note in the sequence for the guitar part so it will give expression, but it will still be completely in time. You can justify all the rhythms, you see, so that you can have articulation but it’s all in time.”

Getting back to the People Are People breakdown Martin unveils a short sampling anecdote: Love on a plane.

“I took a stereo Walkman when I was going on a plane from England to somewhere,” he begins. “I originally brought it along to take the takeoff but while the air hostess was doing her safety speech at the start of the flight I decided I’d tape that as well. But as she was telling everyone to ‘Check the instruction cards under your seat,’ the door flew open and all this air rushed in which made a real loud noise and everyone laughed. Anyway I looped the end of what she was saying and the laughter so it goes, ‘…tion cards ha ha ha ha …tion cards ha ha ha ha,’ which sounds funny but I used it in conjunction with a choir sound and it added a really nice texture to the bridge on People.”

“There’s a Synclavier harp sound in the verses,” contributes Alan, “and an ARP sequencer playing very fast in the chorus and there’s some Emulator sounds that we used for adding a few frills here and there.”

The three throaty clunks at the end of each chorus is in fact Martin’s throat.

“That was a combination sound,” says Alan. “First of all we sampled Martin going, ‘Unk Unk Unk,’ with his throat then we added a bell sound and a timpani to give it depth.”

“I felt a bit of a berk doing that,” admits Martin. But love’s a bit like that.

The vocal line, “It’s a lot… like life,” at the beginning of Master and Servant was yet more fodder for the Synclavier. As Alan explains.

“Firstly we got a lot of people singing the high, ‘It’s a lot,’ and then a low, ‘Like life.’ You don’t have to play one slower or faster than the other to get the octave either because you make a patch on the Synclavier keyboard for each part and then you play the parts in their natural pitches and both at the same speed which is very handy.”

The lead vocals on People Are People and Master and Servant (or M&S as us Depechies call it) on the 7” mixes at least, were pretty well the only sounds that weren’t sampled.

“The vocals,” explains Alan, “were recorded in a big room. That is the vocals were sent down through a PA into a big, live room so we could not only get a great big sound but so we could put effects on the vocal while it was being recorded and afterwards on the disk.

“Although we sample all the snare sounds,” he adds as an afterthought on live rooms, “we always record the initial sound in an ambient space. We like to vary the snare sounds a lot so we record all different acoustic snares in various rooms and we close mike them or mike them from a distance depending on the width of the sound that we require. Simmons pads? No, I don’t like them. After you’ve done all that fiddling around to get away from that factory preset sound you might as well have got a really good sound on the Synclavier. Simmons pads just remind me too much of that Howard Jones factory preset and Drumulator syndrome. Really boring ‘synth’ sounds. They’re just not interesting, they sort of scream ‘DX7!’ and ‘JP8!’ at you.”

The latest Depeche album boasts a myriad of sounds, less overtly metallic than the socialist sentiments that they reflected on Construction Time Again but just as fascinating. Love is all about contrasts.

“We don’t think that we overdid the metal-beating idea on Construction Time,” says Martin, “but we wanted to make this one less obviously metal sounds. We wanted a little more subtlety…”

So instead of belting skips they belted concrete.

“Yeah, on one of the tracks on the album, Blasphemous Rumours,” elaborates Alan, “we sampled some concrete being hit for what turned out to be the snare sound. All that entailed was us hitting a big lump of concrete with a sampling hammer…”

“…I’m sure they’re not actually called sampling hammers,” interjects Martin giggling.

“Anyway,” continues Alan, “the engineer / producer we use, Gareth Jones, has got this brilliant little recorder called a Stellavox which we use with two stereo mikes and it’s as good as any standard 30ips reel-to-real but this is very small and therefore very portable. So we just took the Stellavox out into the middle of this big, ambient space and miked up the ground and hit it with a big metal hammer. The sound was… like concrete being hit. I can’t really put it any other way.”

“Professional Walkmans are good for sampling too,” claims Martin. “Gareth has always got his out. On trains… at home. They’re good because they get a very impure sound that can often be really interesting. But if we want a very pure sound then we’ll take the thing, say a bit of scaffolding, into the studio and mike it up in the proper conditions and get a clean sound.”

If an equipment list had been included in the mentions on Some Great Reward, apart from pavements, buildings, bottles and old people being stapled together it would have incorporated a long list of toy instruments which Martin divulged as he became more intoxicated; by love of course.

“One morning me and Andy (Fletcher) went down to Hamleys, the toy shop in London, and bought as many toy instruments as we could find. Pianos, saxophones, xylophones and we took them all back to the studio and sampled them. One we used a lot was a Marina (?), a toy one, very strange, but after we’d sampled it, it was great. It sounded pretty terrible as a toy but when we took it down a couple of octaves it sounded really good.”

“People tend to think that if you’re using toy instruments then they have to sound whacky,” complains Alan, “but we put some to very good use because as soon as you sample them they take on a whole new quality and when you transpose them it puts them in a completely new context. Like the noises Martin was making with his throat, we only took those down a tone and it was unrecognisable as someone going, ‘Unk’, with their throat.”

But sampling, like love, isn’t all happiness and although Depeche have learnt to take the rough with the smooth, they found out the hard way. Alan breaks off in the middle of another ‘good combination sound’ story to tell how they were stitched up by a sussed, sampling percussionist.

“We were doing this combination with Martin doing his Indian voice combined with a bassoon type sound.”

“It was pretty ethnic,” says Martin launching into his Indian voice.

Alan ignores him. He has something on his mind that he’s not sure if he should tell us.

“I’m not sure I should tell you this,” he tells us, “but we got this percussionist in for the afternoon to sample his drums and the different techniques of playing them. We didn’t try to hide the fact that we were sampling him. We said, ‘We hope you don’t feel r*ped,’ and he agreed to be sampled literally just hitting one drum, once at a time. Anyway we sampled all his drums once, maybe twice. Now, the Musicians Union haven’t really caught up with sampling and this bloke had obviously contacted them when he got home because he gave us this bill for about 50 different sessions, plus sampling time plus a consultation fee. It was enormous and the stupid thing was that most of the sounds weren’t even as good as that (bangs two pint glasses together) and we only used about two for maybe two seconds each on a couple of songs.”

Another problem came when the band had to divide their recording time between Music Works in England and the 56-track, Solid State luxury of Hansa Mischraum in Berlin.

“There were all these builders in next door at Music Works,” moans Martin, “and we’d have the track running with us hitting skips and concrete and they’d be next door tearing a wall down and we couldn’t tell which was which. It was very confusing at times.”

Like love and marriage, sampling and timing tend to go together like the proverbial horse and jockey.

“Although it makes the whole process even longer, when you get into one you can’t really help but get into the other,” says Alan. “You can’t help, after you’ve been involved with sequencing for a while, noticing three millisecond or five millisecond discrepancies. So you end up time-shifting every sequence until it’s perfect. Then we got into consciously putting things slightly out of time. Like, for example, the choir sound on People again we used a combination sound of different choir sounds on different synths and then put them slightly out of time with each other. Like we took one sound from the Synclavier, one from the PPG and one was on the Emulator. Are you familiar with the Friendchip? It’s a time code reading clock that can monitor every single click output from all your drum machines and all your synths so when everything is going via the Friendchip you can adjust the feel by pulling something, say five or six milliseconds in one direction.

“The thing is so many things can’t play in perfect time anyway,” reveals Alan, “the Linn isn’t in time when it’s meant to be playing ‘drum machine’ perfect time without human error programmed in. It can go out by 20 milliseconds. We set an oscilloscope on several things to see how well they kept time. The one that came out best was the TR808 which only as a two millisecond shift. That’s better than the Synclavier. Rotten sounds though. But we actually ended up triggering stuff from the 808 just because it’s so tight within itself.”

“We always thought the 808 had a good feel,” chips in Martin before adding a bitchy, “even though Alan has a grade eight piano his playing is still incredibly out of time compared to the Synclavier sequencer… and even that’s out!”

All this and the Emulator II?

“Yeah,” admits Martin realising that his love has almost turned him into a technocrat, “the sampling time is about 17 seconds now, I think, and you can get more sampling across the keyboard, it gives better quality than the Fairlight and it only costs about seven grand which is a lot but it will be a big help to us live.”

And there’s a pianillow ballad, Somebody, to be sung love. Martin promises some. Kinda wonderful.

“We’re going to go for a completely human feel on that one. Just a piano played by Alan and Dave singing and Andy playing tapes on the Fostex X15. It’ll be very different.”

So the love for sound can take you backwards but what of the future?

“I don’t know,” confesses Martin, “the Synclavier can already go further than your imagination and they’re thinking of getting new software for that. Then there’s re-synthesis which might happen in a couple of years where you can take a sampled sound and change just tiny parts of it. It’s really impossible to say. Maybe we’ll just get the guitars out and make a Rock ’n’ Roll album. Who knows?”

…and somewhere, within the folds of Auntie Beeb’s ageing skin, a woman sits alone wrestling with a similar emotional predicament. Is she really in love with her PPG system is has it been David Attenborough all along?

Adrian Deevoy, November 1984 (some of the text is hard to read so transcribed to the best of my ability. Apologies for any typos)