#while the hallucinations of his mind play out on stage

[blueboyluca]

I had an amazing idea recently and just want to share it with the theatre kids of the world: 127 hours the musical

[krosiefics]

i wanna see you naked • yang jeongin

M D N I 18+

Synopsis: You and Jeongin decide to play two truths and a lie, taking shots of soju as a punishment. Who knew that with all the drinking Jeongin would confess his fantasies about you.

WC: 2k

Tags/Warnings: afab!reader, softdom!jeongin, bsf!jeongin, pure smut, pwp, intoxicated sex FULLY CONSENSUAL, piv, unprotected sex (DON’T DO THAT…also pee after sex guys), creampie, breeding kink(?), grinding, cunnilingus (clothed cunnilingus), fingering, hair pulling, doggystyle, light spanking, not proof read

a/n: YES THIS IS INSPIRED BY HIS SOLO STAGE BECAUSE WTF WAS THAT…Baby Bread nuh uh more like Daddy Toast…sorry-look I know Jeongin’s saying “call you my hallucination” (????) I think…it’s something hallucinations- but let’s all admit we ALL heard ‘I wanna see you naked’

“Ugh, I’m so bored!” You groaned, tossing your head back. You sat on the floor in front of the sofa while your best friend played and braided your hair behind you. “Hey, isn’t me doing your hair fun?” The black hair boy with a bleached spot commented. You turned your head, shooting him a playful glare. “You’re the one braiding it.”

“Fine, fine. What if we play a game?” Jeongin hummed, a piece of your hair unbraiding itself when his fingers loosened. “Ooh, two truths and a lie!” You say excitedly, giving him the strand of hair that had fallen against the nape of your neck, “I’ll start!”

“You suck at braiding hair. I don’t like your weirdly spotted hair…and,” you begin to ponder a third statement, “and I think your dimples are cute.”

You smile to yourself, a small tug of your hair causes you to scowl, “Hey!”

“I do not suck at braiding hair, I’m just learning!” Jeongin scoffs in a jokingly offended tone.

You turn over your shoulder again, Jeongin’s grasp on your hair seizing yet again. You give him an unamused look, shaking your head.

“What’s the lie Innie?” You prompt him, “I dunno…you’ve never called my simple cute before so that’s weird. And you haven’t really cared about my hair…I’m gonna say it’s the hair one?” Jeongin stated in a questioning manner, shrugging as he attempted to restart the braid- again. You pull your hair away, swiveling your body to face Jeongin.

“Correct, I do like your weirdly spotted hair. What do you want?” Jeongin gave you a confused look, “What do you mean ‘what do I want’?”

“Well you won that round, what do you want?”

“Oh we’re getting penalties?” Jeongin hummed in amusement, his interest peaking in this game, “Go get me one of those mochis you hide, I know you have some.”

You frown at him before getting up from your spot on the floor to retrieve the doughy dessert. A few more rounds of the game went on before the two of you decided to turn it into a drinking game, a shot of soju for every loss. You’ve lost track of how many rounds have gone by, your mind too fuzzy from the alcohol to recall.

“Okay, my turn again!” Jeongin grinned, he wasn’t nearly as drunk as you, having given you insane scenarios to choose from and getting almost every round of yours right. “I’ve seen you naked.”

“What?!” Your eyes shoot open, Jeongin’s statement sobering you slightly. “You want to see me naked.”

Your cheeks flush red, cause it’s true- though you’d never admit it. You must be a madman to not think that your best friend is hot, and that fact alone has made you have some thoughts about him.

“And, I wanna see you naked.”

Jeongin’s cheeks had a pink hue, though you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol. “What?” You breathed out shakily, you could feel yourself become aroused, you blamed the soju for that.

“I…I wanna see you naked.” Jeongin repeated himself, his face turning a darker shade of pink now.

You had no clue what possessed you to strip yourself of your loose t-shirt, but you blamed it on the alcohol. Jeongin watched your every move as you rid yourself of the material, his lip caught between his teeth. The sight alone sent arousal straight to his hardening cock, twitching in his pants.

You tossed the shirt somewhere onto the floor nearby, barring your bra covered chest to Jeongin. The black haired boy stared at you, his eyes grazing every bit of your exposed skin. He hesitantly brought his hand up before trailing his index finger along your bra strap.

Jeongin’s fingers trailed along the top trim of the bra, following the curve of your breast. Your breath hitches and he stops, Jeongin gives you a knowing look, you simply shake your head assuring him to go on. “Can I…can I take this off?” He stared up at you with flushed cheeks and a lazy soft gaze.

“Only if you,” You say, you bring your hand up to the hem of his white t-shirt implying your want, “take this off too.” Jeongin happily complies, a wide grin plastered across his face as he lifted and tugged his shirt over his head. “So I guess you do wanna see me naked.” He grins, you let out a playful huff.

Jeongin watches as your chest heaves and your thighs rub together under his eyes. Jeongin shifted closer towards you, “Is this okay?” His breath fanned across your cheek to your ear, you simply nodded in response. Jeongin’s fingers unclasped your bra from the back, the straps falling off your shoulders before the full undergarment was discarded.

The boy in front of you just stared in awe at your body, his eyes ranking up and down each curve of your breasts and waist. Growing timid under his gaze, you cross your arms in front of your body.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asks, his hand reaching to rest gently on your knee.

“No,” You breath out shakily, “I dunno…I know it’s weird but…I want it so bad- fuck I want you so bad.” You ramble, your trembling hands cupping his face. Oh how you wanted to lean in and kiss his pink lips. “Fucking hell.” Jeongin breathed out before connecting your lips together.

His lips were rough against yours, every ounce of lust and desire fueling the kiss. You raised from your spot on the floor, climbing onto Jeongin’s lap, straddling his thighs. Jeongin’s hands are immediately on your body, trailing them along your hips to your waist. His hands trailed slowly towards your ass, but never quite grabbed you.

Out of frustration you took his hands in yours and placed them on your ass, letting him know that it’s okay. Jeongin’s rough hands squeezed the fatty flesh before rubbing the area. You moan into his mouth when you feel his erection poking your clothed cunt.

“Fuck,” You bite your lip, pulling away from the kiss and resting your head against his. “Wanted this for so long, Innie.” You whine as his hands cup your breast, his fingers flicking your hardened buds. “Shit baby, I’ve wanted this too!” Jeongin says, his hips bucking into you.

Your hands fumble to his waistband, trying to desperately free him of the clothing. Jeongin’s lips attached to your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there. Once you tugged at his slacks, he lifted his hips, letting you slide the pants along with his underwear down.

“Fuck, can I?” You say, pulling away from his lips once more as you stared at his erected cock. “Next time babe.” Jeongin said, watching you with amusement as you drooled over his cock. He swiftly flipped you onto your back, his fingers going to the waistband of your loose shorts.

You helped Jeongin slide them down your shorts, as you were gonna reach to pull your underwear down, he stopped you. “Don’t.” Jeongin simply stated, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

He maneuvered himself downwards till he was settled between your legs. Jeongin left kisses along your thighs up towards your heat. As he stared at your panties, he noticed a wet patch of your arousal stained on them, a sense of pride swelled over him knowing that he was the cause of it.

Jeongin suddenly leaned in and licked a stripe up your folds, a gasped moan falling from your lips as he continued lapping up your covered cunt. “Ah, Innie…they’ll be ruined.” You could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your throbbing cunt, “I’ll buy you new ones, yeah?” He said, his hand making its way between your legs, slipping them under your panties and circling around your entrance.

“Ah, fuck Innie.” You moaned out as his finger nudged your panty to the side allowing his younger to finally meet your leaking pussy. Jeongin worked his finger in and out of your hole, stretching you by pushing another in, curling them at the right angle.

“Innie-“ You whined, neediness taking out your body, “Jeongin- stop!” And he did, Jeongin looked at you with round eyes, worried that he did something wrong or that he hurt you. “Are you okay?!” He says, pulling his finger out and wiping it on the couch cushion.

“I’m fine Innie, but if you don’t fuck me right now, so help me God.” Jeongin let out a sigh of relief before a small chuckle escaped his lips, “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He said climbing up to your face and leaving a kiss on your cheek.

You felt your face flush, “I- Jeongin…don’t just say stuff like that I- what?!” The words you formed in your head went numb on your tongue. Jeongin simply bit his lip cockily. “You…ugh.” You groaned, pushing his body off of yours, straddling his hips once again before taking his cock in your hand and dragging it along your wet folds.

“Oh fuck.” Jeongin hissed, his hands flying to your hips, gripping tightly. Every trace of his cockiness was wiped away. You could feel him throbbing underneath you, the veins along his cock protruding at the need for friction. “Babe, don’t start something you can’t finish.” Jeongin warns, squeezing the flesh at your hip.

“Who says I can’t finish it?” You taunt, a playful smirk on your face. Before you could blink, Jeongin had flipped you over the couch, your hands pinned above your head with one of his hands as his other guided the tip of his cock to your entrance.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Jeongin smirks, barely pushing his tip in before pulling out again. “This is still okay right? You don’t need me to stop-“ “Yang Jeongin! I swear if you ask me that one more time- if I want you to stop I’ll tell you, just fuck me already.”

With your confirmation, Jeongin flushes out against your ass as he pushes himself into your warm heat. Erotic moans falling from both of your mouths. “Shit, you’re so tight baby.”

“Fuck, I feel so full.” You whine as Jeongin starts thrusting into you.

Jeongin watches as your tits bounce with each thrust he gives. His eyes linger on your ass as it smacks against his pelvis. A sudden smack echoed throughout the living space, followed by a sting of pain on your asscheek. Jeongin watched as the flesh moved under his touch, how it reddened so quickly, how you moaned as he spanked you.

“You're so pretty like this, bent over and taking my cock like this.” Jeongin’s words go straight to your cunt, that familiar knot forming in your stomach.

“Holy fuck I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered as Jeongin continued pounding you from behind. You were suddenly pulled back by your hair, forcing you to look up. “You gonna cum on my cock, doll?” Jeongin mumbled, his grip on your hair loosening so that he doesn’t hurt you.

“Mmm, fuck yes Innie! Please can I cum.” You cried out as your climax neared. “Cum on my cock baby, you got it.” He encouraged, his pace never faltering. A few more thrust and you orgasmed, a watery liquid wetting the two of you. “Fuck, you’re so sexy- you’re clenching so hard on me, doll.”

“Shit I’m gonna cum- where do you want it?” Jeongin grunted, his fingers retreating from your hair and wrists, gripping your hips yet again for support. “Inside.” You whimpered due to the overstimulation. Jeongin groaned as he filled you up with his seed, resting his head against the back of your shoulder as he emptied out inside of you, “You’re milking my cock so well baby.”

After pulling out and washing up, the two of you just layed there on the sofa in a daze. “So what was the lie?” You broke the silence. Jeongin looked over at you with a small smile, “That I had seen you naked- which I guess now isn’t necessarily a lie anymore.”

[blindmagdalena]

Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter seven)

18+ 7k. homelander x f!reader. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, abuse, forced relationship, slow burn, heavy dubcon, fingering, clothed/unclothed, dry humping. gif credit | fic directory | AO3

As promised, Homelander allows you an opportunity to say goodbye to the life you knew. After which, he does what he must to prove that you belong with—and to—him.

Days spent with Homelander are simultaneously long and yet strangely fluid, hours blending seamlessly into one another. Every day that he comes home, you endure the flip into what you’ve privately begun to refer to as “performance mode,” in which you’re playing the role of doting girlfriend.

So long as you maintain the idea that it’s a performance, you don’t have to think too much about how good the heat of his body feels against yours. You don’t have to question the ease with which you’ve taken to toying with his hair while the two of you watch television, or why you don’t mind it so much when he rests his head in your lap.

There was a day he came home early and caught you absently dancing in the living room while you tidied. That alone was embarrassing, but it was mundane enough of a thing to be brushed aside, to forget. Except that he wouldn’t. He’d fixated on it like a dog with a bone, and you’d had to endure his relentless teasing about it for the rest of the day.

“You act like you’ve never seen anyone dance before,” you’d said.

“I haven’t,” he said. “Not here.”

Your role here has many names: girlfriend, cook, therapist, maid, lover, and reinventor. It’s about more than just romance. It's a complete transformation of his empty, lonely world.

It’s what you must do to survive.

You learn quickly that he’s a creature of habit, favoring the same routine each day. He gets out of bed at the same time every day, showers for the same amount of time, and asks for the same breakfast that he does not eat. 

It drives you crazy to cook a breakfast only to find yourself emptying it into the garbage not an hour later, but the drastic and often unpredictable fluctuations in Homelander’s moods have made you reluctant to question or criticize him. 

Besides, what do you care if he eats your food? 

Caring is a creature with sharp teeth. It sinks its fangs into the deepest part of you and opens you up to deeper infection. Caring can hurt more than a punch, more than broken bones, more than anything that bleeds. Caring doesn’t break you clean. It’s a bone that doesn’t set, a cut that doesn’t close. Caring is to be vulnerable, to live as an open wound, and one thing you’re entirely certain of is that Homelander cannot be trusted with your vulnerability.

Yet you could not bring yourself to turn away from him. Not after he snapped at you, not after he screwed his eyes shut, not even as he began folding in on himself like a dying star readying to implode. Even though every primal instinct in you told you to run, your feet remained rooted.

You took him into your arms for the same reason you smother a flame rather than blow on it. In doing so, part of you has caught fire, embers continuing to burn.

The way he kissed you lingers on your lips like a ghost. His touches haunt every part of your tingling body, your fingertips numb with adrenaline as you pick up the containers from the coffee table. You can still feel the trail his hot mouth seared down your throat, branding your skin with the memory of his hunger.

He hadn’t embraced you so much as he’d clung to you, his hands testing every inch of the reality of you. He disappeared somewhere so deep in his own mind that it had shocked him stiff when you held him.

A panic attack…?

Strong hands settling on your hips break you out of your daze. Looking over your shoulder, you see Homelander’s smiling face. His eyes are bright and clear, his cheeks no longer streaked with tears. If you didn’t know better–know how easily and abruptly he can switch gears–you’d think you had hallucinated the entire thing.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, recognizing that expectant look on his face. Whatever he said, you didn’t hear it. “I was just thinking. What did you say?”

He huffs a little laugh. “Geeze, talk about a space cadet. C’mon, let’s get you airborne!”

Though your stomach flips, you nod.

I’ll take you flying again. You’ll be conscious this time around.

As soon as you have the containers of food safely tucked into a bag, he wastes no time scooping you up into his arms. The ease with which he lifts you is jarring; it’s less like being picked up by a person, and more like being strapped into a rollercoaster. There’s no sense of give in his strength, and all at once you’re shunted back to the memory of the night you were abducted.

It had felt the same way then, too. His arms coiled around you like steel, his chest a brick wall at your back. He’d held you then as gently as he holds you now. No matter how hard you thrashed, there was no give. 

No escape.

Your heart beats hard against your chest, apprehension tightening around your throat like a collar being pulled tight.

When will it stop feeling like this when he touches me?

The derangement of the thought strikes your addled mind belatedly. Never, you remind yourself. His touch should never evoke anything but the fear he’s earned 

A sudden rush of cool air from the door opening hits your face, the shift in pressure briefly paralyzing your lungs, halting your shallow breaths. You turn your face from it, nestling instead into the thick, textured fabric of his suit while you fight to catch your breath. 

Somewhere over the furious drumming of your heart, you hear him laugh, feel the rumble of his chest against your cheek.

He adjusts you higher up, bringing your face to the crook of his neck. You’re more secure in his grasp this way, and admittedly, you’re grateful for it. 

“Relax,” he purrs in your ear. “I won’t let you go.”

Yes, he’s made that abundantly clear.

In an effort to gain some modicum of control, you slip your fingers into the front of his suit collar, gripping the fabric tight. It’s stiffer than you expected it to be, but it at least serves as a good handhold that way. His pulse can be felt in his throat, the beat of it fluttering against the backs of your fingers. It’s quicker than you expected it to be.

You wonder what in the world he has to be nervous about.

“Just give me a warning before you take off, okay?” you ask, focusing on steadying your breathing.

“Before I take off?” 

There’s a particular playful lilt to his tone that makes you uneasy.

“Yes.”

“Hm. Can we pretend I did that thirty seconds ago?”

You rear back to look at him, and before you can think better of it, you turn to look down. Your vision tunnels, the edges of it blurring as your eyes fight to adjust to the sudden distance between you and the earth.

The reality of it sets in. It was one thing to understand his capacity for flight in theory, what it would be like to fly with him, but nothing could have prepared you for this. There’s nothing stabilizing you but him, the plummet below a nauseating hundred storey drop. Against your every wish, your stomach starts to churn violently. 

Tucking back against him, eyes screwed tightly shut, you mumble, “I’m gonna throw up.”

Homelander sucks in a breath through his teeth. “That’s really gonna ruin someone’s day down there.”

“Shhh’up,” you slur, white-knuckling his collar with one hand, the other clutching the bag of food to your chest. “I changed my mind, take me back, take me back. Can we please just take the elevator and drive? I really don’t want to–”

“Hey, hey, relax,” he coos, tilting backwards, bringing more of your weight against his body. The movement only makes you feel sicker. ”Closing your eyes only makes it worse. Y’gatta adjust.”

You shake your head and swear you can feel water sloshing back and forth in your skull. “Take me back, please take me back.”

Warm lips press against your forehead, his breath wafting over your scalp.

“It’ll pass,” he says with the certainty of experience. “It’s worth it. Trust me.”

Trust him? The audacity of the ask is enough to make you temporarily forget your peril and look up at him through narrowed glassy eyes. 

“Why in the world would I trust you?” you ask through your teeth, emboldened by your incredulity despite the way the tension in your body makes your muscles tremble faintly.

His grin doesn’t falter as he asks in turn, “What’s your alternative?”

Your lips part on an incredulous breath, disbelieving that he would be so blatant about it. 

In the three days you’ve spent with Homelander, there have been both ambiguous and unambiguous moments of cruelty. Moments where you were certain he was rubbing your captivity in your face, mocking you. 

Other times he seems so desperately lost you can almost understand the way he clings to you. Times where his cruelty comes not from an understanding of what will hurt you, but a complete inability to comprehend that you’re a living, breathing person with your own complicated innerworkings.  

“You’re unreal,” you say, mystified by the enigma he presents.

“And you’re flying,” he says in your same tone, those ocean blue eyes glinting with self-satisfaction.

You take in a breath to retort, but pause. Though your grip on his collar remains tight, you’re no longer shaking. For a moment there, you’d honestly forgotten where you were. Leaning against him like this, with more of your weight supported on his wrought iron frame, you don’t feel quite so much like you’re precariously dangling.

Though your heart is still racing, and your mouth's as dry as sand, you don’t feel immediately ready to eject your lunch anymore.

“Don’t look down this time,” he tells you, towards the horizon. “Look out.”

Hesitantly, you turn your head to follow his gaze.

The view is surreal.

The afternoon sky is a clear and vibrant blue that the maze of steel buildings below reflect, giving the entire city an oceanic hue. Hundreds upon hundreds of windows lit with warm lights dot the way like fireflies in a field.

In the distance, the sun has fallen low enough that it casts a golden glow across the water. It refracts the light in endless shimmering waves. The spectacle of it is enough to make you forget that this isn’t some fantastical world, that you live here.

Never could you have fathomed seeing the world like this with your own eyes.

“Fuck me,” you murmur, slightly dazed.

Homelander barks a laugh. “What, now?”

Ignoring him, you tentatively let your gaze drift lower. From this distance, all you can see of the lives below you are faint black dots, the flow of them reminiscent of an ant colony. The same loud bustling streets that you used to walk every day are silent from this vantage point, giving the city an uncharacteristic sense of calm. It’s the world–your world–as you’ve never seen it before. 

“See?” You feel the heat of the word against your temple as much as you hear it, his lips brushing along your hairline. “I told you it was worth it.”

You tear your attention from the cityscape and bring it back to Homelander.

While you’ve always distantly acknowledged that he’s attractive, he’s undeniably beautiful like this. Bathed in the glow of golden hour, his skin looks Midas touched, and the blue of his eyes is even more vibrant, the light giving them an almost crystalline appearance.

All over again you’re struck by the fact that, whether you want him or not, he’s inexplicably yours. Your captor, your roommate, your warden, your boyfriend, your gilded cage. You’re only where you are now–soaring above the city beyond the confines of that penthouse–because you found it in yourself to be all the things he wants you to be. The more you give, the more you get.

Play your part. Reap the reward.

This is survival.

“You were right. It’s beautiful,” you say, relinquishing your grip on his collar to instead slip your arm around his neck, leaning in to press your cheek to his in a make-shift embrace. You feel his surprise in the slight hitch of tension in his body before he relaxes back into you.

“Can I ask you something? Something about us. Or… about me, I guess,” you say, staring at the world from over his shoulder. Only now has your pulse begun to calm enough that you can properly hear yourself over the rush of your own blood.

His flag of a cape billows in the wind behind him as he flies languidly through the air, giving you something near to focus on. 

“Sure you can,” he says, feigning ease that doesn’t quite ring sincere.

He doesn’t like it when you ask too many questions, or start poking holes in the idyllic little fantasy you’ve been living for him.

“Why did you choose me?”

There’s a pause while he mulls over the question, the droning winds around you filling the empty space. Your stomach gives a small flip as he shifts, changing his flight path, making you wonder if you’ve made a mistake, said the wrong thing.

You draw back to meet his gaze, but his expression doesn’t betray any kind of upset.

“I’ll show you,” he says, the words punctuated by a wink, though the gesture doesn’t exude his usual self assured bravado. Based on the tension in his jaw, you get the sense he’s actually masking a buried nervousness.

Within minutes, you’re soaring over a part of the city you recognize with stark familiarity. Seeing your route to work from this angle has a surreal quality to it, like remembering a dream in vivid detail. It’s difficult to fathom that less than a week ago, this was your life.

Drifting to the ledge of a nearby building, he sits on the edge of it, adjusting you on his lap. While the height remains dizzying if you think too much about it, you can’t deny that the warm strength of his arms have given you a firm sense of security. 

“I used to come here a lot during my downtime. Between meetings and location work,” he explains, taking in a deep breath.

You do the same, cool air filling your lungs. It’s warm out, but the altitude brings in enough of a chill from the ocean to offset the late afternoon summer heat.

“I got familiar with this spot. The people, their routines,” he says, head lightly bobbing side to side.

“You saw me,” you fill in as understanding dawns.

“Yeah. I saw you,” he echoes, following the walkways below as if he’s tracing your path to work in the same way you are. “Every day.”

“You were really out here every day?” you ask with a lilt of surprise, looking at him. “I never saw you before.”

“People almost never do. You’d be surprised how rarely people ever look up.”

You hum quietly. Already you feel isolated from the world below. Nothing more than an observer. Knowing him as you do now, you can only imagine how outside of it all he really feels. 

“Do you ever�� go down there? Not as Homelander, but just as yourself.”

“I am Homelander.”

“No, no, I know, but…” You falter, wanting to be delicate. “You were someone else first, weren’t you?”

His gaze turns distant, no longer focusing on the streets below.  “No.”

You think again of the young boy in the empty room holding back tears, and your heart grows heavy in your chest. That child–and the man he grew into–had to have had a name once, didn’t he? It’s unfathomable to think he didn’t. Homelander isn’t really a name. It’s a persona, a product patented and sold by Vought. 

To have a name is to exist in people’s minds and hearts as a whole person. Whether the name is a gift or a choice, there is soul in a name. More than just an identity, a name is a love language. Be it a given name, nicknames, pet names, to name something is to love it. 

Names begin in the heart, form on the tongue, become shaped by lips and cradled by voice. They're an intimacy not only of the body, but of the mind and soul.

Surely he has a name beyond the hero’s title of Homelander.

Project Odessa.

You take in a breath, the question poised on your tongue, but Homelander speaks first.

“I don’t remember when, but you started to stand out. Couldn’t take my eyes off you. I wanted to know more, so… I learned more. And I saw that you were lonely,” he says, but you’ve learned to read between the lines when he tells you things about yourself.

I was lonely.

“You needed someone.”

I needed someone.

“Someone to take care of.”

Someone to take care of me.

“I wanted to save you.”

I  wanted you to save me.

“And I did.”

He looks at you then, his expression difficult to parse. There’s a challenge in his gaze, as if he’s daring you to contradict him, but that defiance isn’t enough to cancel out the fragility that always seems to linger when he admits to any sort of genuine feeling.

“I saved you,” he reinforces, voice quieter, firmer.

Sitting hundreds of feet in the air, you’re reminded that this isn’t a normal conversation.

This is a matter of survival.

Play your part. Reap the reward.

“Thank you.”

The tight line of his lips relaxes, spreading into a smile. It radiates the same sort of satisfied pride that he always gets when you show him gratitude for all he’s done for you.

To me, you correct yourself, fighting to keep those lines from blurring. When you look at your life through his eyes, you cannot deny that it looks small. Inconsequential. Lonely. Sad.

None of that changes the fact that it was yours. That it is yours. That he had no right to take it from you when he had every opportunity to ask to be part of it.

The worst part is that, given the choice, you’re starting to feel like you would have said yes.

It’s a conflicted kind of relief when he closes his eyes and presses his lips lightly to yours. The heat of his mouth–the instant memory of his tongue, his teeth, his roaming hands–sends a hot rush through you, but unlike last time the kiss is fleeting and chaste.

“Aaaalrighty,” he says, his voice suddenly full of vigor and performative boom. It’s a wonder he doesn’t give himself a headache with how quickly he’s prone to switching gears. “Let’s get this grubhub goin’.” 

He pushes off of the ledge and your stomach lurches the way it would at the start of a rollercoaster, a drop followed by a sudden lift. Your arm tightens around his neck while his smile lingers, clearly pleased by the clinginess this has imposed on you.

You don’t have to tell him where to go. He knows exactly the alley to land in, sinking between buildings to the very back, as not to be observed by the bustling crowd below. You’d grown used to the noise of the crowds, but after several days of quiet, the clamor of New York is borderline deafening. It makes you wince and reflexively press on one ear, plugging it while you adjust.

Regardless of the noise, you feel an instant relief when your feet hit the ground. Homelander’s hands linger on your hip and your elbow, steadying you.

“Well?” he prompts. “You glad we flew?”

“Let’s not get carried away,” you say, huffing a quiet laugh. “I very much almost lost my lunch, but… yeah, I’ll admit it was worth it,” you say, checking on the containers of food packed away. 

You’d considered hiding some kind of message amidst the food, but it felt too risky. There was too good of a chance that Homelander would check, and if he did, you wouldn’t have made it this far at all.

For all you know, he did check. You’re still not certain if he really has x-ray vision, or if that’s an invention of Vought’s for the movies. Better safe than sorry.

Maybe you won’t need a hidden message. Maybe you’ll be able to get across to John, without saying a word, that something isn’t right.

“If you wait here, I’ll be–”

“What, I’m not allowed to meet your friends?” he interrupts, hands on his hips.

“Oh, uh.” You blink, holding his gaze uncertainly. “I didn’t… think you’d want to.”

Homelander waves his hand dismissively.

“If he’s important to you, he’s important to me,” he says, slipping an arm around your shoulder and squeezing lightly.

“Besides, next to children, the unhoused are our most vulnerable population,” he says, sounding entirely too much like a politician with a list of talking points. “Anything could happen to him. I can keep a close eye on him for you, make sure he doesn’t get into any unnecessary trouble.”

His smile is too wide, too wolfish, and with a terrible chill you understand the words for the threat that they are.

If John causes problems for him, Homelander will remedy them.

Am I making a mistake?

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “Okay… Sure.”

Despite how heavily Homelander’s words hang over your head, you very nearly take flight yourself with the swell relief that hits you when you see John sitting at the end corner of the alleyway, hands busy with a Rubik’s Cube. He’s an imposing looking man in his late thirties, bearded and tall, but he’s never made you feel unsafe. He’s kind, and most importantly, he’s familiar.

You take in a sharp breath of excitement, his name on the tip of your tongue, but a crimson leather clad hand clamps over your mouth and pulls you back into the shadow of the building. Homelander pins you back against him, one hand keeping you quiet while the other slips around your middle, locking you in place.

Did he change his mind, or was this all just a game from the start? Your wide eyes prickle with tears.

“Ground rules,” he says, voice low in your ear. “We’ve been together for a couple of weeks, but for your own safety, it’s been kept a secret. You quit your dead-end job and traveled to Europe with me, from which we’ve just recently returned. Got it?”

Huffing shallow little breaths from your nose, heart racing, you nod.

“If I see any funny business, I’ll break his neck.”

You close your eyes, every beat of your heart a painful jab. His voice has the same cool hollowness it did when he warned you not to lie to him. It’s him, and yet simultaneously sounds like an entirely different person.

“Nod if you understand.”

A beat, and then you nod.

“Good girl,” he says, his smile audible in his praise. His hand slips away from your mouth and he kisses your temple, straightening out your clothes. His arm slinks around your waist, hand settling heavily on your hip. “Now, let’s get this over with.”

Rattled, you rub the tears from your eyes and take in a steadying breath, trepidation replacing your excitement. Dread pools in your stomach, the tide of it rising with every step, but you still manage to smile once you’re in earshot of your friend.

“Hey, John,” you call gently, lifting a hand to wave when he meets your gaze.

John does a double take, glancing up once, then twice, recognition flipping to confusion, and then rounding back to delight. He smiles broadly from beneath his wiry beard, pushing off of the wall he’d been leaning against.

“I’ll be damned,” he says as he approaches you. “You had me worried! I was beginning to think y–” he stops himself, belatedly noticing Homelander at your side. His eyes widen a fraction, and then his brows furrow.

In his myriad of expressions, you recognize yourself. That first night you woke up, how confused you were by where you were and who you were with. The whole thing felt like a dream, and John looks as though he’s wondering if this is one, too.

As a New Yorker, seeing Homelander–or any member of the Seven–in the flesh typically means one of two things: you’ve stumbled onto a promotional event, or trouble is close at hand. 

“Is everything alright?” he settles on asking, the priority of his concern for you instantly warming your chattering heart.

“More than alright,” Homelander answers when you take too long, flashing a winning smile. He gives your hip a squeeze, prompting you.

You clear your throat, lifting the bag off of your shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, yes, I’ve just–I’ve been away,” you say, already tripping over the lies catching in your throat. 

If I see any funny business, I’ll break his neck.

Thanks to you, John’s life rides on this conversation, and he has no clue. You kick yourself internally, desperate to get your shit together for both your sakes. 

“It was really impromptu, but, uhm, I didn’t want you to worry, and I have news, so I–” you flash Homelander a look, as if to say let me sell this, and he reluctantly withdraws his arm. “I asked Homelander if he’d come along, because I honestly didn’t think you’d believe me,” you say, forcing out a little laugh.

John hesitantly takes the bag when you offer it, but he’s looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, his eyes occasionally darting over to Homelander, who continues to stand akimbo behind you. “Believe you…?”

“That I’m dating Homelander,” you say, pulling your lips back in what you can only hope is a convincing smile, and not just a manic show of teeth.

“Oh,” he says, looking no less puzzled.

The whole situation is bizarre beyond words. That you would come to him, an acquaintance that you’ve known only through habit, through the quick conversations you’ve had in the transitional spaces between work and home, seems insane. That you would care that he knows or that he believes you’re dating New York’s premium hero.

Of course he won’t see that you’re a hostage. Why the hell would he? 

You feel out of your mind the same way you did sitting on that stupid couch, punching in website after website after website. It’s futile. You’re outside, you’re right in front of another person, someone who would be just as horrified as you are to know the truth, and yet you can’t say a damn thing.

This will always be true. Whether you’re standing in front of a stranger, an acquaintance, or your dearest loved ones, your truth will put them in danger.

All because of one lonely little boy.

Your smile holds firm, but your eyes well with tears.

“I quit my job,” you say, fighting back the sob threatening to choke you. “So I won’t see you anymore. But I, uhm–I just wanted to say goodbye. So, goodbye,” you say, moving to turn away before your emotions betray you any further, but John catches you by the shoulder, his touch light and painfully human. 

“Hey, you take care of yourself,” he says, looking to be shaking off the shellshock from what you’ve presented. “Y’always seem to be taking care of other people and their problems, so… Take care of you, too. If not for yourself, you’ll do that for me, yeah? For old time’s sake,” he says with a smile, giving the bag a little shake.

You stare at him, the confession of it all sitting heavily on the tip of your tongue. 

Help me! you want to shout. I can’t do this alone. I can’t take care of this myself. I need help. It’s too much. I’m scared.

You start to move towards him, and his opposite arm opens, as if ready to embrace you.

“Lucky for her,” Homelander interrupts, hoisting you suddenly into his arms and out of John’s reach, shattering any potential illusions. “She’s got me to take care of her now,” he says, his Hollywood smile stretched instead into a thin sneer.

“Great to meet’cha, pal,” he spits, voice devoid of any actual camaraderie. Tears burn in your eyes as his fingertips dig into you, his grip like a vice, like chains slipping back around your limbs. “Enjoy the food.”

Anything John might have said in response is swallowed up by the rush of air parting around him as Homelander shoots up into the sky, leaving your world in the dust, and any hope you had with it.

The flight back to the penthouse is quiet.

Homelander flies faster than he did on the way out, itching to be back within the safe, predictable confines of home. You’re tense in his hold, but both of your arms are wrapped around his neck, your face tucked in under his jaw, and he takes pleasure in that, at least.

It’s a miracle he didn’t rip that filthy fuckers arm off for the way he grabbed you, for the way he tried to pull you into his arms.

God damn pervert is what he is. 

You’re too naive to see it, but he isn’t, and there wasn’t a fucking chance he was going to let the guy cop one last feel before you were spirited away for good. The thought alone is enough to set his teeth on edge, to make him consider paying the son of a bitch a little visit anyways.

He grits his teeth.

No one touches his things.

It sets off something primal in him. A gnawing, feverish compulsion to claim you so thoroughly there could be no doubt that you’re his. He wants to fuck you, to mark you so obviously that no other man will ever touch you like that again.

By the time he lands on the concrete slab of his balcony, you’re shaking up a storm. He maneuvers inside without putting you down, as you’ve made no move to let go of him. 

Something isn’t right. 

He rubs your back, mimicking the patterns you make when you rub his, pausing when you suddenly make a choked noise that sounds suspiciously close to a sob.

What the hell? He did exactly what you asked him to. You’re supposed to be happy.

He carries you to his bed, a dozen versions of the two of you reflected back in the surrounding mirrors, and sets you down gently. Your arms slide loose from his neck and fall limply to your sides. Bending down, he cups either side of your face and brings your gaze up to meet his, perplexed to find your eyes brimming with tears.

“Hey,” he says softly, swiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb as it falls. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

You shut your eyes and make a sound he can’t make sense of, something between exasperation and agony. Though you try to pull out of his grip, he holds you in place, refusing to let you run from this. 

From him.

“No, no. Look at me. I did what you asked,” he says, impatience slowly wringing the gentleness from his voice.

Your eyes are red and glassy, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and over his thumbs. 

Christ. 

This is a far cry from what he had in mind when he thought earlier about how you’d make it up to him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you sob, taking hold of his wrists. “I just want to go home.”

His expression falls, brows furrowed in confusion, dismay, anger.

“What’re you talking about? You are home. You’re happy here. You have everything, you–I’ve given you everything,” he says, though a voice in the back of his mind reminds him that isn’t true. 

He hasn’t given everything. Not yet. He’s been holding back. You both have, and now you’re both suffering.

Enough, he thinks. Hasn't he been deprived long enough?

Haven't you?

You try again to pull away, but this time he pulls you forward, pressing his lips to yours. You make a sound against his mouth that sounds like surprise, but all that matters now is the thrum of your skin against his.

“Doesn’t have to be like this,” he says between kisses, following you as you pull backwards, his knee hitting the bed as he crawls over top of you. He lets his hands roam, learning you in the way he’s been aching to since the day he decided that you would be his, and that he would be yours. 

“You have no idea how fucking good I can make you feel.”

Pleasure has always been his greatest comfort. The ability to shut down his brain, to quiet the voices and focus solely on the physical. He needs it, and now more than ever, he can see that you need it, too. 

He kisses your jaw, your cheek, kisses the wet streaks from your skin and licks the salt of them from his lips.

“I can make it go away,” he murmurs, undeterred by your hands pushing against his chest. You have a nasty habit of fighting what’s good for you. 

“I’ll make you happy if you’d just let me.”

Your clothes put up less resistance than you do, the designer material tearing with ease. He swallows up your gasp with another kiss, slips his tongue into your mouth and grazes your teeth with it, daring you to bite.

Your pulse thunders in his ears, but not even the acridity of the fear coursing through you can hide the sweet heat of arousal seeping from between your thighs.

His own body aches in kind, cock throbbing needily behind his cup. His mind has already started to fog, the sting of rejection soothed by the need he can feel building in every part of your body. 

You want him. You do. He can feel it in the drumming of every climbing throb he hears your body give.

“All this teasing, this tension, it can all end. We’re so close to what we both want now, what we both need.” His hand slips lower, forcing your legs apart enough to drag his middle finger over your cunt through the satiny fabric of your panties, savoring the way it makes you shudder.

“I don’t want this,” you say, hardly sounding convinced of it yourself.

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me, ” he says, taking his hand away only to bite the tip of his middle finger, tugging his glove off with his teeth and tossing it aside. He moves it right back to your pussy, pressing in firmly to finally feel the hot, soaked patch of fabric against his bare skin. 

“Look who’s all wet.”

“Why are you doing this?” There’s a tremble running through your voice, through your body.

He huffs an incredulous little breath.

“I’m doing this for you. For us. I’m doing this because you don’t know how to let yourself be happy,” he says, drawing back to look at you. You’re beautiful like this. Eyes glassy and vibrant, skin hot under his touch. “All you have to do is let go, and I’ll make all the bad stuff go away.”

You don’t respond, but he knows by the look of you that he’s struck a chord. He kisses you again, and this time, you don’t try to turn away. Instead, both of your hands slip into his hair, and to his elation, you kiss him back.

He moans against your lips, shifting onto his side next to you so that he can better maneuver his hand, bringing his fingers up to slip them into your underwear, letting out a low sound for the feel of your velvety wet cunt under his bare fingers.

“Keep breathing,” he reminds you, acutely attuned to every inch of you, including when your breath catches. “That’s it… Good girl.”

The last thing he needs now is for you to pass out.

He kisses a trail down from your shoulder to your chest, nipping at the swell of your breasts before he kisses an apology into the soft skin, only to suck a mark at that same spot. He spreads your own slick from your cunt to your clit, massaging it between his middle and index finger.

You suck in a ragged breath, you whimper, and in that sound he knows he finally has you hook, line and sinker.

That’s when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror above. You shudder, turning your head away as if ashamed, but he won’t let you hide from this.

“Ah, ah, none of that. No shame in this. It’s a tale as old as time, sweetheart,” he says, pressing his middle finger slowly into the silky clench of your pussy. 

“Boy meets girl… Girl falls for boy… Boy fucks her brains out,” he half laughs, half rasps, hooking his leg over yours both to pull your legs wider apart, and to give himself your thigh to grind against.

He angles his thumb to rub your clit while his finger crooks, stroking inside you until he finds that delicate, puffy little bundle of nerves he’s been taught to look for. More than just by the feel of it, he knows he’s found it when your hips jerk suddenly, and you look at him as though he’s just invented the spot.

“I told you,”  he rumbles, kissing you slow, wet, hungry, “that I would make you feel good.”

He adds another finger, fucking you with them slowly, his pace building gradually. He imagines how it’ll feel to have his cock where his fingers are, and he nearly comes in his pants at the thought alone, his hips jerking against you.

“Look at yourself,” he sighs, his other hand cupping the back of your neck. “Look at yourself,” he says again, harsher this time, and your eyes snap up to the mirror above you.

You’re a mess, clothes torn apart and splayed under and around you, hickeys forming where he’s abused your skin with his lips. You’re fucking yourself down on his hand entirely of your own accord now, one hand fisted in his hair, the other in the sheets. Your tears have dried and there’s only sweet, mindless pleasure left in your eyes.

He’s never known a pain he couldn’t fuck away. He knew you’d be the same.

“So fucking perfect for me,” he coos, breath hitching on his own mounting pleasure. Your pussy squeezes his fingers, the lewd cacophony of pleasure filling the room the closer you get to the brink.

“Homelander,” you keen, voice fractured and sweet as sugar. 

He kisses his name from your lips, licks up the honied taste of it while he fucks you deeper, faster, his pace never once faltering, not even as you begin to thrash against him. He can’t tell if you’re trying to get closer or further, but he holds you tightly in place, gritting his teeth against the pleasure while he shamelessly humps your leg.

Your shallow breaths take on a pitchy sound as you writhe, as if part of you is still fighting him, fighting your pleasure, but in the end, it’s a battle you lose. Your cunt locks up like a vice around his fingers, your orgasm throbbing inside and out, your clit fluttering against his thumb.

You’re robbed of breath, of sound, and of sense as you come, capable of nothing more than a silent cry as pleasure–the pleasure he gave you–wracks your body.

He fucks you through it, relishing the way your quivering cunt squeezes his fingers, greedily pulling him back in on every thrust. It’s too much–you’re too much–and he loses himself to it, giving a ragged gasp as he comes shortly after. His eyes roll back, pulse after pulse of sweet pleasure filling his cup with liquid heat.

“I love you,” he gasps, nearly choking on the words, rocking against your still-trembling form. “I–fffuck, I love you, I love you so much.”

He’s languid but no less ravenous in the way he kisses your chest, your throat, your jaw, your mouth, all while his fingers rock lazily in and out of your cunt. Still coming down from his own high, he doesn’t stop until you’re grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand away, pleading your overstimulation with nothing but soft noises. 

He licks his fingers clean, intoxicated by the feel, taste and smell of you. A shiver runs through you, and it’s only then that he realizes he forgot to shut the balcony door behind him.

Too enraptured to move, to risk breaking the spell your bodies have cast over one another, he drapes his cape over your naked body, tucking you in against his chest.

Satisfied that he’s made his point, that you finally understand the gift he’s wanted to give you all along, he wraps both arms around you and nuzzles against the top of your head, pressing a kiss to the crown.

While ending your first tryst sticky and wet in his pants wasn't his ideal scenario, he'll take it. The weight of you in his arms, the taste of you on his lips, more than makes up for it.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, the words slurring together slightly. He strokes your back, holding you close as the tremors subside. He gladly takes credit for the way your breaths even out, for the way you sink into his arms, the resistance wrung from your muscles. 

All that’s left now is bliss. 

“That’s my girl.” And you are, without a shadow of a doubt, his.

( chapter eight )

[littlelamy]

hi!! love ur work!!

dk if ur accepting requests rn, but was wondering if you could write smth about pop star!reader & drew (or just overall singer!reader). i saw someone talking about it and i cant get it off of my mind

a/n: thank you so much for sending a request!💗

it was another sold-out show. another city. another wave of excitement from thousands of fans packed into a venue, shouting your name and hanging onto every note that poured out of you. the adrenaline rush of performing live was unmatched, the kind of high that no drug could ever replicate. but after a month of touring nonstop, even the thrill of being on stage started to wear thin.

it wasn’t that you didn’t love it. you did—every bit of it. from the screaming fans to the electric energy in the air, it was everything you’d dreamed of when you first started in the music industry. but there was a part of you that felt off-balance, like you were running on empty. touring was exhausting, the never-ending cycle of cities, rehearsals, and interviews blurring together into one chaotic whirlwind.

and then there was him.

drew.

it had been a month since you’d last seen him in person. one long, torturous month of late-night facetime calls, texts that never seemed to come at the right time because of your conflicting schedules, and longing that seemed to grow worse with every passing day. while you were hopping from city to city, drew had been just as busy with his projects—filming, press events, photoshoots. you understood. you were both caught up in your careers, chasing dreams that had taken years of hard work to build. but understanding didn’t make it easier. you missed him. every part of him.

the smell of his cologne, the way his voice sounded when he whispered in your ear late at night, the feeling of his arms around you when the world felt too big. it was starting to wear you down, the ache of wanting him by your side and knowing that, for now, it wasn’t possible. every facetime call ended with a hollow sort of emptiness, as if the screen between you was a barrier you couldn't break through no matter how much you wanted to.

the show tonight had gone off without a hitch, but you couldn’t shake the weird feeling lingering at the back of your mind, like something was missing. the lights dimmed as the crowd roared, the final note hanging in the air. you threw your arms up, shouting your thanks into the microphone before jogging off stage, your heart still racing from the energy of the crowd. the crew backstage clapped and congratulated you, but your mind was elsewhere.

“great show tonight,” your tour manager said as you handed off your mic and took a long sip of water, your body still buzzing from the performance.

“thanks,” you replied absentmindedly, brushing a hand through your sweaty hair. all you could think about was your hotel room. a long, hot shower. maybe a glass of wine. and then another lonely night where you’d scroll through the hundreds of pictures of drew on your phone, wishing he was there.

you were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice him at first.

as you turned the corner into the quieter part of the backstage area, something caught your eye. a figure leaning casually against the wall, hands tucked into his pockets, a soft smile playing on his lips. your heart nearly stopped.

it was him.

drew.

you blinked, unsure if you were hallucinating from exhaustion, or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. but no, there he was, standing there in a black hoodie and jeans, looking like he had just stepped out of one of your dreams.

“surprise,” he said with a smirk, his voice calm, but his eyes sparkling with mischief.

your body moved before your brain could catch up, your feet propelling you toward him at full speed. you practically launched yourself into his arms, your face burying in his chest as you held onto him tightly. “oh my god,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his hoodie. “what are you doing here?”

his arms wrapped around you, strong and warm, just the way you remembered. “i missed you,” he said simply, his lips brushing against your hair as he spoke. “i couldn’t stay away any longer.”

you pulled back, just enough to look up at him, your eyes wide with disbelief. “you didn’t even tell me you were coming,” you whispered, your heart hammering in your chest.

he grinned, that playful smile that always made your stomach flip. “that’s kinda the point of a surprise, babe.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside you, where all the stress and loneliness of the last month had been building. seeing him now, standing right in front of you, made everything else fade away. the exhaustion, the homesickness, the long nights spent staring at your phone—it all disappeared.

“i can’t believe you’re really here,” you said softly, your hands coming up to cup his face, your fingers tracing the familiar lines of his jaw, his cheekbones. you wanted to memorize every inch of him, just in case this was another one of those fleeting moments that would be over too soon.

“i wasn’t gonna miss the chance to see you perform,” he said, his voice low and full of affection. “you’re amazing out there.”

you felt a blush creep up your neck at his words. even after all this time, he still had that effect on you. “i’m better when you’re here,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “it’s not the same without you.”

drew’s eyes softened, and he leaned down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender way that made your heart swell. the kiss was slow at first, gentle and unhurried, like he was savoring every second of it. you melted into him, your hands slipping up into his hair as you kissed him back, all the longing and frustration of the past month pouring into that one moment.

when you finally pulled back, breathless and a little dizzy, he rested his forehead against yours, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your lower back. “i’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “i’m here. for as long as you need me.”

you closed your eyes, letting his words sink in. the relief washed over you like a wave, the tension in your shoulders finally easing as you let yourself relax in his arms. “i need you,” you admitted softly. “i always need you.”

drew’s arms tightened around you, and he kissed you again, this time with more urgency, more need. the world around you seemed to blur as the kiss deepened, your bodies pressing closer together as if you couldn’t get enough of each other. his hands roamed over your back, slipping under the hem of your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“God, i’ve missed this,” he murmured against your lips, his breath hot against your skin. “missed you.”

your fingers tangled in his hair as you kissed him harder, the sound of your breathing filling the empty hallway. you backed up against the wall without even realizing it, your back pressing against the cool surface as drew’s body pressed against yours. the intensity of the moment was overwhelming, the need to be close to him, to feel him, taking over every rational thought in your mind.

he kissed his way down your jaw, his lips trailing over your neck as your head fell back against the wall, a soft moan escaping your lips. “drew,” you whispered, your voice shaky with need.

“i know,” he murmured against your skin, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed his body against yours, his lips working their way back up to yours. “i know.”

the kiss turned desperate, almost frantic, like you were trying to make up for all the lost time in one single moment. his hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer, as if he was afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your chest heaving as you looked up at him, your lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss. “i don’t know if i’m ever gonna let you leave again,” you admitted breathlessly, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

drew chuckled, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his own breath. “i wouldn’t mind that,” he said, his voice low and rough. “i’d stay right here with you forever if i could.”

you smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love and relief. “good,” you whispered, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you leaned in to kiss him again, this time slower, softer, like you had all the time in the world.

the kiss was sweet, full of promise and love, and for the first time in weeks, everything felt right again.

as the noise from the crew and backstage workers started to filter back into your awareness, you reluctantly pulled away, your lips still tingling from the kiss. “we should probably—”

drew grinned, his eyes sparkling as he cut you off with another quick kiss. “we’ve got time,” he murmured against your lips. “let’s not rush.”

you smiled, your heart swelling with happiness as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. for now, it didn’t matter that the tour was still going, that you had more cities to visit, more shows to perform. all that mattered was that he was here, with you.

and you weren’t letting him go anytime soon.

the next couple of hours passed in a blur. after the initial surprise wore off, you and drew managed to steal away into one of the more private areas backstage, where you could just be together without any interruptions. sitting side by your side on a worn-out couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you finally felt a calm wash over you that you hadn’t felt in weeks. it was like everything settled back into place just by having him near you.

“so,” drew said after a while, his fingers absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair, “how many more shows do you have left?”

“three,” you replied, tilting your head to look up at him. “just three more, and then i’m back home.”

“home, huh?” he teased, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “you mean where i’ll be waiting for you with takeout and a bottle of wine?”

you laughed softly, nodding. “exactly that. except maybe i’ll be the one bringing the wine.”

he chuckled, his thumb gently tracing circles on your shoulder. “deal. can’t wait. but for now, i’m all yours for the rest of tonight.”

you leaned your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “i still can’t believe you’re here,” you murmured, your voice soft with contentment. “you really surprised me.”

“i wanted to,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “i knew how hard this month’s been for both of us. couldn’t stand being away from you any longer.”

your heart swelled at his words. there was something so comforting about having him close again, the kind of comfort that only came with someone who knew you inside and out. even with busy lives, drew always made sure you felt like the most important thing in his world.

“i love you,” you whispered, the words spilling out before you even realized it. it wasn’t the first time you’d said it, but every time felt just as meaningful, just as true.

drew’s arms tightened around you, his lips brushing against your forehead. “i love you too,” he whispered back, his voice full of emotion. “always.”

for a while, the two of you just sat there in peaceful silence, holding onto each other like the rest of the world didn’t exist. it was a rare, precious moment where time seemed to slow down, and you could just be. no pressures, no responsibilities—just you and drew, wrapped up in each other.

eventually, though, reality crept back in.

“you’ve got an early call tomorrow,” you reminded him reluctantly, your voice tinged with disappointment. “and i have to be at soundcheck.”

“i know,” he sighed, pulling back just enough to look down at you. “but i’ll be here, alright? for the rest of the tour.”

you blinked in surprise. “wait, you’re staying?”

“yeah,” drew said, his smile widening as he nodded. “i cleared my schedule. i’m not letting you finish this tour alone.”

a wave of relief and happiness washed over you, and you couldn’t help the huge smile spreading across your face. “drew, are you serious?”

“dead serious.” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you again, his lips soft and warm against yours. “we’re doing this together.”

tears of happiness welled up in your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away, overwhelmed by how much love you felt for him in that moment. “i can’t believe you’d do that for me.”

“i’d do anything for you,” he said softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “you know that.”

you kissed him again, slow and sweet, savoring the feel of his lips against yours. the exhaustion from the tour, the long nights apart, the stress—it all melted away, leaving only the warmth of his presence, the comfort of knowing you weren’t alone anymore.

as you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your eyes closed as you breathed him in. “i don’t know what i did to deserve you.”

drew chuckled, his fingers gently tracing your jawline. “i’m the lucky one,” he murmured. “believe me.”

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[sleepingdeath-light]

yandere hcs ; shadow milk cookie

requested by ; anonymous (04/09/24)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; shadow milk cookie

outline ; “Ahem… Shadow Milk Cookie Yandere HC’s?? *slides you a 20* (I’m 20 yrs old btw)”

warning(s) ; yandere!shadow milk cookie, potentially ooc!shadow milk cookie at points, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, stalking, kidnapping, physical abuse, psychological abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, heavily implied murder, just a really toxic and abusive dynamic overall (duh lol)

on the surface it’s quite difficult to tell the difference between shadow milk cookie’s behaviour as a lover normally and how he acts as a yandere… at least as long as you do as you’re told and don’t try and disobey him — and that’s pretty much entirely down to the fact that he’s the beast of deceit; lying and acting come as easily to him as breathing so he’s very good at either hiding the darker sides of himself from you, or at convincing you that the red flags and abusive behaviours that you do notice are either fabrications of your mind or completely deserved because of some slight you committed against him

he’s also very intentional about how he gets you under his thumb, treating the whole thing like an elaborate play where he ensures that everyone plays their part — he’ll stalk you religiously for weeks, make sure you never see him but that you know you’re being followed so that your mental stability declines, go out of his way to manipulate your relationships with your loved ones so they break down (or that they’re not around to care about you anymore) and you’re left completely isolated, and then, once he’s certain that you’re suitably vulnerable for his needs he’ll simply swoop in and take you back to his realm where nobody will be able to find you

(and where he can get rid of anyone who does without having to leave you alone for too long)

he tests you a lot, dangling the promise of freedom in front of your face just long enough for you to regain some semblance of hope only to snatch it away and punish you for daring to even think about betraying your husband — and his punishments are always incredibly disproportionate to whatever infraction you committed against him (e.g. your eyes lighting up a bit too much at the mention of something/someone from your old life for his tastes is met with a period of isolation so gruelling you’ll end up hallucinating and begging for his company, while an actual attempt to escape — even if wholly unsuccessful — is followed by a staged fight with the monsters dwelling in his domain that leaves you so broken and battered that you’ll be wholly reliant on him to be able to move for the next few weeks)

he claims that he hates these punishments just as much as you do, but the sadistic glee in his eyes when he’s enacting them and the smug grin on his face when you finally relent say otherwise

shadow milk cookie is extremely possessive — hence his very thorough method of isolating you from your larger social circle before he took you — and, as such, anytime he gets the slightest inkling that you might have at some point had feelings for someone else (be that a fleeting consideration that a stranger was attractive or an actual fully fledged past relationship) then he makes quick work of dragging them back to his domain and letting them know that you’re taken

he never elaborates on what that means, but based on all of the screams you hear when he brings someone new ‘home’ you decide that you’re better off just living in ignorance

he likes to talk to you, loves the sound of your voice more than his own, and could happily spend days at a time just chatting with you (or, as it happens for most of the earlier months of your ‘relationship’, at you) — but for as vocal as he is, sometimes he’ll just sit/float in the same room as you and just stare at you with that damned smile on his face

just following your every movement with visible hearts in his eyes — letting out the occasional dreamy sigh or humming along to a tune you couldn’t even hope to guess as he observes you like you’re some sort of exotic pet — and if he wasn’t literally holding you captive, if he were literally anyone else, you might have even gone so far as to call him cute for it

his ultimate goal is to break you and make you love him, and he makes good use of his magic and his talent for lying to do that — he convinces you that everyone you knew actually despises you and that nobody has even tried to search for you after you disappeared, he conjurs up illusions of your loved ones insulting and belittling and mocking you that infect your dreams and begin to twist your memories to match his assertions as more time passes in his realm, he oscillates between ignoring and isolating you and showering you with affection and attention to make you crave his presence and company more than you loathe him for kidnapping you, and he gets into your head enough to wholeheartedly convince you that every punishment he inflicts is for your own good

he’s manipulative as fuck and cruel as all hell, but eventually it starts to work and you begin to develop a sort of stockholm syndrome for your captor

it may take months or years or even decades if you’re especially stubborn, but you’re still only human and he’s willing to wait however long he needs to in order to see you break

after all, shadow milk cookie spent eons trapped in that damned tree waiting for his freedom so he can wait even longer for the love of his life

how disgustingly obsessive

how terribly romantic of him

[onlyforyoukook]

Hallucination

paring: jeongin x fem¡reader

synopsis: you saw your boyfriends hallucination stage performance, and couldn’t hold back.

a/n: i have a obsession with this song..🙂‍↕️

genre: one shot, idol au, smut.

wc: 2.2k

WARNINGS — MDNI, oral, hair grabbing, switched roles.. (dom¡reader—sub¡jeongin), (sub¡reader—dom¡jeongin)

The performance plays over and over in your head. Jeongin, up there under the lights, his voice low and hypnotic, his movements sharp and commanding. It’s like he was a different person on stage—a side of him he only shows the world, not you.

But that’s the secret, isn’t it? The world knows him as Jeongin, the idol, the performer. They don’t know him the way you do—the quiet, thoughtful boy who hums while folding laundry, who smiles softly when he thinks no one’s watching.

You sit on the couch, pretending to watch TV, but your thoughts are a storm. You’d gone to the performance in secret, hidden among the crowd, and you’d seen the way his fans screamed for him. You’d felt their love, their awe. And yet, your chest burned because none of them knew the way his hand feels when it’s in yours.

The door clicks open, and you jolt, your heart racing. Jeongin steps inside, his hair still damp from a quick shower at the venue, his bag slung over one shoulder. He freezes when he sees you, his lips tugging into a small smile.

“You’re still awake?” he asks, his voice soft, a little shy.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you cross the room in a few quick steps and throw your arms around him. He stumbles back slightly, his bag dropping to the floor with a thud.

“Whoa, what’s this?” he chuckles, but his arms wrap around you just as tightly.

“You were amazing,” you mumble against his chest.

He sighs, a quiet laugh escaping him. “You weren’t supposed to be there, you know.”

“I couldn’t stay away.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “You’re not mad, are you? About the way I have to act on stage? I know it’s hard—”

You cut him off with a kiss, your hands cupping his face. He’s caught off guard but quickly melts into it, his arms tightening around your waist. When you finally pull back, his cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are soft, full of something unspoken.

“I’m not mad,” you whisper. “I just missed you. Watching you up there—it’s like you’re someone else. I don’t get to touch that part of you. But now… now you’re here.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, and he smiles, the kind of smile that’s just for you. “You have all of me, you know that, right? No stage, no lights, no cameras. Just me and you.”

You nod, pulling him closer again, burying your face in his shoulder. He holds you there, swaying gently like there’s music only he can hear.

“Let me make it up to you,” he murmurs after a moment. “For making you keep this a secret, for all the times I’m not here.”

You look up at him, “you want to make it up to me?” He moves closer to you, closing the gap between your bodies. He gently cups your face in his hands, his touch tender and filled with a quiet intensity.

“I'm all yours,” he whispers, his voice filled with a promise. “You can do whatever you want with me, baby.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a thrill of excitement coursing through your body. You look at him, your eyes locking onto his as a smirk slowly forms on your lips.

“Oh really?” you tease, your tone playful yet laced with desire. “Anything I want?”

Jeongin nods, his eyes never leaving yours. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “Anything you want, baby. You can take control tonight, I'm all yours to command.”

Your smirk widens as his words send a shiver down your spine, your mind racing with all the possibilities. You let your hands roam over his body, your touch desperate and hungry as you explore his lean muscles and smooth skin.

“Such a good boy,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his ear.

Jeongin shivers at your touch, his body responding eagerly to your dominance. He lets out a soft moan, his head tilting back slightly as he submits to your will. He's completely at your mercy now, willing to do whatever you ask of him, ready to give you all the pleasure and affection you desire.

You slowly drop to your knees, your hands tracing a path down Jeongin's body as you move lower. You pause to tease him with a gentle nip on his inner thigh, before finally settling between his legs. You run your tongue along his sensitive skin, your breath hot against him as you tease and lick him in all the right spots.

Jeongin's breath hitches as your tongue moves over his skin, his body arching into your touch as he struggles to control his reactions. He lets out a needy whine, his hands reaching down to grip your hair, silently begging for more. His eyes are dark with desire, his pupils blown wide as he watches you tease him.

Without warning, you take Jeongin's cock into your mouth, engulfing him in the warm wetness of your mouth. You start to suck him slowly, teasingly, taking your time to savor the taste and feel of him on your tongue. Jeongin gasps loudly, his body trembling as he's finally given the pleasure he's been waiting for. His grip on your hair tightens, his hips bucking instinctively against your mouth.

Jeongin's moans fill the air, each one more desperate and needy than the last. His body is completely on fire with pleasure, his mind filled with nothing but the sensation of your mouth around him. The sounds he's making are so sexy, driving you crazy with desire as you continue to pleasure him. You can feel yourself growing more and more aroused, your own body responding to his every sound and movement.

As you continued to work your magic on Jeongin, you pull back for a moment to speak, your voice husky with lust.

“You're so beautiful like this,l you say, your words dripping with desire. Jeongin whines again, his body arching and writhing as you stop momentarily to speak.

“Please... don't stop,” he begs, his voice filled with need. “I need you, please... I need more...”

You look up at him, a sly smile playing on your lips as you respond.

“Patience, my love,” your tone teasing. “I’m not going to let you cum just yet. You need to learn to wait for me.”

Jeongin's eyes widen at your words, a mixture of desperation and submission in his gaze. He nods slightly, his breath coming out in short, needy gasps as he struggles to obey your command.

“I'll be patient,” he promises, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just... please don't stop touching me. I can't take it.”

Your smile widens at his obedience, and you lean in to give his cock a quick, teasing lick before responding.

“Good boy,” you praise him, your hand coming up to lightly caress his thigh. “You're being so good for me, waiting like this. I'll make sure to reward you later, but for now, just enjoy the pleasure.”

You resume sucking Jeongin's cock, picking up the pace as you feel him begin to tremble beneath you. He's getting closer and closer to his climax, his body straining with the effort of holding back. You look up at him, your eyes locked on his as you speak, your words a commanding whisper.

“Cum for me, baby. Let go and cum in my mouth.”

Jeongin grabs you after his high, flipping you over onto the bed. As you lay on your back, your body arched in anticipation, Jeongin's hands grip your hips tightly. He leans over you, his gaze intense and full of lust as he positions himself between your legs. He looks down at you with a possessive hunger, a smirk playing on his lips as he slides his cock slowly into your wet warmth.

You gasp loudly as Jeongin enters you, your back arching off the bed as you feel the fullness of him inside you. You bite your lip, trying to hold back a needy moan as he fills you completely.

“Jeongin...” you breathe out, your voice filled with a mix of pleasure and desire.

Jeongin grins at your reaction, clearly pleased with the way you respond to him. He starts to move, his hips rolling in slow, deep thrusts as he works to make you feel every inch of him.

“You're so tight and warm around me,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. “You feel so good, baby.”

You let out a needy moan as he continues to move, the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you driving you crazy with pleasure.

“God, yes...” you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling with desire. “More, please... don't stop, I need you so badly.”

Jeongin leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he begins to pick up the pace. He starts to fuck into you with powerful, deep strokes, each one hitting just the right spot to make you see stars.

“You like that, don't you?” he murmurs, his voice rough with lust. “You love it when I fuck you like this, when I take complete control.”

Jeongin's pace becomes even more relentless, his body pressing against yours as he continues to fuck you deeply and desperately. His kisses are fierce and hungry, his lips moving against yours in a needy rhythm as he claims you completely. He breaks the kiss momentarily, gasping for breath as he continues to thrust into you.

“Your pussy feels so good,” he whispers huskily. “So tight and perfect, just for me...”

Your moans become more frantic, your nails digging into his back as you cling to him desperately. Your mind is hazy with pleasure, each thrust of his hips sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your body.

“All for you,” you manage to gasp out between moans. “I'm all yours, Jeongin...”

Your words seem to have a powerful effect on Jeongin. As you utter that you're all his, he lets out a deep, guttural moan and his hips begin to move even faster and harder than before. His eyes darken with desire as he looks down at you, his gaze intense and possessive. He leans in close again, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers roughly.

“Damn right you're mine,” he growls, his thrusts growing more and more forceful with each word.

You're completely lost in the feeling of him, every nerve ending in your body on fire as he continues to pound into you with an almost animalistic intensity. Your mind is a haze of pleasure and lust, your thoughts reduced to incoherent moans and gasps. You can feel your body tightening around him, your climax approaching rapidly. Jeongin's grip on your hips tightens, holding you firmly in place as he drives into you with abandon.

Your body is tensing up beneath him, your breath coming in quick, ragged gasps as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your peak. The tension inside you is reaching a breaking point, your body craving the release that's just within reach. You look up at Jeongin, your eyes filled with a desperate need, as you struggle to find the words to tell him just how close you are.

“I'm so close, Jeongin,” you manage to moan out. “Please, don't stop... I'm gonna cum soon.”

Jeongin's gaze darkens, his eyes locking onto yours as he hears your plea. He smirks down at you, his hips still pounding into you at a relentless pace.

“Cum for me then, love,” he growls, his voice rough and demanding. “Let go and cum for me, I want to feel you clenching around me.”

“baby.. jeongin..” you manage to breath out and with those words, you feel yourself reaching the peak of your pleasure. Your body shudders beneath him, every muscle tensing up as your orgasm washes over you in waves of pure ecstasy. You cry out his name as you cum, your body clenching tightly around his cock, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

As your body trembles in the aftermath of your climax, Jeongin's thrusts become more erratic and desperate. He can feel your walls clenching around him, driving him to the edge of his own orgasm. With a final, rough moan, he buries himself deep inside you, his body shuddering as he cums hard, spilling himself deep within you.

After a few moments of catching his breath, Jeongin slowly pulls out of you, collapsing onto the bed beside you. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close and nuzzling against your neck.

“That was incredible, maybe I should dance to hallucination everyday” he murmurs, his voice still husky from your intense session. He places gentle kisses along your shoulder and collarbone, his arms wrapped tightly around you in a comforting embrace. His hands begin to softly caress your body, a soothing contrast to the roughness of their earlier activities.

“You did so well, baby,” he whispers, his touch tender and loving.

You snuggle closer to Jeongin, feeling completely spent but utterly content. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent as you bask in the warmth of his embrace.

“That was... amazing,” you murmur against his skin, your voice slightly hoarse from all the moaning.

MASTERLIST

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P44 | how romantic

You walked up to the gatekeeper of the concert venue, Yangyang and Chenle. Yangyang was seemingly trying his best not to acknowledge your presence. You found it weird and hurtful, but Xiaojun was quick to greet you once Chenle scanned the barcode on your phone screen.

"Oh, where's Aeri?" You asked Xiaojun, with your eyes still stuck on Yangyang's figure as you walked away from the concert grounds entrance.

"She's backstage! She's busy doing her finishing touches on Ningning with Minjeong." The smile Xiao gave you was supposed to come off as easy, but it looked off.

You wondered why.

He led you backstage, to Yuno's waiting room. When you opened the door, you were surprised to your dad, Geonwoo, Woojin, and even Mark already there. When you came face to face with your father, you felt that little girl within you resurfacing.

"Daddy?" You uttered out breathlessly.

Your father spoke out your name in a whisper, stared at you like you were merely a hallucination for him. However, as soon as his hand took hold of yours, he broke out of that reverie and immediately pulled you in for a tight embrace. His daughter, his baby daughter has now officially returned to him, but to you however, he was now one of many people you were going to leave behind.

You feel Yuno forcing himself into the hug, making you giggle through your tears. As Mark, Geonwoo, Woojin and Xiaojun left the waiting room, to give your family some privacy, his eyes stayed glued to you up until the door closed, banishing you from his view. Just like that his heart softened up again, not being able to be so angry at you anymore.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

When you exited the waiting room with your father by your side, Mark was the only one waiting for you to guide you to your seating section. It was the VIP section, and Mark was already the VIP usher anyway. He nodded at you awkwardly before showing you the way.

It was more awkward when you realised you were seated between Mark and Yangyang. It was awkward being next to Mark because you literally had an argument via text just before this, and Yangyang for whatever reason was ignoring you.

At least your father was comfortable with his seating, placed right in front of you, in between Geonwoo and Woojin whom he found to be wonderful young men, especially since he knew that the two were the people that helped bring a smile back to your face as they took care of you while he and Yuno was away from you.

Yoonsu took his seat at the non-VIP seat, looking up at the VIP section to look at you, a sinister smile playing on his lips at his plan to torment you tonight.

Mark couldn't believe his fucking eyes when all you did was focus on your phone while Jaehyun was busy waving at you from the stage. He was about to lose his mind altogether when you began to walk away from the bleachers, so fast as if you were in a hurry.

He almost couldn't catch up to you through the sea of crowds. Unbeknownst to him, there were three other people behind him who were also trying to follow you. He finally caught up to you when you officially exited the concert grounds through the concert venue gates.

When he pulled on your hand hard enough to force you to turn around and face him directly, he was almost taken aback at the pure vitriol you displayed before you quickly covered it up. Like it was something that came naturally to you, to wipe away whatever you were feeling before.

"Y/N—" He bit out, the whiplash of your expressions changing so quickly putting his anger back for a second.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Yangyang's voice cut through Mark's from behind him, and when Mark turned around as you looked past his shoulder, there stood Yangyang, Geonwoo and Woojin.

Yangyang looked like he was at his limit at being patient with you, while Geonwoo and Woojin looked bewildered.

"Yuno just came on stage, Y/N, so where are you going? Aren't you gonna watch him perform?" Geonwoo asked with genuine concern, so unlike the anger that was bubbling up within Yangyang and the anger that was present within Mark from earlier.

You let out a harsh and shallow sigh, clearly annoyed that they stopped you from letting you go to wherever the fuck you were going. Away from your brother who's already starting to perform.

"My friend, the one from my highschool, he needs me. I need to go now—"

That anger reared its head on Mark again.

"Is Junyoung really that important to you? Over your own family? Y/N—Jae and your dad are probably wondering where you are right now!" Mark raised his voice at you for the first time since forever.

You were quiet for a while. Your head turned to the floor, as your hands rubbed your face for countless of times. You racked your brain trying to think of an excuse. Yoonsu is probably at the bus stop already, wondering why you're taking so long—or worse, he's currently watching this argument unfold and getting his rocks off from this.

You hated him so much. For stealing your youth, for murdering the only normal part of your youth, for letting you relive your mourned youth.

"...and what if he is?" You uttered out in a monotone voice.

"What?" Woojin let out in disbelief.

"So what if he is more important to me over Jae? While I was suffering under that bastard loanshark, he was the only one I had to lean on. I was the only thing he could find solace in too. Do you understand what we've been through together? Do you understand the bond we have?" You feel your eyes water, feeling so disgusted with yourself.

"No offense, but the things we did for each other those 3 years ago means a lot more to me than what any of you have done for me up until now." When you couldn't bear lying so blatantly to their faces anymore, you resorted to eyeing the floor beneath you again.

The four men before you were struck into silence at your words. The blatant disregard of the sacrifices they made for your sake, the way you were so latched on to someone they don't even know so well, someone you're gatekeeping from them so possessively. As if you didn't think they were worthy enough to get to know Junyoung, who you held in high regard.

"My mom fostered you up until you entered college. Me and Woojin took you in and cared for you—we still do take care of you. Yuno and all of your friends have been patient with you to let yourself open up to them in your own pace—and all of that means so little to you? Do you have to put someone so high above that you would make the rest of us feel like this?" Geonwoo spoke out in a voice devoid of any emotions.

But when you looked into his eyes, your heart broke completely at the disappointment that seemingly dripped out of his usually warm brown eyes like fat droplets of tears rolling down his face. Your heart broke for three more times as you saw the same disappointment from Yangyang, Mark and Woojin.

"Fine. Fine then. Go to your precious Junyoung. I can keep your father company and cheer on Jae while he performs. I'll be the one that can explain to him why you weren't here for him as he gets to live out his dream as a singer. You can go to your Junyoung." Mark spat out, then turned on his heel to leave you there.

And the other three soon followed suit. You watched as they walked further and further away from you without looking back.

You feel a hand slither over your shoulder, and a pair lips pressed against the side of your head.

"Outstanding performance, baby. You should win an Oscar for that."

prev | masterlist | next

A/N : *giggles and kicks feet* heyyy so i won't be releasing those two extra chapters because they're not finished yet but i will tag you guys once i finish writing them 😭 so sorry y'all

oooooooooooooooooooooo

• taglist • [CLOSED]

@spiderm444rk @morkiee @xiuriii @solvrse @neozon3nha @herebyaccident0 @injunnie-lemon @mystverse @dearmonamour @v-6893 @sehunniepot @bee-the-loser @nessaassen02 @luluvhs @sunghoonsgfreal @docilismo @neocrashed @soobinbunnie5 @cigarettesafterjae @dudekiss3r @kittydollzz @urlocalbeaner5 @polarisjisung @conwunder @wonupuppy @jae-n0 @413ktz @kimsaerom @meowtella @aerivrs @swanyvess @morkleesgirl @sthwaaberry @nominzn @grassbutneo @spicyryujin @koizekomi @sunflowerhae @markeroolee

[aq2003]

ok spoilers for macbeth i guess . incoherent ramblings and immediate thoughts abt it bc i'm crazy

- the opening scene made me gasp and cover my mouth the entire way through. the way it opens w a BANG and macbeth washing his hands of the blood while praises of his prowess on the battlefield ring around him but he just looks so haunted and miserable the whole time sets the tone of the play SO well

- macbeth is Losing his fucking mind. from the START. and this is such genius characterization. he is so unwell. he is so on the edge of something terrible from the very beginning of the play and the pushing from the witches and lady macbeth is the catalyst that tips him over the edge. there are remnants of his consciousness and guilt ringing around in there and when they bubble to the surface it is so heartbreaking bc you know they will be snuffed out as the play goes on

- lady macbeth's humanity. i think this is the most human lady macbeth i've ever seen she is so in the throes of loneliness and grief and she misses her husband and thinks the murder will bring them together but instead it sends macbeth into this awful downwards spiral and the guilt eats her alive. when she says macbeth is "too full of the milk of human kindness" it's a mischaracterization. she doesn't know how much her husband has changed while he's been away fighting the war

- THE DAGGER SOLILOQUY the way it's lit and staged and acted like he's talking to his own shadow and convincing himself to do the murder. this scene was fucking amazing from the balcony the way he crawled around on the ground UGHHHHH IT WAS SO SO GOOD

- david looked right up at me when the crown was put on his head and my heart fully stopped right there

- the "full of scorpions is my mind" line reading deserves every single theater award ever on its OWN i DO NOT CARE GIVE DAVID TENNANT EVERY AWARD EVER

- macbeth taking off the crown to talk to the murderers because his killing spree is driven by macbeth the sharp edged violent soldier and not macbeth the king. like Oh my god

- BANQUET SCENE IM CRAZYYYYYY OH MY GODDDDDD FJCKKKKKKK THE WAYYYYYYYY THEY LIT THIS SCENE TO SWITCH FROM MACBETH'S TERROR AT BANQUO'S GHOST TO THE PERSOECTIVE OF THE THANES !!!! I KNEW DAVID WOULD EAT THIS SCENE UP BUT GOD. MY GODDDDD.

- the second scene w the witches was staged SO good and SO creatively like macbeth hallucinating his peers and friends and family and his son being killed and brought back in some twisted possessed form to tell him the prophecies OUGH

- fleance walking up and down the side of the stage. both macbeth and lady macbeth repeating this motion like they're remembering their son and they're haunted by his ghost . FUCK

- the death scene of lady macduff and her son was so violent i gasped out loud again

- malcolm is so fucking good in this like i REALLY like the idea of him being a teenager and the friction between him and macduff comes out of a difference in amount of life lived. also the "face it like a man"/"feel it like a man" lines become so Interesting with transmasc malcolm i need to process my thoughts on this further

- tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow was SOOOOOO. IT WAS SOOOOOOOOO. LIKEEEEEEE even though she pushed him towards duncan's murder lady macbeth was the last tether macbeth had to his humanity at the end and it's so so fucking tragic and sad. like i felt that "signifying /nothing/" within the DEEPEST pits of my soul.

- THE YOUNG SIWARD SCENE. I THOUGHT I KNEW WHAT WAS COMING AND I DIDNT AND I NEED TO BE FUCKING SHOT I NEED TO BE SHOT I JEED TO BE SHOT I NEED TO BE SHOT JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

- macbeth's death was played so perfectly like i don't even have the words for it the whole final fight scene and his death was so fucking good i need to be shaken like ragdoll

- i'm insane

[vanillaanillav]

flower symbolism in alien stage

So, we have two confirmed flowers mentioned in the series—Clematis from Round 1 and Edelweiss from Round 2—and the red flowers from the Anakt Garden. I have a few options for what those could be, so I’ll go over each option at the end. 

Of course, Clematis is the most obvious flower reference. Here’s what they look like if you’re unfamiliar. It’s a beautiful flower, available in pink and purple varieties, colors which you can find in both of their color palettes. 

They represent transformation and wisdom, the pursuit of knowledge, determination and spirituality. Very compatible with the themes of the series, and specifically of Mizi and Sua’s love for each other. They deify each other and transform each other, through meeting and knowing each other. Sua’s knowledge of their world and Mizi’s lack of it is what leads to her death and to Mizi’s subsequent transformation.

Clematis grow on vines, constantly racing up towards the sun. Sua’s sacrifice, I think, is what will allow Mizi to finally reach it.

It’s really lovely and terrible. A perfect fit for them. 

Now Edelweiss! It’s a very tough plant, but also very short-lived, and nearly impossible to get your hands on, as they’re native to the lonely peaks of the Alps. 

It’s representative of devotion, nobility, and purity, which is FASCINATING to me. There are many more romantic flowers out there, even ones with meanings specifically related to unrequited love, but Edelweiss specifically so perfectly encapsulates why I think Till likes Mizi. 

He sees her as something pure, untouched by the nightmare of their lives. She’s kinder than the others. Naive, still believing in good things like homes and friends and love. 

Even when he hallucinates her, he imagines her as a child, big-eyed and smiling—her purest form. He hates their capture. Hates living, fights and fights and fights. I think he clings to her as a symbol more than a girl by the point of the Alien Stage, devoting everything to this ideal of her, continuing to sing his confession at her even while she’s crumbled into a ball of grief. That version of her may not even really be the being he’s singing to. 

He clearly has her on a pedestal in his mind. When he loses that idol, both watches his friend lose her innocence and then his symbol of purity go apeshit and beat the hell out of their competitor, he loses everything. By the time we see him in Round 6 he’s been completely broken down by the system, never fully developing the will to live for himself, only for his Edelweiss. 

As for the red flowers…

They have five petals, with a black center. Honestly, given that one of Mizi’s likes is “artificial Anakt flowers,” which are presumably these, they're probably not intended to be a specific type of real-world flower. But I’m going to play in the sand here anyway!

Poppies have four or six petals, but they do have the dark core. Red ones specifically symbolize death and remembrance, which is… obviously fitting the themes of the series. But, the red flowers are used mostly to depict their childhoods, specifically their playful childhood love rather than their deaths. I think some of the other options are more fitting.

Geraniums are commonly red and have five petals, but no dark inside. They symbolize deceit and preference, with the red variety further meaning stupidity and consolation. Yowza!!! 

Preference is clearly applicable—Mizi and Sua choose each other to give their flower crowns to, Till makes his flower crown for Mizi. It seems like a ritual among the kids that they give their flower crowns to someone they like.

Stupidity could be for Till not noticing Mizi’s clear mutual interest in someone else, or for Ivan, either not realizing that the flower crown he stepped on was Till’s or thinking it would get Till’s attention in any other way than Till jumping him LMAO.

As for deceit or consolation… I feel like these don’t quite fit? Deceit isn’t present in the scenes with the red flowers, though maybe in Sua and Ivan’s decisions to sacrifice themselves? Consolation is unfortunately not really present in the series at all. Much to all of our collective pain and suffering.

So, petunias are my favorite option for the red flowers. They’re five-petaled and have the dark center, even if they're not as similar as poppies... just hear me out!!!

They represent two conflicting ideas—anger and resentment, and “being with you is soothing.” I think this fits all three of the pairs they’re shown in relation to. Till’s anger with Ivan in their childhoods for ruining his flower crown is pretty clear, his anger with him in general, even with the world.

Then Mizi and Sua’s reciprocated love—of course, being with each other is soothing, and Till finds Mizi soothing as well, as we covered in their section. 

I love the double meaning. I think the meanings flip as they age, as well. Mizi resents Sua for leaving her, and Till only realizes once Ivan’s gone that he did, in some way, appreciate his presence. 

Anyway I just had to get this out of my system because I have so many Thoughts about this series. Also fun tidbit: Till is said to specialize in floral art. Much to think about...

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

I absolutely love the hype Bill’s getting and I’m here to contribute ꨄ︎ My request of today is; Remember the celeb crush thing I requested a while ago for Tom? Well my love for Bill is taking over and I’d love to see how you’d adapt it for him! To make it more interesting, I thought maybe the reader is already a fan and confidently goes out to talk to them even though the language barrier is present. Couple days later she goes and surprises them at a concert and makes this a little tradition til she and Bill realize they’ve developed feelings for each other but of course, work and distance is a huge obstacle

(Hello, lovely! Sorry this took so long and I didn't know if u wanted a oneshot but I was pretty lazy so here ya go! Enjoy!)

Bill Kaulitz x Celeb-Crush Reader

He actually was pretty calm when he first noticed you

He had been one of your fans for a bit, seeing you in tabloids and online and had even gone to one of your concerts when him and the band weren't really well known

You were actually an example of his dream of being young but making it big

And as he grew up in fame, you never really left his mind because you also grew with your fandom and fame

Your style may not have been the same, your music either, but Bill still loved watching you on stage and on videos

He was almost starstruck when he actually saw you in the flesh when they were performing

YOU were at THEIR concert?!

By choice?!

He almost freaked out on stage but surprisingly hid it well

He just smiled, flashed a wink at you and somehow kept making eye contact

And you didn't look away and you fed into it from the crowd!

He tried so hard not to faint

When it was all over and he went backstage he was ranting to Tom, Gustav and Georg the whole time

"She looked at me! She looked at me- huh?! Who?! (Name)!"

Bill almost knocked Georg out right then and there

They then clicked in their mind he was actually talking about the one star he could rave about for-literally-ever

Bill was still a mega-fan, and the boys were dragged into it or ranted too

But what really almost killed Bill was after the concert and they were meeting with fans and signing stuff

He had just finished up taking a photo and signing a T-shirt and looked up to see you!

He took a moment and was just staring, mouth open and looking to Tom to see if he was hallucinationing

Tom laughed at his brother as Georg and Gustav watched as Bill almost dug his grave

You had to snap him out of it as you asked for a autograph

You almost out him in cardiac arrest because he rushed to find a marker

He snatched Tom's marker in the moment but he didn't give a shit

He was so giddy you asked him for his signature and was so happy

He tried to strike up a conversation but failed

Not to worry, you were absolutely glad to talk to him

Bill was so happy, and he and you had much in common and actually flirted surprisingly

Once he got over his shock, of course

You guys actually clicked

Turns out, you were a fan too, which shocked Bill

There was a language barrier, but Bill spoke a bit of English so he could at least speak to you

You knew a bit of German due to playing there either solo or in a band and you guys figured out a way to understand each other

As time went on, even after you guys parted ways, you somehow kept in touch

You would go to their concerts and he would be glad to go to yours

You guys were spotted by photographers leaving hotels, walking in the city on "dates" as they called it and many more

Fans went crazy and so did paparazzi, chasing you guys down almost all the time

You and Bill didn't mind, even enjoying it in photos and you guys got a few photoshoots together

You guys were a pretty popular celebrity ship but would never admit it, even with the looks and smiles you two would give over time

Bill always thought he was in a fever dream

Because no way his celebrity crush would actually like and be a fan of his, much less spend time with him

You and Bill developed a tradition of traveling to see each other

You mainly did yours in surprise, but sometimes it was difficult

You were on tour and so was he, so spending time and being together for a bit scarce

You did your best hut Tom and you spent less and less time together and it was actually quite sad

Until you surprise him by showing up backstage, which he was shocked and ecstatic to see you

It was a tradition, either of you would sneak off and find one another no matter where

But it got a bit complicated as fans doubled down on this ship and your friends always compared your "relationship" and labeled it more than a friendship

Maybe there were feelings, maybe there wasn't

But the red dust and smile on Bills face would choose the latter option

[queer-ragnelle]

What are some of the weirdest stories/books/movies etc you've encountered in your Arthuriana journey? Whatever weird might mean to you (good/bad/unsettling/unexpected/surreal/goofy)

Hi anon!

This is honestly a tough thing to answer because what even constitutes a weird Arthurian retelling? They're all pretty weird haha! But I definitely have a few that come to mind

The French film Perceval (1978) is super weird in a great way! It's shot on a stage with painted backgrounds and metallic trees and structures for the set. Real horses are brought on. A troupe of bards provide diegetic music, playing instruments and singing a narration of events on screen while also acting as characters in their own right (such as the jester Kay throws into the fire). Perceval and Gauvain narrate their own stories in third person at times too. It's surreal! It's as if Perceval's world is "fake," since his mother has kept him isolated for so long, it's a distorted view of reality. This is the closest adaptation of Chrétien de Troyes's Story of the Grail I can think of, it's nearly word-for-word, BUT! They removed the racism and antisemitism. Two thumbs up! The ending is bananas. There's no describing it, you just have to watch. You can download this movie from my MEGA drive or it can be watched for free on Tubi! (Content warning for nudity and some gore.)

The film Unidentified Flying Oddball (1979) is my favorite adaptation of Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. The main character Tom works for NASA developing an android named Hermes. Through a comedy of errors, both Tom and Hermes end up launched into space at the speed of light, traveling through time, and crash land in Camelot, 508AD. Mordred mistakes Tom for a monster (due to his space suit and orb-shaped helmet) but Tom quickly wins Arthur's trust and allowed to hang out. He meets Sandy, a girl who thinks her dad has been transformed into a goose, and together with her and a page named Clarance, works to return home. It's exceedingly silly. I much prefer the character Tom (and Hermes, who is identical in appearance to Tom and jousts for him) to Sir Boss in the Connecticut Yankee film from 1949 with Bing Crosby. Tom's gun is funnier than the original as it's more like a science-fiction laser that blows things up. He also has a magnet ray he uses to draw armored knights where he wants. Not a good film, but goofy and fun. You can download this movie from my MEGA drive! (No content warnings, it's a family movie!)

The film Excalibur (1981) obviously has to make this list. Coincidentally, it's mostly for Percival again. The Grail Quest segment accounts for just 20 minutes of the entire film, but it feels like eons. And it's So Weird. It's safe to call it horror. Percival meets struggle after struggle, encountering many dead comrades along the way, raving mad townspeople struggling to survive, Morgan and Mordred attempting to steer him wrong. He's eventually hung from a tree and has a vision of God's voice. (Hallucination or real?) The dead knight dangling above him sways and his spurs cut Percival free. From there he runs into Uriens and holds him as he dies, struck down by miscreant knights. Percival eventually achieves the grail, obviously, but it's not until he's pushed the absolute limits. It's probably one of my favorite sequences in film ever. 11/10. You can download this from my MEGA drive! (Content warning for nudity, rape, gore, and incest.)

As for books, I recommend The Modern Arthur Trilogy by Peter David. The first one is Arthur running for mayor of NYC, the second one is President of the United States, and the third one he sort of becomes a god. It's wild. Other characters include Guinevere, Lancelot, Morgan le Fay, Mordred, Percival, Merlin, and of course the Lake of the Lake. The sequels randomly add Gilgamesh and Enkidu (and later Noah, like the guy with an ark in the Bible??) and it's all very strange indeed. The first book is definitely the best but Gilgamesh/Enkidu were pretty freaky (affectionate) so I did enjoy that, although the whole premise of book two is...meh. I listened to the graphic audio books which were awesome, the sound effect of Arthur falling down the subway stairs in full armor is worth every penny. (Content warning for incest, murder, cannibalism, racism, and terrorism)

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

I’m just going “wild” as you post about what happens in Titans. -Rotten Anon

I can imagine that is the case for someone who has never seen the show lmao

here are a few of my top favourite funny and strange things that have actually happened in Titans:

Conner asks the person who created the science behind his cloning, Eve Watson, if he can call her Mom, because he thinks the idea of having 2 dads is lame (and maybe he's homophobic??? possibly an inherited trait from Lex Luthor - it's never made completely clear) (and shortly after he asks her this and she says 'yes', he never fucking sees her again ever)

(also I feel the need to add on that when Conner went to Lex Luthor's childhood home, all the pictures of young Lex were photoshopped bald, insinuating that he has been completely bald since his childhood - but the character doesn't have a hair disorder because adult Lex in the show has a full beard)

Conner wakes up from a coma and immediately shows Gar his whole bare dick, and then eats cereal out of a mixing bowl

Conner purse jacks a former Jigsaw trap victim to pay for his icon Superboy tee shirt

Conner has a major identity crisis after Lex Luthor dies (which may or may not be due to a giant satanic snake crawling around inside of him and causing him to look pregnant for a while?) and shaves his head (with the use of his laser eyes!!!) and then goes around acting more like Lex on purpose - which includes insulting everyone and acting like a giant asshole. and the show purposefully makes a joke about how people who are assholes wear Drakkar Noir

(most of the ones I love are about Conner, because the show does so much bizarre shit with him)

there is an entire episode about Dick having a hallucination of Bruce following him around and critiquing everything he says and does, including saying that Jason falling 50 stories was good because "dropping your problem children off buildings can be beneficial", him saying that Dawn dating Hank after dating Dick was an upgrade, and (best of all) Bruce dancing an elaborate cabaret dance on stage with 2 female dancers who are wearing sparkly outfits while Dick is trying to talk to the owner of the club to find out where Deathstroke's handler is

Gar was beaten to death by the Titans (or, as close to death as possible without actually dying, the show doesn't make it 100% clear), and instead of actually dying, he turns into a snake and this snake transformation somehow magically heals all of his injures (well, most of them, because he is still very bloody and bruised for most of the episode) - but then he is never able to transform into a snake again for the rest of the show's canon

Jason murdered Hank with a bomb implanted in his chest, and then he felt bad about it, so he role-played an apology with two prostitutes (no contact prostitutes, at that - like they had a little bedroom set up behind a viewing window) and he made them call themselves Dawn and Hank and he literally said "Hank, I'm sorry for killing you" (and this makes me fully believe that the show wants me to think that Jason - even unconsciously - has a weird sexual fixation on Dawn and Hank??? like Mommy and Daddy kink style?? especially because Hank tried taking care of Jason emotionally before the whole murder thing)

There is probably way more that I'm forgetting, but these are just the ones that came to mind immediately lmao

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Theory: Each of the final bosses in Isaac represents a stage of grief.

Satan/The Lamb represents denial. As the first path added (though not the first finished), it’s the first step his mind takes on processing his own impending death and grieving it. It continues with the false narrative Isaac has created in his own head, of being demonic, and completes it. He overthrows his masters, and defeats the demonic part of himself. It’s a comforting lie, that he uses to avoid processing what’s happening. Mega Satan also ties into this, despite being also accessible on the Polaroid path- it’s Isaac either falling deeper into his delusions or regressing into them, and it represents Isaac's internal narrative becoming completely separate from reality- Satan is already a figure Isaac has been taught was real, and the Lamb is himself as the Antichrist, but Mega Satan is a ridiculous concept entirely to look cool. Isaac's no longer even slightly rooted in reality at that point- simply making up comforting delusions that are based off games he used to play.

Isaac/Blue Baby represents sadness. The second final path added, despite being the first finished, this represents Isaac's sadness and fear upon finally being able to comprehend his death. The Cathedral is something beautiful, a monument to a faith he still holds dear despite everything, and the Chest is both literally where he'll die and also clearly something he treasured in life, something he's leaving behind. The bosses here are not only happier versions of himself- representing Isaac losing any sense of happiness and peace at his own death and falling into despair- but also what he’s losing out on- his own afterlife. Isaac and Blue Baby are angels, while Isaac will forever be damned due to his own suicide. He feels hopeless melancholy, and even the happy memories of what once was cannot bring him joy.

Hush/Delirium represent bargaining. Isaac at this point desperately wants to live, and thinks if he can fight off the weakness from oxygen deprivation and the delirium from his brain shutting down, if he just is able to do that, he can escape, and everything will be happy, and he can live. Hush is a representation of his own suffocation- both being literally blue from oxygen deprivation like Blue Baby, but also being gasping for breath. Delirium is, of course, the intense hallucinations and delusions from his oxygen deprivation. Isaac tries his best to fight through them. But it’s already too late- by this point, he’s actively dying, he’s far too weak to be able to free himself. The symptoms are too severe to be overcome, and all he can manage is a glimpse of clarity, a memory of his life beforehand, before he loses all touch with reality again.

Mother represents anger. Isaac, now given up on any chance of escape, is angry- angry at himself for attempting suicide, angry at his father for leaving, but more than anything angry at his mother. She's the one who made him feel like he had to do this! She's why he's dying! In his addled state, he struggles to distinguish between the reality of his situation, the slow and painful suffocation in his toy box, and his fantasy, where his mother is trying to kill him. He fights to get a real weapon, puts together the fragments of the knife, but even after killing his mother and her heart again, he is not satisfied. In the corpse, he mindlessly attacks anything that reminds him of her, his mind conjuring a world entirely defined by her decaying body, and in the end, he kills her again. But no matter how many times he kills his mother, he is not satisfied. His anger has no point, no justification. He is trapped, and he cannot find peace through his imagination.

Finally, Dogma/The Beast represent acceptance. Instead of Isaac following the path of his delusions, he instead desperately fights for the memories that flicker in and out of his brain, to comprehend them. He thinks about his father, and how he left, and the arguments his parents had. He confronts those harsh truths- that his mother is not a monster, but a person. That his father is not a saint, but a person too. That he was never the problem- that his death is pointless, yes, but also that he is not sinful, that he is loved. And then, he remembers his home. His room, the halls, the closet in which he was locked in, the living room. Here, as his memories flash before his eyes as he's near death, he realises he's not at fault for his own abuse, but also that his mother was not acting purely out of evil and spite. He remembers the hateful words he heard on the Christian broadcasts she would watch, and the dogma that lead them both astray, and he fights it, dismantling the hateful preaching but holding onto the things that bring him comfort. He's able to, finally, defeat what remains of his delusions, the beastly and tainted ideas of his mother and Christianity, and he finally passes away at peace, knowing he was loved. Whether the final cutscene is a comforting illusion or his afterlife, Isaac dies knowing that he is loved and that he is worth something. For the first time in his life, Isaac is able to accept that he was never at fault for anything that happened to him, and at the very least he is able to die happy, remembering his games with his father and his mothers love long ago and Guppy. It’s incredibly bittersweet, but Isaac was dead from the moment he entered that chest. This is the best ending the game could ever realistically have.

Was any of this intended? Oh, almost certainly not. But I think way too much about the lore of this video game and you have to think about something when you spend twenty minutes minmaxing in Sheol I guess.

[celestialdragoncookie]

https://www.tumblr.com/celestialdragoncookie/771571523272294400/can-i-ask-a-request-for-one-of-my-oc-their-name?source=share

Well, her favorite part is that, she can play along with them, like she can control some... But never the main characters in the story. Sure, she can control the rest of the background/npc/whatever except the main characters, Cookies... Although, she find it amusing that they don't know anything Abt us, the humans, or just watching/reading this, while the Creators/us, are just playing with them as entertainment

Although, she is quite apathetic, since we can literally just erase their memories and make things worse for them or something... So, she'll probably warn them to just accept it, otherwise there's dire consequences... But she wouldn't go into details to keep us a mystery... Since if she does get into details, we'll intervene (or something like that) to keep them from hiding us out... And the last quote/text would be like, after god know what happened to Y/N, "they're/she's not wrong... You guys are just merely entertainment for us to play with~"... And I suggest adding Shadow Milk cookie, cuz it'll be funny to see his reaction after learning that he's also a puppet for entertainment us/them

(And you can choose the characters that meet her, I don't mind :D)

" The consequences of Forbidden knowledge"

In the distant land, the sky blackened with dark stormy clouds as flash of lightening illuminated the whole area as a single black Tower giving a very ominous, fearful vibes as it seems to be haunted roof tops falling one by one as the gargoyle statues cracks as the light from the storm giggles making the statue look like it has come to life. The area around the tower is covered in swamp, filth, thick dense fog that will falter your vision from the swamp emits thick dense methanol along with thick poison having strong hallucination and illusion effect that will mislead you it's one of the most dangerous and fearful places existed as you have second to think to cross paths as the area is filled with bloodthirsty beasts.

Within the tower, in the guesture of the throne room a single figure sat on it with bored expression, dressed in black blue hoodie with black coal jeans as the hoodie covered the figures face as a single cyan glowing diamond shaped pupil, a wide arrogant smirk plasted on the figures face as the figure stood up making a gesture that was more of a taunting welcome when servent greets it's master as the figure proudly introduced it's as creator cookie or Y/N cookie, as the tone was filled with much more arrogance and pride like a child of some rich heir.

"Welcome my dear audience, I humbly welcome you to my domain where this worlds secrets are kept save from those arrogant fools who seems to think, gaining their filthy paws on the forbidden knowledge without paying the price it's laws of equivalent exchange you know. Heeeee that certain ignorant cookie was arrogant, sadistic and prideful in himself believes that this world is actually a new stage for him where the audience praise him, his enemies are his mere puppets the power of knowledge belongs to him and him only, hahaha the look on his face when he believes that he possesses all of the knowledge of this world yet he has not a single clue that he himself is the biggest puppet in his own show believe that he is mistreated protagonist hahaha the look on his face when I told him the truth, ohhhh that expression of utter despair, false hope, fear, anger and especially surprise, what a pathetic display of his might one snap of my fingers he lost all of his power hahaha".

As the creator cookie laughs like a madman running her hand through her cyan coloured hair as her eyes glowing with a hint of madness subdued rage with endless profound knowledge inside her brain made her almost into berserk mode as she took deep breaths stood tall not falter a single victory smirk walking on the bloody long carpet as storm chuckles making a loud bang of flashlight illuminated the shadowy throne.

" I was once a human, a childish innocent naive young girl that hasn't graduated from the university total nerd for computers, emerse in games digital hacking many other things" as she continue to Walk barely covering her rage grits as looks at the bloody portrait displaying of an old ruler and his sponse grits her teeth as veins popped on her dough eyes flashing in rage barely saying understand sentences" I shouldn't have trusted " him" because of him all of things important in my life was stripped away from that point I began to live in a hellhole while he enjoyed the previlage I was assassinated by a fucking truck driver I my remorse, rage all pent up negative emotions give me a second chance in life, the world where I was too familiar with the world of cookie run kingdom where I was a geek. Due to tasked of protection the knowledge I decided to toy with the characters from the shadows for my satisfaction to fuel my amusement watching them crawl helplessly begging to survive makes me want more drama don't you think shadow milk cookie"

Turning towards her right only to see shadow milk cookie in chains covered from head to toe as the muzzle was preventing him to speak, he glared still shocked from gaining the truth as creator cookie walk towards him with predator gaze kneed in position causing him to flinch in fear as she grabbed his chin said with a smirk " that's more like it hahaha the once arrogant proud jester and beast of deceit has reduced to this ..... Mess much be pleasing to my eyes haha look at you fall from grace such a pitiful state still shocked I see from learning the truth that you are a puppet yourself remember your a merely an entertainment to satisfy my amusement and boredom you five beasts, like a script in a play villains will bow down before the heros as they always triumph hahaha as the arrogant witches themselves prided in creating of mere cookies think that they are thier rightfully rulers ordering them like a bunch of hounds such silly hounds and fools are cookies, haha they didn't even know that they also puppets themselves such a shocking sad truth when they will learn oh the looks on their I can't wait to see it haha"

As she forcefully shove him away causing a loud thud as she sat on her throne with an aura of wisdom, arrogance and pride as cold smile plastered on her face looks at the fallen chained shadow milk cookie " remember you foolish cookie I will destroy and wipe any arrogance pride genocidal expressions of those foolish ones that claimed themselves above others just an best example of you beasts, when I said I will always keep my word the night is long the beasts of the night prepare yourself to return to your metal home once I hunt them hahaha".

Unknown to her numerous eyes saw through her figure glaring at her believing that she is the true arrogant, her arrogance has reached the heavens if she is coming to hunt the beasts then they are coming to hunt her instead beware the hunt has begun.

[dominijoyce]

Some Feelings About Disco Elysium

I wanna say, I've never really related to the need of wanting more represantation of your culture and/or community. I understoon the idea and why actual represantation beyond headcanon and fandom interpretation was something many people strive for and need more of. I just never personally could relate to that need - even if it revolved around cultures and communities I am a part of.

Yes, I was always happy when I saw a represantation of those like me, especially if said represantation is positive but I never felt that "I needed this".

Well at least not until playing and finishing Disco Elysium.

I do not want this to be some extremelly long personal post so I will not go in detail of the game itself but as someone who has suffered from psychosis for years now, I don't think I have ever felt so close to the protagonist of the game as I did with Harry.

While I also see Harry as plural, For the entire game I couldn't help but keep thinking how Skills [and items like Necktie] talking to Harry is quite literally how I experience everyday through my life with auditory hallucinations that incidentally do manifest as random inputs out of nowhere in my head that are impossible to locate the source from.

And the way Harry talks, the way he interracts with the world - even if you decide to only pick the most "sane" of the given dialogue options, you still may struggle heavily to be seen as "normal" by other characters in the game. That one is something heavily personal to me as well - when even at the times of me trying my best to mask, the symptoms and effects of my psychosis among other mental disorders still manage to come out and possibly freak others.

And just... In general showing Harry's struggle and him being intense and quite often not being sure what was the intention of his actions either, not knowing why he cannot put the phone down, not being able to stop what he's doing even when he knows he already failed [specifically talking of when you lose a Check but cannot back out even if technically nothing is stopping him from shutting up or not continuing to harm himself, etc.].

He is lost, yes he is a complete amnesiac so that's given but even in later stages of the game where he recovers some parts of himself and the world around him, he is still struggling and quite often openly talking of needing a break and just, stoping everything around him.

I could go on, yes but it would be repetetive of me and if you played the game you probably are able to yourself name multiple other characteristics of Harry not being "sane" no matter how hard he/player might try.

I'm listing all of those because as I mentioned, those are heavily personal and relatable things to me as well. Dare I say, except for amnesia, sometimes my daily life does just feel like playing Disco Elysium. [Although I do suffer from micro-amnesic episodes as well...]

And I didn't know I needed a protagonist like Harry Du Bois in my life, I didn't know I needed a game like Disco Elysium in my life that lets you put on the shoes of a canonically psychotic character and written in a purposefully ugly way. Not romanticising it but also being respectful and not treating Harry as a monster nor a person who will never be part of the society [the ending of the game hit way too close to my heart...]. The game doesn't beat around the bush or tries to minimize the horrors of his mind or characterize them in the way where it feels like the game's genre is meant to be fantasy instead.

The game and the writing of Disco Elysium is just... honest. Honest is a good word. It shows you both the ugliest and the prettiest and the most hurtful and the most hopeful of Harry's mind. And before playing Disco Elysium, I struggled heavily to sometimes explain the way my mind works, even to myself - to put pieces of it in place or category. But Disco Elysium made me able to and able to notice certain patterns or realize certain things of what is going on with me. I needed this game in my life, I needed this protagonist in my life and I didn't know I did until I finished it.

I suppose it is no surprise I will now consider Disco Elysium my favorite game and keep recommending it to people who can handle heavy subject the game tackles. It is also no surprise that I have already started my second playthrough of the game. The way mentality of Harry is written is just one of many other amazingly written aspects of the game. The game's story made me emotional, the game's characters made me emotional, the setting made me emotional and there is still so much content I haven't managed to explore on my first playthrough. Not to mention I cried twice or thrice during it. It is a masterpiece, I believe.

Thank you, Robert Kurvitz. Thank you, Aleksander Rostov. Thank you Helen Hindpere. Thank you for creating and writing an experience so close to mine I didn't know I needed to see represented.

[val-likes-music]

Val's Albums [1] - Origin of Symmetry, Muse

How could I start this blog without reviewing one of the most impactful alternative albums of the early 2000s? 

Muse's 2001 masterpiece, Origin of Symmetry, may just be the album that brought the "space rock" genre into the spotlight, and it sure delivers. 12 biting tracks demand attention, featuring screeching guitars, spine-chilling vocals, abstract lyrics, and ethereal piano. OOS is a red-hot meteor crashing down to Earth, and it wants the world to hear its fiery descent. 

In my opinion, this album is where Matt Bellamy - Muse’s frontman and main songwriter - really came into his own. Don’t get me wrong; their prior album, Showbiz (1999), was a sparkling debut for the band. Many regard it as a more ‘depressing’ album, and this was reflected in the frontman’s attitude. Struggling with touring and adjusting to the life of a musician, he felt that the Showbiz era was one of their lowest points. Going forward, he vowed to have “more fun”, and this new frame of mind is more than evident in OOS. 

As soon as the first track begins, Muse set about defying expectations. Mournful, classical-sounding piano coupled with Bellamy’s soft falsetto set the stage, raise tensions, build and build until… a chaotic, nasty, distorted guitar riff slaps you right in the face. And before you know what hit you, the track spirals into a loud rock piece that serves as the perfect opener for the fifty-five minute journey awaiting you. New Born is an unforgiving song that juxtaposes dirty guitar and fast-paced melodies with Bellamy’s melancholic cries of “Wasting our last chance / To come away…”

The next track, Bliss, uses heavenly synth arpeggios against more distorted guitar, which elicits a sci-fi feel that perfectly complements the soft tones of Bellamy’s voice. In fact, a common theme in this album is the relationship between the frontman’s voice and the rest of the instruments. The high falsetto heard in almost every track on this album is as much of an instrument as the guitar, the drums, or the bass. It feels skilfully woven into the clever melodies charging on beside it. 

Perhaps the most breathtaking example of Bellamy’s voice is the haunting track Micro Cuts - with a borderline creepy main melody and soaring operatic vocals, Matt’s voice ascends all the way up to a G5! With possibly the most enigmatic lyrics of the album, the song was penned about the vivid hallucinations Bellamy experienced during severe dehydration.

Catchy songs like Plug in Baby (perhaps the album’s most popular track), take the traditional rock format and turn it on its head, utilising a blazing scale-like riff, and once more that wistful voice to carry it into the atmosphere. Not afraid to blend in a little piano, too, Darkshines is a shining example of Matt’s proficiency on both the guitar and the keys. 

But for all the praise the frontman’s getting, it’s worth noting that the other two members of the band play key roles in giving the sound that spacey shimmer. Dom Howard is a genius on the drums, and his technical skills prove invaluable in grounding the soaring vocals and melodies. While not his most impressive performance, Screenager sure is interesting in terms of percussion - experimental sounds such as animal bones provide the beat for a quiet, introspective track about self-harm. Chris Wolstenholme’s magic on the bass provides bright counter-melodies that perfectly complement the shrieking distortion of the guitars, like in the heartbroken chaos of Hyper Music. 

And Citizen Erased can’t be left out. It’s the longest song on the album, but every second is important - from the mind-rending industrial screeches at the beginning, to the expansive final chorus packed with heat and emotion, to the celestial lustre of the descent afterwards. Many consider it to be the best song on the album, and it’s certainly understandable. It’s Muse packed into seven minutes. Intelligent melodies, heart-stopping vocals, and that otherworldly shimmer that seems exclusive to the band. 

These spacey melodies and beautifully tender vocals carry the listener through the human mind and out into the far reaches of the universe, swinging from moving to mournful to loud and abrasive (and doing it with style, too). The final track, Megalomania, feels like a perfect conclusion to an hour of auditory magic. Sweeping church organs wash through the track up until the final note, showing itself in all of its magnificence, as if to say “This is it.” 

Perhaps aiding in the album’s creation, a good deal of the songs were originally recorded at Ridge Farm Studios in Surrey, a homey studio seemingly surrounded by nature. For this album, Muse aimed for a more energetic style, and so most of the recording was done as a band. This did a great job of capturing the energy and dynamics of the bandmembers, and added a richness to the recordings that you don’t often see in studio tracks. 

The experimentation was a strong aspect of the album’s creation as well, as their producer often encouraged the band to explore new directions. And as for inspiration, the field of psychedelic mushrooms right next to the studio seemed to supplement Bellamy’s already-genius songwriting. When it comes to lyrics, Matt has stated not even he knows what some of them mean, which seems to be a recurring theme for Muse in general. Vague yet poetic lyrics - while regarded as lazy by some - allow the listener to have a unique interpretation of every song, making the tracks rather personal. 

Twenty years after its initial release, much to the joy of Muse fans, the band announced a remix and remaster that completely revamped the - let’s be honest, kind of muffled - sound quality. Along with this crisp new sound, extra instrumentation and vocals were added from those recording sessions long ago. Additional strings in the second chorus of Space Dementia gave the song just what it needed, and a harpsichord added to Micro Cuts takes the creepiness of the track to a whole new level. 

Origin of Symmetry was something new, something unique, and it paved the way for many artists to follow. Despite only being the second Muse album, it still holds true as the classic Muse sound, open and raw and drenched in stardust. With iconic instrumentation, iconic vocals, and an iconic album cover, it stands as a testament to the dazzling creativity of the band. No one’s forgetting about Origin of Symmetry, that’s for sure. 

Track listing: 1 - New Born 2 - Bliss 3 - Space Dementia 4 - Hyper Music 5 - Plug In Baby 6 - Citizen Erased 7 - Micro Cuts 8 - Screenager 9 - Darkshines 10 - Feeling Good 11 - Futurism  12 - Megalomania

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Official website: muse.mu