#anyhoo what a ....show.

[spockvarietyhour]

I really wasn't expecting the finale to try and t

no, not hat, as I was saying trying to tie the whole show toegether

But also something is happening here.

[shaadowmilkcookie]

admin rambles complete and utter nonsense that adds nothing to the world (about shadow milk pre-corruption)

i found this old screenshot of me trying to get into the mind of my version of pre-corruption shadow milk and it reminds me that i want to write down how i see him before his update is released! so that i can compare it and inevitably cry when seeing all the differences!!! praying-upon-my-own-downfall type shit.

some people like to write pre-corruption shadow milk (who i'll refer to as 'blueberry milk' from now on) as someone who was always a bit of a cunt, but... as fun as i think it is! i can't commit to that! he was made to be kind. he was made to be a guiding pillar.

for me, blueberry milk was... someone who dedicated his entire life to truth, to wisdom, and respecting knowledge... someone who wants to USE that faith to reality and integrity to help others through their own struggles.

...someone who eventually sees how people don't really want to hear the... truth. they want sugarcoated lies. they want someone to tell them everything is going to be okay. i mean, really, how can you expect him to keep going? knowing that your desperate followers don't even respect what you value the most?

he loses the ability to empathize with people who aren't ready to face the truth. he can't see any point to hiding behind falsities.

he wanted to educate others. to show them the truth. not be a sage, a lying prophet.

they put him on a pedestal. they take his words as law.

they've made a scholar into a god.

that's why 'fools' is repeated so much in that screenshot -- it's emphasizing the moment he truly detaches himself from everyone else. he realizes the differences of mindsets between him and his 'followers', of how needy they are for pitiful comfort. it's the first time he's ever referred to other people as fools - but it just... makes so much sense, the moment he utters it. that's what the repetition is: the accuracy of the term echoing, doubling itself, taking hold of his mind as nothing but the utter truth.

he does initially feel disgusted with his own cruel words and inability to feel empathy but... but the longer he thinks on it, the more it makes sense. the less he's able to feel bad. because he just can't see the rationale behind such... frivolous, emotional, nonproductive, pointless behaviour.

and i understand that.

[shallowseeker]

If you're a native Spanish speaker, wanna take a stab at the telenovela in 7x03? (It's very hard to hear under the main audio.) You can hear, My love, my love? I think I hear, no me dejes (Don't leave me) in the mix.

I love that Ricardo, you know, has a bloody collar and smudge on his right brow, kind of like...you know:

///

7x01

Ahem.

It also, of course, calls to mind John's death in 4x03, but only in how Mary cradles him.

The rest is so-- [REDACTED]

And if you think Dean wasn't grieving in his prickly veneer of toughness, listen to his voice in that brief moment he thought Cas was back. His breathy little "Ca-as?" is sooo shaky.

Then, he and Bobby both grabbed onto him with the intention of getting him home (and working through what just happened, "Okay, one thing at a time.") It was so--

This is the same episode where Cas said he had no more nostalgia for Dean and threatened to snap him into bloody soup, and then Dean urged Death to kill Cas, and Cas looked somehow shocked, despite what he'd just threatened to do himself. They're so--

To say nothing of the look on Dean's face when the Leviathan says in clear words, "Cas is, hmm, gone. He's-- dead!"

[mossiestpiglet]

romantic killer is good but also so hard to watch because on the one hand It Knows What It’s Doing but at the same time i am seething in rage the entire time and i need to peel that hamster like a kiwi

[leolovesthings]

watching one silly show, so tired of the dramatic good ppl died here, our ppl!

what, you mean nameless npcs we never got to know at all?

oh. yeah. what a bother. when was the last time you've killed a single character who mattered a little bit? no? well then, there i go, disconnecting.

idk when the writing turned so lazy, but seriously. started off as a high stakes, blood pumping, nobody's safe, and yet arrivied at the good ol' impenetrable plot armor.

[henrysglock]

Hey! In one of your recent posts you mentioned in the tags that adding another queer romance plot to st would cheapen the series-long buildup for byler, and I'm curious - why do think so?

I feel like maybe this is being misread, and it's probably in how I phrased the tag. Another queer romance in general would not cheapen the byler build-up. It's not about the number of queer romance plots, it's about how they're introduced.

Would another queer romance plot be detrimental? Not necessarily. Introducing one with only one season left and so many other things to wrap up in a limited amount of screen time? Absolutely.

If they'd started it even last season (i.e. backstories and a bunch of solid interactions), then sure! Go ham! Have them run in parallel. Like if they'd done a Robin-Nancy-Steve love triangle and Nancy ends up with Robin and they'd started the romance of it right away in S4? Yes please!!

That said, none of that happened.

We got three Vickie-Robin interactions, only one of which was even vaguely mutually romantic. We know next to nothing about Vickie, too. All that backstory would need to be set up in conjunction with all the supernatural plots and the byler plot.

That is to say: to build-up the Vickie-Robin relationship to the level it needs to be at for a romance plot, they'd have to take screen time away from either the supernatural plot and/or byler.

We know the GA adores the supernatural plot, and that is the main premise of the show, so logically they'd take screen time and story depth away from byler to give this other pairing the barest amount necessary background for a romance plot.

On top of that, it would (in my honest opinion) feel like they're cramming a rushed, underdeveloped queer romance in right at the end for...what, exactly? Byler's had this beautiful, painful, series-long build-up just to get to pining stares, and then...what? A side couple just swoops in like "hey we're gay too but we got there fast and easy with next to no character development"?

Adding a last-minute queer romance plot would detract from the impact of byler. In order for this slow burn to work, the focus needs to be on byler when it comes to the queer aspect.

They've also shown that they can write a beautiful queer romance plot, so why screw over Vickie and Robin with a rushed, underdeveloped queer plot? That's a bit insulting to their romance too.

In conclusion: The timing isn't right, and trying to fit a brand new queer romance in at the last minute isn't good for anyone.

[cordiformity]

really dreading the annual tri-family camping trip this yearrrrr

[wanderedaway]

Nothing like being yelled at and cursed at by a customer I was less than thrilled to have today near the end of a difficult shift.

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 12/09✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@snsp6 I really hope that this won’t change MK’s view on his bio dads :( Anonimo Hello! Wanted to ask or more so I am wondering, will MK start seeing Wukong differently after finding out he literally killed Mac and even after seeing their past and how close they were, dam the trauma, anyhoo I love your art and the Shadowpeach bio parent au! Keep up the great work! >:D

Oh it will. (In a good way? a Bad? that's for me to know and for you to wait a week to know)

@hopefulbelievertimemachine Imagine if MK found someone who recently found out that they were a demon and he comforts them cuz he had a similar experience.

Oh that would be sooo wholesome!!! It's one of my fav trope when there's another character who go throught the same exact thing as another character and the two of them bond over this.

@zammy357 Hello, hope your day/night is going well. I wanted to ask since me and a friend like your bio parents blog and wanted to know if we can use it for an arc? Our blog is called @amnesia-wukong-au. We wanted to ask before we started doing it.

Hi!! Yeah sure as long you tag me and the masterpost of the shadowpeach au

Anonimo Wait what is a glamour (in context of Sun Wukong and Macaque)

A glamour is a magic spell that changes/cover your appearance. Like in the show macaque should technically have 6 ears. for animation purposi I guess they are not drawing all of them, but we say he uses a glamour also for covering his scarred eye.

@clueless-simp ha chiesto: What if PIF, BDK, Sun Wukong, and Macaque (and most definitely Mei) did a "parent trap" tactic to get MK and Red Son together? Setting things up, getting them alone together, pretending they are all busy, and the only option is for them to spend time together under the sunset XD XD XD

Oh no that would end bad. like-comically bad.

@honeylavender27 ha chiesto: Imagine red realizing mk doesn't know about court napping and just invites him over one day. Red son: so I'm sure your wondering why I invited you here.. Mk: yeah it's kinda weird you didn't want Mei to come. Is everything ok? Red: perfect actually, I'll explain everything just enter here first please. Mk: oh ok -walks into the prepared courtnapping room and gets locked in-.....uh red? Redson: consider yourself courtnapped...

Ahah poor MK. I think they would make a disastrous courtnapping that would be the equivalent of the phrase "task failed succesfully"

@artgurusauce ha chiesto: ARGGGHHHH, they're SO CUTE! I love your bioparent AU so much! Altho I am wondering: When MK turns back to normal would he retain some subconscious paternal attachment to our ol boys here? Maybe he even calls Macaque "Mom" without realizing it...

@blazerratbluefire-blog ha chiesto: Plot twist of the century for the oblivious monkey men. MK remembers ~everything~ when he was a cub! I'm not sure if that is what is planned, but! It would be really funny! Especially if he just calls Macaque 'Mama' all casual and just walks away. While Macaque EXP. has crashed and is rebooting. Gosh, that would be so cute! I absolutely love your artwork, by the way! It is so adorable!

Can't answer yet. He does NOT have memories, but he will remember ONE thing...

@daniellemarvel4 Hi, fist off I love your work and can't wait to see what you do next! I was wondering who is more protective of MK when it comes to Red Son? Whether that would be Pigsy, Wukong, Macaque, or even Tang (mabye Mei but I don't think she could stay serious long enough). Also, can we see what Sandy's doing?

mmmmmm---- I think Wukong. Freenoodle is pretty chill with the DBK family after everything that happened. Mac is also quite alright since he was always in good relationship with them. I would say Wukong would just want to be sure his kid doesn't get hurt by the fire in any way

Anonimo I've been squealing, grinning, and kicking my feet going through the Shadowpeach Bio parents AU. Baby MK has been SO CUTE and fun. I wonder if he's going to remember or be embarrassed about it. Another part of me hopes that river is still in play so Sun & Mac can fall in and suddenly MK and everyone has 2 chaotic super-powered Baby Monkeys to take care off 😭 😭 😭

Anonimo ha chiesto: I almost cried they are sooo cute. I hope that we get more sweet family content. Loving the comic thanks for making it 💕💕💕💕

Anonimo ha chiesto: I don’t want the cure to work ! Or could it be like that: MK is such a powerful being that the Dosis Pif gave them, just wasn’t strong enough. Instead it only aged MK up a bit so now he is a small kid or a teenager but not a grown ass money man again. I am not ready to leave the monkey family stuff behind 🥺

unfortunately the river has been close untile further notice. (dw this wont be the end)

@cutvdo ha chiesto: Mei bribing Red Son with baby MK pictures

@luciferapollyon ha chiesto: I hope Mei, Red Son, Macaque and Wukong all got pics before they turned MK back

Anonimo ha chiesto: DHJSJDJDH LIL BABY BEAN! I wonder if Wukong and Macaque took any pics of lil MK while he was smol baby? She would keep them and use them as blackmail. (affectionately)

Anonimo ha chiesto: Your shadowpeach bio parent au is just perfect!! Thankyou for feeding the fandom with the nectar of the gods!!! Especially the one where mac slips into the bed after wukong waits all night. Like Mac would wake up in the morning and see him fast asleep and think of Peng asking 'is there anything Wukong could do that would break his hold over you?' and just seeing him at his most vulnerable right now he's like 'no, not when he always gives me a reason to stay.'

MY HEART

@queen-of-purple-roses Wait if MK is experiencing Macaque’s memories then does that mean that Macaque can experience MK’s? Are they able to dive into each other’s minds?

So the thing is that MK is hearing the past from both POVs. Macaque by definition can hear ANYTHING so yeah he could definitely experience MKs memories. But the thing is-does he want to? I headcanon that his future-present-past hearing abilities are something he only used a couple of times, and because what he heard from them was so traumatic, he decided to NOT use them again (like wukong laser eyes)

@sillygothpartykid ha chiesto: I know everyone is asking you to make the gay monkeys kiss but I actually like how you are developing their relationship. You letting them work through their problems and feeling first giving us that sweet, sweet slow burn! Love your art btw!❤️❤️❤️

awwww ty!!!! yes pls slow burn for life.

@kraytherandomchick ha chiesto: Hey, love your ShadowPeach AU! (Started rereading it after crying from the season 5 finale hehe :'D) But there's always something that's kinda stuck in my head, if MK's no longer immortal, would Macaque or Wukong get sad at the thought of getting older and forced keep going without him?

So- *sigh* technically, we don't really know MK immortality status. it's a grey area for now. Because on one side, he's a stone monkey, who, by nature like Wukong, can perfectly age and grow like a normal monkey. On the other hand, he's technically died already, and by the time he was created by Nuwa, both his biological fathers were already immortal (Wukong bc yes, Macaque because he's a demon, and he can die from wounds and illness, but can't age)

So to answer: we don't know yet what's with him. we will see (I promise that)

@lmk4ever ha chiesto: I LOVE THE SHADOW PEACH BIO PARENT AU SO MUCH!! Mk boi is so lucky to have a artist like you and fathers like them. I want to ask, will shadowpeach ever get into a fight out of anger in front of Mk? Or did they moved on from that phase?

If they will fight it will be more of like- the 2 dads grounding MK. If they need to fight they learned that they need to go on another mountain to do it so they don't bother their child

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will we get a traffic light trio ship?

Probably not, but I'm all for dragonfruit/spicynoodle and having MK and Mei NOT dating each other at the same time.

@yuk1yun ha chiesto: If lmk season 6 isn't like your au, then I don't want to watch it

BRUH THAT'S THE NICEST THING I HEARD ALL WEEK

@conniescialla ha chiesto: HIIII!! ok scusa l'italiano ma letteralmente trovare artisti italiani ispira sempre quel momento patriottico alla YES ONE OF US MUAHHAHAH Scherzi a parte, il comic Shadowpeach bio parents Au è meraviglioso, si approva soprattutto l'hurt/comfort ;p

Tanti kudos!!<3

AAAAHHH CHE BELLO UN ALTR* ITALIAN*!!!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: I really wanna see jelous wukong!!!!!! I dunno maybe some random demon trying to flirt with emo monkie or something and wukong is like oh hell no!! He is mine!! I think it would be so cute

he would become incredibly possessive and start hissing and growling like a tiger. NOBODY TOUCHES MY SOFT PILLOW

Anonimo ha chiesto: I think it would be so cute if Wukong would take care of sick Macaque! It would show Macaque that Wukong changed and is no longer like he was before. I wonder if Macaque got sick, would MK help or would Macaque be too stubborn to let anyone know.

I know everyone says Wukong is this great sage with incredible abilities in every field (and he is) but I would like to imagine that, since he needs to do these thing for Macaque specifically, he's so stressed over the fact he needs to do them perfectly that he fucks up lmao.

Like, he would try his best to take care of him and almost burn the kitchen in the meantime, while Macaque was only hoping the two of them could just stay more in bed cuddling each other

Anonimo ha chiesto: im just imagining Mac getting anxious becouse he cannot find baby MK and Wukong is there to calm him down

@shadowpeachera ha chiesto: Heyy I absolutely love your shadowpeach bio au, the drawings, the text its perfect! Did Mk every run off or get into trouble now that he’s a cub or even play games with Wukong and Macaque like hide and seek? That would be really cute. I can imagine them playing hide and seek while Mk discovers he can make shadow portals, meanwhile his parents are stressing and scared as they have no idea where he is.

i think both of them would freak out.

WAIT I HAVE THE PIC I HAVE THE PIC

I'VE BEEN SAVING THIS PIC SINCE 2017

@nyx-daughterofchaos98 ha chiesto: Hi! For LMK, I watched a nature documentary on Monkeys the other day and a lot of monkeys correct each others behavior by doing something called “Disciplinary Nips” or “Discipline Bites” (This isn’t a sexual ask I promise) I think it would be absolutely hilarious, if Macaque and Wukong are napping together, and for whatever reason, Wukong keeps moving around, unable to get comfortable. And in his sleep-riddled state, Macaque gets annoyed and bites him. 🤣 Like; I’M TRYING TO SLEEP! KNOCK IT OFF! 🤣🤣🤣 And when Wukong does stop moving, Macaque does actually fall asleep. Even better is if Macaque wakes up and has absolutely No Idea he bit Wukong because he was half asleep at the time. Or he thinks it was a dream and ensue the shenanigans when he realizes it wasn’t.

OMG THAT'S SO CUTE AND SILLY AAHHHH!!! EVEN BETTER: what if they do this without noticing BEFORE they are like-actually romantically back together, and someone sees the mark bites AND THEY START TO ASSUME CERTAIN THINGS BRUH.

@tabs-tabi-tabby  Can Macaque help with MK’s clones? Or would that be Wukong’s area?

MK can't make the same clones macaque has. He can control a little bit his own shadow, and use that as a clone. so as long as it's his own shadow, it's more Mac area, if it's his own hair clone then it's Wukong's

@startdustmonkie ha chiesto: Does Mk and or Wukong know about Savage and Rumble? (If so how did they find out about them?) — (also: do Savage and Rumble see Mama macaque as a parent?)

@mushrum-soup ha chiesto: Hi just wanted to say I absolutely adore your shadow peach au it's literally the highlight of my week 💖I was wondering tho are rumble and savage just shadow clones in your au or similar to their Lego counterparts :O?

Yes they know about them. No they aren't his kids let's say. My own personal headcanon for the Au (or the show in general) is that they are both Macaque shadow, like- clones with a little bit of personality just like MK clones represent specific parts of his personality. He has 2 of them because he lived 2 lives, one before and one after he was brought back to life.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Just read the latest Shadowpeach bio kid comic, and i cant help but giggle a bit at how MK’s chirp woke Wukong and Macaque up lmao just the “and they snoozing- OH SHIT BABY CHIRPING WHATS WRONG-“

HE IS BABYYYY

@hellobur ha chiesto: Did you base when mk was reaching fr macaque after he was walking away because mk called him mama after this or was it a funny coincidence (mk also doe the pose but I can't find it lol)

Also I absolutely love this story and your art your work is incredible! ^^

Omg LMAO NO I DIDN’T BUT NOW IT’S 100% MORE FUNNY

@dragonaboni-blog ha chiesto: Hi! First off, I love your art and your Shadowpeach AU, it's the reason I'm reactivating my own Tumblr account lol One of my favorite tropes in this story is "A gets sick and B takes care of him" so I'm wondering… What would that trope be like in the AU? What would the monkey trio be like when they got sick? Do any of them sleep through their illness? Or are any of them extremely dramatic like "These will be my last words…"? CoughcoughWUKONGCoughcough

Aaahh I’ve seen a lot of asks asking this one but honestly I don t know If I’ll ever draw that trope. Maybe bc Wukong should technically have canonically too much knowledge about general illness to be worried about normal daily life illness. If it was something more life-threating. Maybe yes, but I still have to cook.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Counterpoint: wukong can't handle spicy foods because he has no impulse control and his monkee brain wants him to only eat fruit and peaches

Ouch. Yes that seems about accurate for him lmao

Anonimo ha chiesto: About the lmk bio au.... we have seen that MK can manipulate certain parts of his body in the 72 transformations... so..... Wukong and Macaque could technically have children.

I’ll be 100% honest I have no idea if stone monkeys are…fertile?

Anonimo Hey there! I am in love with your art. LMK is something that came into my life recently and damn I love it so much! Love your AU, and I can't wait to see more of it. Funnily, since the baby MK incident I imagine this later on becoming a somewhat spark of many funny arguments later on. What I mean is I see baby MK has a favorite parent (*cough-cough* MacCRACK *cough-cough*) [Sorry with the name joke, couldn't help myself]. XD. And I imagine Wukong be a bit jealous at times and go 'Anything you can do I can do better XD' Also see lovely Redson have a thing for MK, and then I imagine him ask his parents about advice on pursuing his crush. "So who is the lucky girl?" "Well, you already know him-" *Spits out water* "You got yourself a husband?" "What, no I haven't yet-!"

Aww I don't think MK would have a favourite but definitely there are times where he wants one parent more than the other (play time with Wukong, nap time with Mamacaque)

Anonimo ha chiesto: Yknow what they say… like father like son! In the sense that they’re all gay /j

Oh yeah absolutely it's genetic/j

@wolfasketch ha chiesto: Mac being on the sunny side and Wuwu being in the shadows

I know I'm looking into it too much but- AHHH!!!

That was unintentional but HOLY SIT U R RIGHT

Anonimo ha chiesto: Poor Red Boy never got to see baby MK! Imagine him just staring at the adorableness that is baby MK and being like 'I hope our future children look just like you OH MY GODS YOU'RE ADORABLE'. Baby MK: :3

Their child will literally be Kai from Ninjago so I guess THEY ARE RIGHT HE WILL BE

Anonimo ha chiesto: And then MK will wake up back to normal, confused, but proud that he managed to get them even closer?

100% yes

@drowning-in-webnovel-chapters ha chiesto: I can't imagine how the monkey dads are gonna try to go back to sleep after that, oof. Also Wukong definitely knows all that from when he used to help Macaque through visions, right?

Yup! He does indeed!

Anonimo ha chiesto: I’m guessing MK is getting a mini version of Macaque’s “can hear the past/present/future” thingy, did he managed to hear it accidentally or was he trying to learn more about his powers/Shadowpeach’s past ?

Yes, he was just wondering since last time that he found the sleeping cuddling with him, what exactly happened for them to rift away. Guess curiosity killed the cat

@aurabooboo ha chiesto: So. I'm rewatching season 5, right? I noticed that they almost had a yelling match with MK right in the middle. Would Wukong apologize to him for that?

These 3 have so much to talk about… i wont draw everything, but they definitely apologised offscreen.

@elianaroselight ha chiesto: It is quite telling how Wukong immediately knew what to do to help calm MK, but also, Macaque coming in with the perspective of having gone through it himself. The need for them to remain close by and wait until Mk is asleep before trying to leave. This means Mac has been through exactly what he is telling them not to do and knows the pain, sorrow and trauma that comes from feeling abandoned like this. They may be facing their past hurting their own kid through proxy and try to help him fight against the trauma. Luckily they have good people to help when they themselves can't. *looks at Freenoodles*

Yup! Their response is exactly related to what they do to calm the other!

@thenerdycupcake ha chiesto: So, does MK’s gold vision combine with his hearing sometimes so that he sees some of what he’s hearing from the past?

Oooohhh i guess he does! So he can literally see and hear the past!

@frogsfandoms ha chiesto: Omg why can I see after MK wakes up he thinks that it isn’t the past he’s hearing and that it actually just happened. Rushing to see if Wukong and Macaque are hurt and or trying to stop them from fighting 😭😭😭

Oohhh our baby still doesn’t want to believe it actually happened :(

Anonimo ha chiesto: Adult MK: OH MY GOD A SPIDER *desperate scared monkey noises* Baby MK: what's this? A 5 starts meal? *Tries to chomp said spider* He's gonna be sooo disgusted when someone tells him he tried to eat one fkdkdlfmfl

Oh poor MK. He’ll be teased about this for the rest of his days.

@sailera ha chiesto: Hello I have question about you Shadowpeach bio dads au- How would Pigsy react that his only employee turned to a baby? And hadn’t answered his phone in few days? Also love your art!! And your ISAT comic got me again interested in playing Sky ✨

Mk only became a baby for like- 20 hours. Mei told him that he stayed at FFM because he was ‘tired after training’. As of now Pigsy didn!t found out

---------------

That's all for this week! Thank you a lot for all the asks!

[twomanyfandomshelp]

I think at one point during an intro we’re just going to hear Lizzie in the background questioning her life choices and why she married this man.

When, really, we all know that she’s just as, if not even crazier than her husband, she just happens to hide it a little better.

Joel tumblrinas, I reckon we should all start making random prediction for Joel's intros like a no-stakes betting pool

For example, a Joel wearing a horse head and a horse wearing a Joel head duke it out in sword fight club (don't talk about it.), meanwhile editor Joel commentates until eventually the Joel and the horse put their differences aside to kill editor Joel, swapping heads, then the Joel kills the horse anyway because he still hates horses and it's a happy ending

Pretty accurate I'd think

[antiquarianfics]

A Slip of the Tongue

a/n: how would y’all like an un-proofread one shot i wrote? ‘twas inspired by someone else’s story with a similar concept, but i lost it. :( anyhoo. i made you some content.

warnings: brief mention of death, otherwise none.

masterlist

—

“Me and Nina played on the swings today!” Your daughter, Ellie, tells you as you strap her into her car seat.

“Yeah? That so?” You ask. This is one of your favorite parts of your day; that is, listening to Ellie tell you about her day at school.

“Yeah! Nina is new. Her daddy got a new job and had to move them here. She speaks 2 languages!”

“Wow! That’s really cool, baby. What other language does she speak?”

“I think she said… Um. Something that started with an R.” Ellie scrunches her face up in consideration.

“Russian?” You ask, finishing buckling her in. You close the door and move around the car, getting in yourself.

“Yeah, I think,” Ellie replies.

“Did you know Bucky speaks Russian?” You ask her, sharing the tidbit about your boyfriend with your daughter.

Ellie loves Bucky, and he her. When Ellie’s father passed away, you truly never thought you would move on, and it killed you Ellie would grow up without a father. Then, you met Bucky, and he was wonderful. It was a complete meet-cute. You ran into him—literally—in a coffee shop 5 minutes away from Ellie’s school. You were in a rush, trying to get your coffee, your belongings, and your bearings to go pick up Ellie, and in your frantic fumbling, you crashed into a stranger who, rather than getting upset by being hit and drenched in a late, simply steadied you by the arms and asked if you were alright.

Bucky insisted on buying you a new coffee because “It’s my fault for being on your way, Doll. Besides, my ma’d kill me if she knew I passed up an opportunity to ask a pretty woman on a date.”

The admission took you by surprise, and Bucky later revealed it took him by surprise, too. Something about you, he said, brought out his old 40s confidence. He didn’t worry about scaring you like he would anyone else. In fact, he said, in that moment, he wasn’t the Winter Soldier, and he never was. He was just Bucky.

That day, though, you’d declined, telling him you had to pick your daughter up from school, but you quickly amended your statement to let him know you were at that very coffee shop everyday for an hour before you picked up Ellie. “So,” you had said, “if my being a single mom doesn’t scare you, you can buy me that make-up latte another time.” And, by god, Bucky Barnes was at that coffee shop then next day, waiting with your latte.

Fast forward to today, and Bucky practically lives with you and Ellie. He still has his apartment, but he spends 6 out of 7 days at your house. It’s so natural, though, you wish he’d just ditch the apartment and make it official. After all, he is an excellent roommate. He does the dishes, cleans up after himself, doesn’t hog the blankets, and—most importantly—he is fantastic with Ellie. He plays with her, he reads her bedtime stories, he cuts her food for her, and so much more. He is everything to you and Ellie.

So, when you tell Ellie that Bucky also speaks more than one language, you can’t help but grin when she rambles the rest of the car ride home about how she is going to ask him about that language he speaks—what language does Bucky speak again, Mama?—and then she is going to learn it too so she can show Nina.

Ellie’s rambling lasts all the way home, into the house, and into the living room where she drops her backpack on the ground and runs to Bucky, jumping in his lap with no warning. Bucky grunts at the impact, but he smiles fondly at the young girl.

“Hey, El,” he greets. “How was school?”

“Bucky, I made a new friend! She’s so cool. Did you know she speaks 2 languages! That’s really cool. I can only speak 1 language. Her daddy got a new job, so they came here. She’s my new best friend. I don’t remember what language she speaks, though.”

Ellie speaks a million miles a minute as she tries to fill Bucky in on her day. Bucky makes eye contact with you over her head and you merely smile and shrug, making Bucky grin.

“Russian,” you offer, as you move to sink down onto the couch next to your boyfriend and your daughter.

“Russian!” Ellie exclaims, nodding her head excitedly. “Mama said you speak Russian, Bucky. Do you speak Russian?”

“I do,” Bucky confirms, laughing at the amazed look that crosses Ellie’s face.

“Say something! Say something!” She begs.

“Yeah, Bucky, say something in Russian!” You join in on Ellie’s begging with a laugh.

“Вы двое знали, что я люблю вас? Мои красивые, глупые девочки,” Bucky says, chuckling to himself as he watches Ellie’s amazed face.

“Wow,” she says, eyes transfixed on Bucky.

You laugh. “Yeah, wow,” you confirm, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Bucky’s cheek before standing to go to the kitchen.

You make it just across the room when you stop dead in your tracks, turning to make eye contact with Bucky and attempt to gauge his reaction to Ellie’s words.

“I can’t wait to tell Nina tomorrow that my daddy speaks Russian, too,” Ellie says, lying her head on Bucky’s chest.

You and Bucky make eye contact across the room, and you hold a silent conversation.

Bucky’s eyes are widened in shock, but he raises an eyebrow at you as if to ask, “Did she just call me her daddy?”

You shrug, mouth slightly agape. Ellie has never called Bucky her daddy before, but it doesn’t surprise you. Bucky is always around, and he acts like a father figure regardless of your relationship with him. So, you say nothing, just shrug your shoulders and hope Bucky gets the message:

“I don’t know, but I’ll tell her not to if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Bucky shakes his head to let you know he doesn’t mind. Really likes it even.

Finally he speaks, “Yeah, tell her your daddy speaks Russian. I’ll even teach you some if you want.”

Ellie shoots up in Bucky’s lap, grabbing his face between her hands, and seriously begging him to follow through with his promise immediately.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She exclaims. “What did you say a minute ago?” She asks, assigning her first Russian lesson.

“Вы двое знали, что я люблю вас? Мои красивые, глупые девочки. It means, “Did you two know I love you? My beautiful, silly girls.”

[moonchild9350]

Spell for Love

Summary: You were given a familiar, Seungmin, long ago to help guide you in your practice as a witch. Seungmin is your everything, both of you being destined to fall for each other. However, fate has other plans as there's chaos when you both break the rules with your love.

Pairing: Familiar Seungmin x Witch gn reader

Genre: fantasy au, thriller, fluff, angst, smut- 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: witchcraft (duh), violence, mention of chronic illness, mention of blood, mention of death, p in v penetration, creampie (dont), multiple rounds, they're in love your honor lol

Notes: Seungmin would make a good familiar hehe. Anyhoo spooktober continues with week 3 and I hope you enjoy this next installment!

If you enjoyed, please consider a like, comment, and reblog as it keeps me motivated ♡

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

“Love is a strange dark magic, where death may only make it stronger, the softest kiss in the wrong direction can stew it away forever.”-Atticus

You have known Seungmin since you were a child, a little witch under the care of your mother and aunts. He was your familiar, a spirit sent to guide you throughout your life as a witch.

He was assigned to you at the measly age of six, at your coming of age as a witch. You remember the day, how it was filled with ceremonies and rituals, sanctifying you as a witch. Both of you received matching signets, a raven, branded onto your skin to show you were bound to each other for eternity.

At first you were a little weary of the boy, his hair always disheveled, his clothes a mess. He was also quiet, taking a while to break out of his shell, while you were full of energy, often bouncing around him talking nonstop.

Seungmin often took refuge in his familiar form, a shaggy black dog, when you were younger which seemed to be more comfortable for him. Despite this, he always was there to guide you and ensure you were on the proper track in your studies.

As you grew, he became your best friend and confidant. If you were in one spot, he wasn’t too far behind. If you got into yet another fight with the other witches at school, he would be the one to break up the fight and then later proceed to comfort you. Seungmin became your foundation through the rockiest points in your life.

However, that was years ago. Now you both were not so little and living in a small town. You had a little cottage in the woods, the one with flowers in the windows and lining the walkway to the door. Your prized garden was out back, filled with flowers and herbs you used for your potions. Smoke billows from the chimney into the night air, the fire casting a warm glow.

If anyone looked through the window, they’d catch a glimpse of a cozy scene, none the wiser to who lived at the little cottage. You chose to stay a little ways from town, as not everyone accepted you and what you were. They’d cast you looks and steer clear of you when passing you in town.

The townsfolk warned their children to never go to the cottage in the woods, lest they want to become the victim of the witches spell. It was all hodgepodge, however, as you and Seungmin were the most down to earth people, staying to yourselves and nice to everyone you met.

---

Today was an important day, one you had been looking forward to. You were summoned for a job, to help cure a sick child within the town. You often offered your services of healing, wanting to help others instead of staying cooped up in your cottage.

However, it has been months since your last summons, as the townsfolk did not want to believe in such "witchcraft." Therefore, when a desperate mother showed up at your door step, pleading for you to help her daughter, you gladly accepted the mother's plea.

So here you were, sliding a dress over your legs, pulling it up around your body, the material fitting perfectly along your slender frame. Seungmin watched from his chair in the corner, his eyes lingering on your curves as you fiddled with the sleeves. He loved your body, slender but plush in all the right places, perfect for his arms to wrap around.

Seungmin loved everything about you. He has ever since he first met you when he was appointed your familiar. He would do just about anything for you, and he means anything. Right about now, that includes fastening the buttons on the back of your dress.

“Thanks Min,” you said with a warm smile, watching as Seungmin fastened your dress, feeling the brush of his fingers through the fabric, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

Seungmin smiled, his lip curling up at your praise. Your grin grew wider as you smoothed your dress down. You turned to face Seungmin, as he stood in front of you, his eyes looking into yours expectedly. You placed your hands on either side of his face and squished his cheeks playfully, a soft whine falling from his mouth in protest. You giggled at the noise, amused at his annoyance at the gesture.

You both stood there for who knows how long, staring into each other’s eyes, the love you have for each other radiating within the small room.

Yes, you love Seungmin. You have for years. He’d do anything for you, he cares for you, more than you can say for most people. You wondered if he loves you back, loves you unconditionally just like you do for him?

You smile one last time, before dropping your arms and walking away.

“Let’s go Min,” you said, grabbing your pouch with the potion that would heal the child.

You both left the cottage and made your way towards town to Marion's house. Marion was the name of the child you were summoned to heal. She had an illness that has been plaguing her for years and wouldn’t go away. The town’s doctors did not know what caused her illness, every form of treatment failing. Over the last fortnight, it has been getting worse, as she’s not even able to get out of bed.

Seungmin watched as you clutched your pouch closer to your body as you hurried down the path. He could tell you were eager, as it’s been a while since you’ve been summoned. He helped you prepare the perfect potion for Marion, one that will heal her if her parent’s followed the proper regimen.

“We need to add Reishi, Comfrey, sage for healing, and a little Hops for sedation,” Seungmin remembered you saying, handing you each ingredient when you asked for them. The aroma wasn’t exactly pleasant, but little work that you both do is so. “This will be perfect for the girl, should heal her in no time!” Seungmin sure hoped so for your sake.

It wasn't long until the town came into view, the buildings looming in the distance as the sun was setting, tucking itself in to rest. The moon was peaking out, slowly showing itself as it's time neared with each passing minute.

You could see people hurrying back home or the local pub for a bite to eat as their day was coming to an end. Seungmin walked closer to you, placing his arm on your back protectively, as he guided you through town.

There was something in the air, an electricity that seemed to dance through the humid air and dance across the skin, causing the hair on his arm to raise. The air felt thick, almost making it difficult to breathe. Seungmin was worried, his eyes darting this way and that, watching the many faces passing by as you got closer to little Marion’s house.

“It’s ok Min. We’ll complete the job and be back home before you know it,” you said, trying to soothe your familiar.

You could tell he was on edge as he ushered you through town. If he was in his familiar form, you're sure the fur on his back would be bristled, his ears perked up for any abnormal sounds.

He had reason to be on edge you thought as you felt it too, something looming around you, ready to pounce in the spur of the moment. You needed this job to go well, not only for Marion's sake but also because were running out of funds, your money jar just about empty back at the cottage.

Arriving at your destination, you both stopped in your tracks, staring at the door. You squeezed Seungmin’s hand in yours before knocking, your knuckles tapping the wood three times. You didn’t have to wait long as Marion’s mother opened the door not a moment later, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She regarded you with slight uncertainty, before stepping back and ushering you in.

You stepped over the threshold, following her silently, through the kitchen, the living area, and to a door. She looked at you once more before turning the knob and opening the door.

You were slightly taken aback, as sweltering heat hit you in the face, the room baking in the summer heat. The air was stale, the smell of yesterdays food and antiseptic permeating the room. The windows were closed and bolted tight, allowing no airflow into the room, other than from the door you stood at now.

You hesitated to walk in, your eyes wide in shock.

“We are at wits end y/n,” Marion’s mother exclaimed, “please help us!”

You regarded the woman in front of you, taking in her pleading, bloodshot eyes. You could tell she was suffering, the responsibility of caring for a sick child taking its tole. You nodded and looked at Seungmin, before making your way to Marion’s bed.

You sat your pouch down and rustled through it, looking for the potion that you and Seungmin had prepared the night before. You hand brushed against something smooth and small before you wrapped your fingers around it, pulling out a vial, the amber liquid within sloshing against the side. Smiling, you stood up and walked closer to Marion.

Looking at the girl, you could tell she was gravely ill, most likely on death’s door. You brushed your hand through her wispy hair, gently singing a soothing song. Marion opened her eyes, the sunken in orbs finding your face. You smiled and uncorked the vial, bringing it to her lips.

You encouraged her to drink with promises of healing, tipping the vial slowly into her mouth. Marion gulped it down as best as she could, her eyes never leaving yours. Once she was done, you discarded the vial and smiled before turning to face her mother.

“She should start to feel better within the week,” you said.

“Thank you! Thank you!” The mother cried, tears streaming down her face at the hope of her child finally being healed.

You nodded and reached out your hand, as the lady placed two silver coins into your palms. You thanked her and made to leave, Seungmin following close behind. You walked with purpose, the promise of a nice dinner for once on your mind, the sound of the two coins clinking together in your pouch.

“We can have anything for dinner tonight Min!” You exclaimed, grabbing his hand. “Let’s stop here at this pub.”

Seungmin agreed, excited at the prospect of eating more than a few potatoes. He followed you into the crowded pub, his eyes roaming over the people gathered there for dinner. He sniffed the air, the aroma of the pub's house stew permeating the air, causing him to salivate and his stomach to growl.

You came across a table in the corner that seemed good as any and so you both sat down, settling in on the old, wooden chairs. Seungmin ordered two bowls of the stew, smiling at the waitress as she placed two mugs of mead in front of you. You sighed in contentment as the golden liquid slid down your throat, settling in your belly, causing you to feel warm from the inside out.

You didn’t have to wait long for your food to arrive, as two piping hot bowls filled with meat and vegetables was placed in front of you. You grabbed your spoon and dug in, filling your belly with the warm stew. You both ate in silence, savoring the taste of the food and listening to the chatter of the other patrons, enjoying the cozy atmosphere.

You both were almost done eating when a guttural scream laced with anguish pierced the night air and traveled into the loud pub. Everyone quieted instantly at the sound, turning their heads to the door to see the source of the disturbance. The door swung open, the wood slamming against the wall, as a woman came running in, the skirt of her dress billowing behind her.

“You killed her!” She screamed over and over, tears streaming down her face as she pointed an accusing finger your way.

You recognized Marion’s mother, your heart dropping at the sight of her. What did she mean that you killed her? You almost fell backwards as she rushed at you, her arms outstretched as if to strangle you, fury mixed with despair plastered on her face.

“You killed her, you…you witch!” She screamed as she tried to claw at your face.

You tried to protect your face from her hands but shrieked as her hands eventually made contact, her sharp nails dragging down your cheek, drawing blood. Seungmin quickly grabbed your arm, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you up from your chair.

"We need to run, come on y/n!" Seungmin said, a sense of urgency in his voice.

You agreed, and started to run behind him, your free hand on your cheek trying to stop the bleeding from your wound. You both made it to the door in no time. Seungmin pushed passed the townsfolk who were trying to block your way to escape, flinging the door open causing the people to scatter.

You both ran down the path, causing dirt to fly everywhere, the dust coating the bottom of your dress. Dodging the people on the path proved easy as they hurried to get out of the way, their eyes widened as you two ran past.

You didn’t slow down, following behind Seungmin as he dragged you along. You were breathing heavy, as your lungs tried to expand with the amount of exertion you were placing on your body. The edge of town was in sight, the expanse of trees taking shape signaling that you were almost home. You didn’t stop running, not even when you arrived at your door.

Seungmin quickly unlocked the door and ushered you in, giving a quick glance down the path before closing the door quickly behind you and sliding the deadbolt in place, effectively locking it.

You sunk to the floor, your body falling into a heap, your hands trembling as you brought them to your face. You wondered where you went wrong, running over the steps of brewing the potion the night before. You went through each step, one by one, tears streaming down your face, but not able to think of one way you could have gone wrong.

You were shaken out of your thoughts by the feel of Seungmin’s warm hands on yours, as he carefully brought them away from your face to grasp them in his.

“Don’t cry, y/n,” he said, pain reflected in his eyes at your distress. “You didn’t do this. That child was close to death by the time we got there.”

You shook your head at his words, trying to believe in them. You looked down at your hands intertwined, watching as his fingers rubbed soothing circles over your knuckles. You were happy that Seungmin was here with you and comforting you.

Seungmin watched your face, pain in his heart as he watched the tears fall from your eyes, painting your beautiful face. His eyes wandered to the scratches on your cheek, blemishing the flesh that is usually flushed with red. He held your hands tighter in his, not wanting to let them go. He felt his heart swell, his love for you ever growing. He had to let you know just how much he cares for you, fearing that your time together is shorter than he would like.

“Y/n,” Seungmin whispered before leaning towards you, his gaze holding yours.

You did not move, frozen in place as you watched Seungmin lean closer and closer to you. You took in his shaggy hair, the tips of the strands lightly touching his eyelashes, almost obscuring his eyes. You gazed into the orbs which were focused on you, as they flicked from your eyes, down to your lips, and back to your eyes again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening, in all your grief from tonight’s events. Time seemed to stop as he hovered right in front of you, his warm breath gently tickling your face. Your breath caught as you felt his soft lips press against yours, the flesh melting into each other with each passing moment. The kiss was wet as your tears continued to stream down your face.

It was suddenly all a flurry of movement as you found yourself on the couch, Seungmin hovering over you as he continued to hurriedly kiss you. It was a moment of passion, your tongue tangling with his, as his hands grasped at your dress, hiking the fabric up and over your waist.

You spread your legs more, so he could slot himself more comfortably between them. There was a flurry of more fabric rustling, as Seungmin tried to remove his pants, his leaking cock springing free from its confines.

You gasped out, as he pushed into you, his cock stretching your little hole, causing you to tremble from both the pleasure and pain. Seungmin did not wait for you to accommodate to the stretch as he began to thrust his hips hard and fast into yours, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He eyes raked over your face, taking in how your eyes were wide and mouth parted as he coaxed out little “oh, oh, ohs.”

He felt like he was on cloud nine, finally being able to have you, to have his cock buried deep within the woman he has always loved. Seungmin shuddered as he felt you clench around him, your pussy sucking him in, keeping him within the expanse of your warm walls.

You clutched onto his arms, bringing him closer to you to attach his lips to yours. With a few more strokes, you tipped over the edge, the warm feeling spreading throughout your core and body, your arousal dripping steadily, coating Seungmin's cock with your white, sticky arousal. You let out a low moan as you felt Seungmin's cock twitch within you, as he filled you up with his cum, marking you as his.

As you both came down from your highs, Seungmin whispered “I love you,” pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

You grinned and chuckled as you grasped his face repeating “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You both laid there for what felt like forever, clutched in each other's arms, Seungmin's now softened cock still buried within you. The shadows from the fire danced on the walls, as the sun finally laid to rest, the moon finally making it's full appearance.

You couldn't get enough of the man above you, feeling his cock once again harden within you. You longed to feel the beat of his heart against your chest as you pulled him closer, his head buried in the crook of your neck as he slowly rocked into you. Time passes slowly and sweetly, your breath mixing with his moans, as he brought you both closer to yet another orgasm. You came with a sigh and his name on your lips as Seungmin whimpered, releasing his load within you.

You continued to profess your love for each other, whispering sweet nothings in the silence of the cottage until that silence was broken by a series of loud bangs on your door.

You both startled at the noise, panic taking over at what it could mean...or worse who it could be. You thought the townspeople had finally made it to your cottage, ready to take you in. Seungmin quickly got up, fixing his pants as he made his way to the door.

You sat up and straightened your dress, not caring at the sticky substance leaking and coating your thighs, as terror filled you as you watched him walk to the door. As he threw it open, you noticed three people at the door, dressed in what seemed like an official uniform, donned in thick midnight blue coats, the signal of the council of witches pinned to the lapel.

“Seungmin the familiar?” One of the men asked, his tone gruff.

“Yes?” Seungmin responded.

“You are in contempt of the law of the ancients. We have to take you in. Please come with us peacefully."

You sat confused, not understanding what was occurring in front of you. Your mind was churning, trying to remember the law your mother made to instill in you, the content sounding familiar. Your thoughts were interrupted however, as you watched two of the men roughly place Seungmin’s hands behind his back, fastening them together with a spell.

You screamed as they roughly fastened his hands, as they kicked him in the abdomen over and over, pain littering Seungmin's face as he coughed and breathed in, trying to let the air in that was just knocked out.

You screamed ‘What are you doing’ as you tried to go to your familiar, best friend, and lover. The other man who was overseeing it all, stopped you in your tracks, grabbing your wrist before pushing you hard to where you fell backwards and onto the hard floor. You winced at the pain, watching in horror as they continued to beat Seungmin in front of you, torturing him without mercy. You felt useless, unable to help the man you love as you scooted up to watch the horror.

What hurt you the most was when they brought out a contraption, placing it on his skin directly on his signet, signaling that he was your familiar. Pressing a button, a silver laser jetted out, the flash of light striking Seungmin's skin. You watched as Seungmin cried out in pain, the area on his chest dripping blood immediately upon the touch of the laser.

You let out a blood curdling scream, as white, hot pain seared through your body. You felt more tears trickle down your face as you attempted to look at your wrist. The skin where your signet had been was red and raw at the rough removal. Your signet was gone. Seungmin was no longer your familiar.

You screamed in agony at the pain in your heart, but also the physical pain, your eyes never leaving Seungmin’s. You watched in horror as they dragged him away, his feet dragging through the dirt. He left a trail of blood in his wake, his chest still bleeding.

You watched as Seungmin tried to say something, his lips moving, trying to form syllables. At the last moment, you were able to finally make out ‘I love you.’ You let out another sob as they dragged the only man you’ve ever trusted, ever loved, ever given yourself completely to out of your cottage into the street beyond.

You knew nothing good was in store for Seungmin. Your heart somehow knew you would never see him again. You sat in tears, broken and in pain as you tried to wrap your mind around what had just occurred. You didn’t have long to ponder, as another mob was making its way to your door.

The townspeople had gathered, their pitch forks and torches in hand as they screamed insults at you. Your mind slowly shut down as you heard

‘Dirty witch!’ ‘Evil spawn!” ‘Murderer!’

You surrendered completely, broken and in pain, as two townspeople grabbed your arms and dragged you away, down the path, and into town. You surrendered as they threw you in a cell, locking the door and throwing away the key so you could await your judgement.

None of this mattered however. Seungmin was gone from your life and your fate didn’t seem so bright. You laid down on the hard ground, using your hands as a pillow as you once more thought about where you went wrong. Suddenly you remembered the teachings from your mother, her gentle voice reminding you of the law of ancients.

‘Familiars and Witches may never be. If ever a familiar were to break there bonds of servitude by falling in love with a witch and sealing said love, the punishment be removal of being said familiar and ultimately death.’

Your heart ached at the implications, knowing you both broke the law of the witches, sealing your love with your familiar. The tears stained your face, your wails loud as you mourned your actions. You tore at your hair, scratched your arms in anguish.

You knew fate was sealed however, when you felt an odd feeling, like your heart had been cut in two. A stillness passed over you as you sat in the corner of your cell. You felt numb, your only reason for living gone from this world.

You didn’t care as you heard footsteps down the hall. You didn’t care as a man stopped in front of your cell. You didn’t care as he unlocked the door and dragged you away. You didn’t care as you walked into the bright sunlight, the light hurting your eyes. You didn’t care as you noticed the platform in front of you.

You felt your love grow stronger however, as you looked to the sky, the stars numerous and bright. You knew Seungmin was there with you, standing by your side. You knew you would both be together eternally, either on this plane or elsewhere. You smiled, despite what was to come. You felt light on your feet, your soul peaceful and calm.

You’d see him soon.

And in the end that’s all that matters.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @seungfl0wer @velvetmoonlght

[dottieisdotting]

Baby Fever C.S.C

requested?: yes @urperfectcinnamonroll07 (go show her page some love too,it's rlly good)

pairing(s): Husband!Choi Seungcheol x afab!reader

genre: fluffy at the beginning and end, smut

warning(s): Bid dick!Cheol, PiV sex,unprotected sex (wrap before you tap,ladies and gents),degrading,praise,breeding,Oral (f!receiving),Seungcheol being a girl dad,

summary: your daughter's ask for another sibling and Seungcheol and you make their wish come true

word count: 3k (LORD-)

A/N: so I kinda went a little over ther board with this one but anyhoo enjoy this Cheo, brainstro of mine and make sure (if you'd like to) like,comment and reblog. make sure you eat,drink and rest,loves Yaha mwah xoxo

You and Seungcheol had the cutest family in the world as some would say. Two wonderful 4-year-old daughters Darae and Cheon-sa, with your looks but Seungcheol’s pout. They were so adorable and had you,Seungcheol and the rest of seventeen wrapped around their little fingers.

Luckily tonight was yours and Seungcheol’s date night so the girls were taken to his mothers. So you sat in Darae’s and Cheon-sa’s shared room packing and playing with them. You helped burp a doll and also put them to sleep . you hear someone clear their throat and look up from the floor,Seungcheol walks in,the girls running to hug him shouting and squealing. His gummy smile and dimples show as he bends down to pick both of them up. 

Their giggles fill the room and make your smile widen, standing up,brushing off your pants, you walk over to your husband and your children. Giving him a pat on the back as you leave the room,a small smirk on your lips. It was now his turn to be dragged to dolls play whilst you got the last of the girls’ things together for a couple nights to grandma’s house.

”Darae,Cheon-sa, c’mon time to go to grandma’s” like clockwork you hear the patter of their feet on the hardwood floors of the hallway running to you at the door. They had huge smiles on their faces,also carrying a stuffed animal each. They sit on the floor whilst they ‘help’ you put their shoes on. Darae says something unexpectedly ”Mama,daddy we want another sibling” your eyes nearly pop out of your head when she says that as they both clap their little hands in union. 

Seungcheol just stares down at you with that all knowing smirk as you nod ”another? Well you'll have to wish very hard at grandmas to see if it can come true” your voice was soft as you were so close to them. You kiss their cheeks and forehead before standing up and kissing Seungcheol goodbye as he goes to take the children to his mothers house.

It was now your time to get ready for your date. You shower and take about  one and a half hours doing everything right to the T. Leaving the bathroom with a robe and a towel,drying your hair, you head to your shared bedroom and sit at the vanity. You start to blow dry your hair,knowing it would take a while. After around 30 minutes it had fully dried and you now were deciding if you should curl or straighten your hair. With 10 minutes of debate to curl your hair and pin it back whilst you do skincare and makeup.

Seungcheol came back and walked into the bedroom seeing you in just a robe doing your makeup.  He walks behind you and tilts your head backwards and leans down pressing a short kiss to your lips. 

You continue on with your makeup, making it perfect whilst Seungcheol goes to get showered and dressed too. He walks into the bedroom, brown hair dripping and a towel wrapped lowly around his hips causing you to see his happy trail and V line.

You couldn't help but stare at your husband through the mirror of your vanity. ”stare much,sweets?” you lower your head,shit, you've been caught. But you couldn't help it, your husband was one fine motherfucker. 

You shake your head and bite your lip and continue to do your makeup as he gets dressed in black dress pants,black button up and a black tie (yk what i'm on about) but he walks out with his shirt undone whilst you were trying to zip your dress on. Your dress was stunning. It was red, ironically Cheol’s favourite colour, a slit ran up the left leg to mid thigh and it was tight, making your body show off all those perfect curves of yours. For shoes you wore your Christian Louboutin red bottoms. A gift from Seungcheol because he missed you during one of his tours with SVT

”Cheol,could you zip me up,baby?” Seungcheol nods and zips your dress up,leaving a small kiss on the back of your neck before he turns you around and wraps his arms around your waist and leans in,kissing your lips leaving you breathless. He pulls away and smirks after seeing your face. He buttons up his shirt as you watch. You spray your perfume and you were done,grabbing your little purse and you walk out of your shared room. 

Seungcheol joins you and wraps his arm around your waist,kissing the side of your neck lightly and leading you to the door ”lets go,yeah. We’ve got a reservation at 8, sweets” he leads you to his car and opens the passenger side door for you, you get in and he closes the door before walking around to the drivers side. God, he looked very hot right now. 

He gets in and buckles up before turning on the engine and reversing from the drive and starts to drive to the restaurant. His hand stayed permanently on your thigh the drive there and when you got there he opened the passenger door and held your hand like the gentleman he is.

 The restaurant itself is quite elegant, the walls and furniture are all carved from dark mahogany wood with brass decorations and accents. The lighting is soft and warm, with several candles lit on each table. The smell of fresh food cooking comes from the kitchen, and the air is infused with the scent of lavender and rose petals. The staff is friendly and attentive, making sure to cater to each customer's needs. The food is delicious and prepared with great care, showcasing the best in local delicacies and culinary arts.

One of the waiters took you over to the table and Seungcheol ordered some wine,he wouldn't drink much since he was still driving home later. 10 minutes later the waiter comes back with two wine glasses and the wine of Seungcheol’s choice. She leaves the table with a smile as Seungcheol pours the wine into the glasses before picking his up and waiting for you to do the same. A soft clink of the glasses before each of them take a sip of it,bodies relaxing as this indicates they were definitely kid-free now

They order their meals and eat with little stories of their girls,and family. You also mention that Darae wanted another sibling subtly and he raises his eyebrow and smirks slightly,nodding to the subtle comment. You finish your food and dessert and after Seungcheol pays the bill and buys another bottle of wine for the house, you get to driving home.

At home, it was peaceful,for once it wasn't a mess of girls' toys everywhere. It was quiet too,no screaming,screeching and crying for once. You slip off your heels whilst Seungcheol walks to the kitchen,pouring some wine into 2 wine glasses he got from the cupboard. He sees you walk to the kitchen island next to him and he smiles,kissing the crown of your head softly. ”hi sweets” he smiles,showing his cute dimples. You couldn't help but smile ”Hi Cheol” you reach to take a glass of wine,bringing it to your lips and sipping on it before it goes back onto the kitchen island. 

Seungcheol grabs your hips,pulling you towards him. ”sweets? Dance with me please?” you nod as yours and Seungcheol’s wedding song plays softly through the speakers. You smile and think back to the wedding,the memory still so fresh in your mind as Seungcheol spins you carefully before kissing your lips tenderly.

You kiss back,your hands lace in his hair tugging ever so slightly, he lets out a low moan as you feel yourself becoming wetter with every move he makes. He pulls away,lips a little more red. ”fucking hell, c’mon sweets lets give them another,hm?” you knew it wasn't an actual question because he knew the answer already. You nod and lean in again,bringing his and your lips together into another kiss,this one longer,more passionate with a hint of need.

His hands wrap tightly around your waist pulling your body causing you to almost grind against him. You moan into the kiss as his tongue passes your lips. It swirls around yours as he occasionally sucked your tongue. You break the kiss for some air ”i want another” you say breathless,chest heaving ”give me another,Cheol please”  he nods and throws you over his shoulder,slapping your arse for good measure and walking to your shared room. 

You bite your lip as you get to the room,the door is kicked open and you are thrown on the bed, you look so helpless,so needy,all for Seungcheol. He turns you over,zipping your dress down and taking it off you and throwing it somewhere in the room. He leaves you bare only in laced underwear. 

Seungcheol kisses up your legs ghosting over your sex and continues his kisses up your body,slightly biting and sulking little marks everywhere.

He gets up from you and undoes his dress shirt, his muscles showing, it had you almost drooling. His happy trail makes him look hotter. 

He kneels on the floor,grabbing your legs and pulling your hips to the end of the bed. Your cunt level to his face, an obvious wet spot takes up the middle of your underwear. Seungcheol licks his lips, he wants you so badly. His fingers long and thick hook around your underwear, his mind telling Jim just to rip them,but he couldn't. If he ripped that pair, that would mean he had ripped at least 6 pairs of your underwear in the last couple months.

He was nice enough tonight since he had bought you the pair for the date after all. So finally he pulls down your underwear,throwing them over his broad shoulder. He blows hot air onto your clit making you shiver and whimper slightly. He smirks again,standing up. You whine at the loss,wanting him to eat you out.

He laughs softly at how needy you have become. He reaches over to grab a pillow  giving you a soft peck on the side of your face as he does so. He taps your hips twice signalling you to lift them so he could place a pillow so he could eat you out better. ”hips,sweets,lift em’ for me” so you listen and lift them,the soft pillow slides under and you get comfortable . ”Why aren't you a good girl? Keep listening and I'll fill you sweets , so deep, make sure you will carry my child again.” 

Another thing about Seungcheol is that he had mastered dirty talk to the T and it was perfect. The right amount of praise and degradation was mind-blowing. It got you off so well. He loved the way your body reacted to his voice,his touch. You didn't know but it made him all fuzzy brained, he truly loved you so so much and he was an acts of service guy so he'd fuck you any time anywhere. 

He kneels back down in between your legs, hooking them over his shoulders,the pillow giving you extra leverage so your sex is closer to his mouth. ”c'mon sweets, pull me to where you need me so badly. Oh baby you're dripping” you take your shaking hands and lace them in his brown hair as his dark eyes stare up at you. You tug on his hair,pushing his lips to your clit making you moan in relief. He sucks at your bundle of nerves making your legs clench around his head. Seungcheol had always said that he would die a happy man if it was in between your thighs,fucking you with his tongue and his fingers.

He continues to suck at your clit,occasionally nipping at it making your hips jump as he smirks against your pussy. You tug on his hair letting the moans tumble from your mouth with no shame, you didn't have to be quiet plus Seungcheol liked your moans and whimpers,it showed him how you liked it. His tongue enters your heat quickly,licking all your juices making him moan lowly in delight as you get louder,coil in your stomach tightening every lick. You keep tugging at his hair,pushing him further into your sex, his nose hitting your clit beautifully. You back arches off the bed,toes curling as you moan out a mantra of just Seungcheol, his name rolling off your tongue as the coil is ready to snap. ”g-gonna cum,fuck… please,Cheol”  he hums in approveal as the coil snaps and your orgasm wracks through your body. But that doesn't stop Seungcheol, he keeps going,suckking and licking your release as he helps bring you back down. He carefully removes your thighs from his head as he kisses them gently,the aftershocks of your orgasm still running through your veins.

He loved you like this. All spread out on the bed,fucked out from only one orgasm. His smug look sits on his face as he knew he was the only one that could make you like this. He leans down and catches your lips in a messy makeout. Your hands go to his pants,trying to undo them whilst staying in the kiss. You undo them and tug them down,leaving Cheol to handle the rest as you break the kiss to breathe.

You lay back further on the bed as he rids himself of his dress pants and boxers, his cock hard and red tipped leaking with pre-cum. You spread your legs, your arousal dripping onto the pillow below. ”aw,poor sweets, so needy. You wanna be filled don't you? Stuffed full till you're pregnant with my kid again,hm?” All you could do is nod and mewl his name. That stupid smirk on his face again as he tugs at himself before lining his cock to your entrance. He teases you by only entering the tip making you clench around him ”Cheol,please” you beg for him just to take you but he continues to tease by only fucking you with his tip. 

You sit up slightly and hook your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you as you leave small pecks around his neck and jawline. You roll your hips as he pushes in further bottoming out as his head falls into your neck. He leaves you,still, to get used to the feeling of his cock in you after some time you simply whisper ”move,cheol-ah” and he experimentally rolls his hips as your head falls back,exposing your tits and Seungcheol takes the opportunity to move his head,mouth sucking at your nipple making you lift your head in surprise as his thrusts continue. ”fuck! Gonna breed you so well, sweets. Gonna fill you up so much,nice and deep with my cum. Give you a kid, give you my kid”

His mouth got dirtier and dirtier and you couldn’t help but to respond to it ”fuck yes! Please! Give me another,w-want your kids cheol” his hand grabs your jaw and forces your head down,making you look at the bulge in your stomach from his cock,hitting your g-spot effortlessly. Your eyes were filled with tears as the second coil in your stomach tightened once more. Seungcheol speeds up, thrusts becoming a little sloppy as he nears his climax too. 

One particular hard and deep thrust has you seeing stars as you cum. Your body is exhausted as you lay down. Seungcheol keeps his thrusts going as your legs tremble, he grabs one of your legs and hooks it around his waist. All you could do was moan and shake. Not long after you feel Seungcheol come,spilling his release deep inside of you,filling you up. His hips continue to move,fucking all the cum back into you,not missing a single drop, not letting it go to waste.”there we go,keep it nice and deep for me sweets, do that for me” 

Seungcheol carefully slips out of you,you whine at the lost sensation. ”I know sweets, I know but we gotta clean you up. I'd love to stay inside you all night,but not tonight” he says that with a small pout as he toddles off to the bathroom, butt-ass naked as you couldn't help but stare. Admiring your husband’s ass and back muscles, also the tattoos that sit at the top of his neck. 

He comes back, coming over to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder. You squeal as he laughs carrying you over to the running bubble bath. He gently places you down on the floor,holding your waist as you steady yourself. You stare down at you like you're the only one in existence to him ”God, I'm so in love with you” Seungcheol leans down and kisses you gently before helping you into the bath,filled with bubbles of your favourite scent. 

”I love you too,Cheol. I swear on it. Till death do we part” you make space for him to get behind you in the bath as you relax onto his chest,interlocking your hands with his and resting them on your stomach. ”Maybe the girls will get a sibling after all” you say softly as the scent of the bubbles fill your nostrils and you almost fall asleep,being all exhausted due to the ‘session’ you and Seungcheol just had.

”I really do hope we have another little boy,but another girl wont be so bad. I've already got you,Darae,Cheon-sa and Kuma. i think and i pray to the universe that it will be a baby boy,hopefully,sweets”

A/N pt2: thank you to all those lovely people who have got my stories/imagines to over 200 likes, it's actually mental that it would happen but thank you. good night and good morning. I rlly hoped you enjoyed this piece of mine and more is incoming soon xoxo

[syneilesis]

[fic] if only for a moment

if only for a moment

Love and Deepspace | Rafayel (Qi Yu) x Main-Character!Reader | T | 3.6k words | ao3 link (with correct formatting)

Rafayel waits. And waits. And waits.

A/N: Another LaD fic!! This time it's Rafayel. Several elements of this fic are inspired by and loosely based on his story anecdotes and bond story, plus that Deep Sea card line backdrop. So more spoilers in this one, I'm afraid. I think you need to be aware of them in order to follow the flow of the fic. But if not, here's what you need to know: basically Rafayel accepts a visiting professorship at the University of Linkon to reunite with the MC/you. And the prose poetry interspersed are loosely situated in the Deep Sea card lineup setting (you can search in YouTube for the scenes. This one is a brief glimpse of the scene). That princess/knight(??) dynamic is yum yum.

If possible, please read the version on AO3. I formatted the prose poems there as if they're really prose poetry, so I'd appreciate it if you check that out. (Though there isn't too much difference between the formatting here and there, I did make the effort of coding a little 🥺)

Anyhoo, hope you enjoy, and I am sO STOKED FOR THE OFFICIAL RELEASE. rip my wallet 💸😭

JUST LOOK AT THIS MAN AND BELIEVE

There’s a type of berry in a distant land that produces a rare shade of ink that matches the color of your eyes. It takes a hundred of them to create the right hue and volume for the art that he wants to make. It comes to him in a dream: endless desert, then fireworks of verdant sparks that coalesce into stem, leaf, and, finally, fruit. Rafayel remembers that land, so much different from the iridescent blue of ocean underwater, and the acrid gold of the barren desert. His mouth filled with the succulent sweetness of the dream, the lingering sandpaper roughness of the berries on his fingers. He already knows the name of the artwork even before he’s begun—Waiting, Missing. The ache in his bones gaining form, an intangible thing taking flesh.

+

Under the ocean surface, time is muted, a deafening thickness that surrounds you with its ambiguity. On land, however, it is linear, and fast, and in a matter of blinks, Rafayel’s visiting professorship nearly wraps up.

He’s only glimpsed you once or twice. Thrice at most. The university is big, but not big enough to warrant a dearth of fateful encounters. The first time he saw you it was at a coffee shop: walking along with your friends outside, your voice mellifluous and festive wafting through the trellis of the café entrance. You were talking about him—well, about Lemuria to be specific, but these days any talk of Lemuria inevitably draws in his name.

He’s committed your schedule to memory, and yet it just seems impossible to capture a moment with you. Even just a brush of shoulders, or of sleeves—an asymptote of contact. Just navigating around your orbit, but never truly meeting.

What would it be like—finally talking to you? You in front of him, face to face? Rafayel imagines the ache of waiting fading into the background until it’s completely gone. He yearns for that feeling, the release of it. A conclusion—or maybe even a beginning.

+

i. take my hand, he told you under the glow of the lustrous moon, the only source of light that contoured the secretive valleys of his face. i want to show your highness something. there was a country, he said, beyond the undulating monochrome of the desert, blanketed by lush trees and shrubberies and flowers that buildings were made in betwixt and around them—a nation of trailing and winding architecture, a marriage of the natural and the manmade. you wanted to ask why he’d planned on taking you there, and the only answer you got was a curt turn of his head and the profile of a masked man layered by shadows and distance. it would have been nice, you thought, if the moon poured light upon his hooded gaze.

+

Eventually he begins to frequent the café. Twice a week at first—he doesn’t want to come off strong right away, of course—and then making his way up until he’s hanging out there more than his own studio. He schedules his visits around your classes, always during the ones when the probability of you dropping by the café is high and he can ‘coincidentally’ be around the same area. It’s gotten to a point that Thomas calls him out on it, and nags at him to focus more on his painting. The next exhibit is immediately after his visiting professorship after all.

“From where I’m standing,” Thomas says, “you’re not painting at all.”

Rafayel ignores him.

Five minutes later, he says, “Not painting is part of the painting process.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, but he leaves him to it.

At the café, Rafayel attracts curious looks. A few attempt to approach him, but he pretends not to see them. They linger around the periphery, like moths to flame.

And then something happens: the entrance door chimes, and you swan into the coffee shop, earphones and denim overall skirt, the kind of rosy-cheeked image Rafayel finds on teen magazines, wide-eyed and earnest. You fall in line and order when it’s your turn, and your eyes sweep across the packed café searching for a vacant seat until they finally land on him.

Rafayel’s heart stumbles.

Up close, the baby fat on your cheeks still gives you the appearance of being younger than you actually look. You turn a polite smile his way, and his heart stutters again—but this time it is taken as a warning.

“Hi,” you say, tentative. Any hint of recognition absent. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

+

ii. you're counting the steps of your inevitable parting. you're at the edge of the desert, far away from your home and its familiar scents, oriented towards a direction that promised a future sad memory, the gentle warmth of his hand, the downward denial of his gaze. this longing that grew out of your bones, aching during cold, aching during heat, aching when he looked at you with such tenderness he had to hide it through the sharp tug of your joined hands, the long strides that opened up a lonely distance. intimacy was dangerous, knowing was dangerous, the bowels of his heart like a solitary flower on a high peak. what would you do to such loneliness?

+

Memory isn't always an infallible thing. The human brain cannot hang on to every moment of your life, though Rafayel wishes it were so. But still—to think that you would forget him, and it hasn’t even been a century. You were like a phantom thief stealing his heart in the night—no recourse, no resolution.

To wait is to be in agony, the burn of yearning locked within the heart. Rafayel has been waiting for a long time, and the only memory scorched in his heart is fire, the blaze and its blinding, all-consuming want.

What would you do to such want?

+

You have a blurry childhood, Rafayel discovers. After the first Wanderer descended on Earth, the incident strummed your memories like a stringed instrument that tired of the same chord, over and over. It had bothered you at first—not being in control of your own memories—but eventually you had learned to live with it.

“Grandma and Caleb—my childhood friend—helped me through the process,” you tell him, stirring your iced mocha with its straw. “I owe them a lot.”

Eyes cast down, but still the melancholy shadows remain in your expression. Rafayel folds his arms on the table, and leans closer.

Around them only a few people occupy the coffee shop at this time. How fortunate for Rafayel to catch you during your break while every other student is trapped in class lectures.

“There’s no use in dwelling upon what's already happened. Even sharks have to give up when their prey escapes. When you remember, it will be all the more joyous, no?”

The smile you give him is crooked, disbelieving.

“If I remember.”

“You’ll remember.” Because there’s no other choice, for you and for him. Rafayel cannot bear being shelved in the history of your smile and happiness. Waiting can only be endurable if there’s an endpoint.

+

In his studio, Rafayel begins his next painting.

+

iii. the berries tasted sweet, with an edge of sourness that clung to the bottom of the tongue. it had the exact shade of your eyes, a detail that rafayel brought up the moment he plucked it from the shrub. raising it to align with your eyes, comparing them with his artist's meticulous gaze. maybe when this is all over, i'll go back here again to extract ink from these berries, and paint a portrait of your highness using these to color your eyes. he never showed you any of his paintings, merely mentioned them in passing, and you constructed a dream of him from the throwaway words that left his covered lips. i'm not used to sitting for so long, you reminded him, and he glanced at you, then at the berry between his fingers. my memory is enough, then handed you the fruit.

+

In the few weeks of meeting with you Rafayel forgets that his visiting professorship is ending soon and he has to give out his last lecture. Thomas had asked him what his topic would be. At that point Rafayel had no answer. But now he has.

“I’ve been hearing you talk about Lemuria every now and then with your friends.” He props his cheek on his hand, tilting his head slightly and giving you a charming smile. “Interested?”

You blink. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I’ve seen you a couple of times here, and I happened to hear your friends chat about my lecture. Your points were almost accurate, I’m in awe.”

“The visiting professor—that’s you?!”

Rafayel pauses, the slosh of his drink nearly spilling on his frozen hand.

“You didn’t know?”

Sheepish, you say, “Honestly, I didn’t make the connection. Is that why plenty of people have been glaring at me as of late?”

He releases a frustrated sigh, eyes rolling heavenward.

“In any case, my final lecture is on Friday next week. It’s titled “Memory and Meaning in Lemurian Art”. Why don’t you drop by and listen, and you can tell me what you think afterwards.”

You retrieve your bullet journal to check your schedule. It’s colorful, filled with stickers and doodles that Rafayel finds endearing. Then the excited moue on your face drops into a frown, and Rafayel can foresee the next words that will come out of your downturned lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say guiltily, “but I have a major test that day, and I need to get a high score in order to pass the course.”

Rafayel exhales, long and weary, but ultimately shrugs off the apology. “What a shame, but I forgive you. Just don’t fail your exam or else my magnanimity would be all for nothing.”

+

He calls Thomas that night.

“I’ll disappear for a while once the professorship is over.”

“Hey, wait, what do you me—”

“You’ll be happy to know that this is for my next painting.”

A beat. “Okay … but for how long?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Then he hangs up.

+

He’s trying, he really does. The lecture ends to a resounding applause, and it’s mechanical how he answers the questions posed by the audience. But he’s trying, he’s trying. There’s no specter of you in the sea of faces in the auditorium. You’re at the other end of the university compound, sweating your way through your exam. He genuinely hopes you’d pass, for your sake.

Thomas had booked his flight to another country, where he’ll traverse to a land that he’d visited many times in his dreams and had woken up with a filmy, sweet-sour tang at the roof of his mouth. He’ll leave the morning after the closing dinner party the faculty has prepared for him. There isn’t time to pack much, and no time to tell you goodbye.

Rafayel guesses that it’s only fair: how would you feel waiting for him at that café, the chair across you empty, only the sunlight pooling from the window as your companion?

+

iv. parting, somebody once said, is such a sweet sorrow. much like those berries in that ever-green nation, a lingering sourness remained underneath, the sting of it reminding you every now and then. he was already mourned for even before he left. tell me what it's like—the ocean. he was elusive, untouchable in his grief. you'd heard through whispers, the story of his migration, the drowning before the drying, the unwanted journey. grief brought him to you and grief would steal him away from you, you knew, down to the cells of your body and the hopelessness in your blood. —and yet. and yet you wanted to have a taste of it, anyway.

+

The ever-green land is no longer green, or lush, or alive. Time corroded it into memory, sepia-faded, wizened. Past. The berries he’s searching for don’t grow here anymore. Everything here is empty, barren, helplessly so.

Rafayel hasn’t accounted for such development, but he should have known. Disappointment stings at his chest, and bitterly he turns away and stays at the next town over. At a family-run restaurant situated near the outskirts, he looks over the wide windows, across the highway road, beyond the jagged horizon. The painting won’t be finished, then. Another tragedy, pressed flat next to the forgetting, to the waiting, and his home.

The chef personally serves him his order and, after a shuffle of hesitation, brings up a question.

“Young man, you came from the direction of the old country, yeah?”

Rafayel meets his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, why?”

“It’s been a while since we had someone visiting that place. There’s nothing in there anymore, it’s been that way for years. Why did you go there?”

Rafayel is reluctant to say, but at the guileless set of the older man’s face, he concedes.

“I was looking for berries. The ones native there. They produce a shade that I need for my painting.”

At the mention of the fruit, the chef’s expression lights up. “Oh! I see, I see. You’re in luck, son. We grow them here at the farm. Plenty of those for everyone. How about I give you some? It’s rare meeting someone who still remembers the old country, it’s almost fate. How many did you say you need?”

Fate. Just like the time of your first meeting, as if the universe had gifted you to him. Just like the time of your parting, of your forgetting, of his waiting. Fate as a connection from you to him, red and burning brightly.

He doesn’t want to seem eager, but he knows he’s failed from the way the chef toothily grins at him.

“A hundred or so.”

The chef falters at that, jerking slightly back. But he accepts it with a nod, an avuncular smile making its way across his kind, powdery features.

“That sure is a huge number, but I think we can work something out.”

+

His painting takes a month to complete, inclusive of the time spent making the ink from the acquired berries. Sometimes, Thomas watches him paint, quiet in the background. His stays usually don’t last—a quick flash that Rafayel nearly misses, or deliberately ignores. But during the final stages of the painting process, Thomas hands him the exhibit details.

“I’m just thankful you’re on time for this one.” He sighs, relieved, then leaves.

Alone, Rafayel creates. Brushstroke after careful brushstroke, each varying by pressure and angle. He lets each layer of paint dry before moving onto the next. The berry ink—the color of your eyes—the solely different element of this painting. Center, central. The focal point. The beating heart. The years and years of waiting and longing. The form and the flesh. Alive.

This, too, is an endpoint.

+

v. can i see your face, just this once? your hands grazed his mask like a ghost wanting to touch. rafayel stayed still beneath your desirous fingers, observing, waiting, his own fingers twitching towards his dagger. even in the parting he could not let go of this distance. hopeless, hopeless. your highness would get nothing out of seeing my face. he's wrong, his eyes never left your face, and he's wrong. he didn't stop you from your grasping of his mask, and him—finally—bare and beautiful yet a little sad. you're wrong, you said, tracing his slightly parted lips with a trembling finger, you're wrong. it is everything to me.

+

The gallery is packed. No surprise there. It’s almost boring, in a way. Waiting, Missing hangs at the farthest hall in the floor, special and intimate as it should be. Thomas knows him well; otherwise, Rafayel would have whined at him to hell and back just so he could be granted this demand that is in reality a mandate.

He’s hiding from the throngs of journalists and art critics alike and sequesters himself in a corner that has a clear view of the painting. Loosening his collar and tie, Rafayel breathes and closes his eyes, leans tiredly against the wall. A few more minutes, and he’ll slink out of the building, reputation be damned.

He melts into the shadows whenever somebody passes by. He has neither time nor energy interacting with people today. Watching them through half-mast eyes, Rafayel stays in his secret place and studies with weightless detachment the people looking at the painting.

He’s made a bet with himself about the opinions of his followers and admirers. Who thinks what and why. It makes for great entertainment. The last time, a fresh-faced critic praised Rafayel’s technique as “innovative and a soul-rending reflection of the prodigy’s character.” He had laughed and laughed for hours until he couldn’t breathe any longer.

Another walks by, and before Rafayel retreats further into the corner, he glimpses a familiar gait and a familiar face.

His heartbeat races. He’s never told you that he’s holding an exhibit today. After the professorship Rafayel failed to maintain communication with you, convincing himself that it’s for the best that he protect you from afar that day onwards. It didn’t help that he had to leave as well. At the same time, you never made an effort of reaching out, and Rafayel thought that it was back to square one again, that waiting, that yearning.

But here you are right now, elegantly dressed, like someone gliding out of a dream. Rafayel swallows, his hands shake. You do not have someone else with you, and your eyes are brightly focused on Waiting, Missing, and for a fleeting moment your expression flickers into longing, strange and old and battered and sad, that it compels Rafayel to take a step forward—to you.

“Hey.”

The curious look vanishes; left no traces in your delighted face, as if it wasn’t there in the first place. “Rafayel!” you exclaim. “Long time no see! Congratulations on the exhibit; these are all beautiful.”

Outwardly he smirks, belying the torrential emotions he’s currently going through. He cants his head a little, works his charm on you. “Impressed? No need to hold back your compliments.”

Laughter, prismatic and crystalline. “Yes, yes. Especially this one—Waiting, Missing. What an interesting title. At the center, what paint did you use?”

Ah. Rafayel inhales before answering. “It’s actually ink. I had to make it from a hundred berries. It was a tedious process, but I wouldn’t use anything else. It has to be this, you see.”

“Whoa, no wonder you’d been radio silent all this time. You were creating this masterpiece.”

He hums, afraid that, if he speaks, he’d reveal too much.

“Well …” You throw a playful glance at him. “Shouldn’t we celebrate your success?”

His breath catches. “I—”

Before he manages to finish the sentence, a journalist calls out to him and that summons plenty more, swarming him with no chance of escape. It pushes you out of his peripheral vision, and Rafayel wants to shout your name, but you smile and gesture at him to entertain them first. You mouth, I’ll be back, and wander around other paintings some more.

When he finally succeeds in shaking the journalists off, he seeks you out and stumbles upon you near the exit, where there’s fewer people to pile on him.

“Excellent,” he says, sidling up beside you. You turn to him and smile, and there’s that lightning-flash of something again. For one unbelievably surreal instant, Rafayel thinks that despite your hazy memories, maybe you’d been waiting for him all this time, too.

And that thought emboldens him, moving closer and closer until your bodies almost touch. An asymptote of contact. But this time, he has mustered the courage to close that unbridgeable gap.

Rafayel offers you his hand. “Let’s get out of here?”

You stare at his hand then at his face, his eyes, and a meaningful moment stretches between you and him. But even before the idea of retracting enters his mind, you grab his hand joyfully, grinning ear to ear. His heart warms, full with everything.

You squeeze his hand, ready to go. “Lead the way, then!”

+

vi. a kiss is a greeting and a goodbye, and rafayel tasted of ferocious tides even if you'd seen them only in dreams. his eyes closed, as though savoring his last moments with you, guarded till the bitter end. would that i could ask you to stay—with me. but he shook his head—a final rejection. maybe in another life. there was nobody to watch you cry, in the after.

+

Rafayel is working on a new painting—a portrait this time. The model squirms on his couch, obvious about the discomfort of posing for too long. He huffs a laugh to himself, hidden by the canvas strategically placed between them.

“I heard that,” you grumble.

“Shush, you’re breaking my concentration.”

“If that already breaks your focus then I pity the rest of the art community.” A beat, then: “Is it done?”

“Patience, my dear muse. You need endure it a little more.”

“Hmph, fine. But after this you’re treating me to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“All right, all right.” He shakes his head, fond. “My muse, so demanding.”

Something sweet touches the edge of his tongue, succulent with a hint of tartness. Like longing. Except now, it’s layered with something new and exciting. Something like a new beginning.

In the far distance, the sea murmurs, lit fire by the setting sun.

[theriu]

Hey this sounds fun! :D

Send me 10 characters and I will tell you who I would…

Marry

Drink tea with

Party with

Kiss

Go out on a date with

Push down the stairs

Slap

Invade the dreams of

Take a nap with

Rob

[luxurychristmaspudding]

Million Dollar Baby | FUTUREPROOF

prologue

summary: you're in la, and it's time to get this show on the road.

pairing: f!rockstar!reader x country star!joel

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. one minor drug reference. reader has hair and can swim.

wc: 3.3k

an: this is an edited repost of the original prologue! i've jiggled some stuff around to do with joel - he's now a gravelly voiced, universally adored country superstar.

if you've read before, it's up to you if you read again. see you soon anyhoo! <3

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

series masterlist | main masterlist | follow @pudding-notifs for updates!

The sunlight is warm, the breeze is mellow, and the bedsheets smell like home. 

Soft, so soft, cool against your warm limbs - every nudge of smooth linen cocooning your body against the waves of wakefulness. You stretch your legs - muscles loosening, mind empty - then your toes, and bury your face back into the pillow with a quiet grunt. 

Everything feels achy today. Just fatigued - cooped up on planes, huddled in the studio, hunched over a notebook in what Jack has fondly dubbed your ‘shrimp position’. But this feels good. Spreading your legs to starfish beneath the covers, breathing in the scent of your own shampoo, before shooting your arms to the headboard and pressing your palms against it. Sinew relaxes a little more, spine crackling. 

One eye winked open finds the room washed in gold, sheer curtains fluttering in the floor to ceiling windows, just obscuring the crest of the hills beyond the pool. 

You close your eyes again, breathing in deeply. Your tongue tastes sour, ashy - the only blot on the morning; a reminder of last night. The whirlwind of faces and places you’d been swept through by Eimear after leaving the studio, blurred into one soundscape while you were dreaming. 

You following her - a satin palm curled around your forearm, the gloss of her braids. Have you met…. Completely sober, brain ringing in your skull from ironing out kinks on the record, you’d made your excuses and escaped as quickly as possible from the glitteringly dark bar back to the house. Closed your eyes against the buzz of the Uber’s window, dragged yourself to the sofa, and shared a joint with Adie before hauling yourself to bed.

There’s a clench in your gut, a rumble. You groan, hunger creeping in, bubbling in your throat. You swing a hand away from the headboard, scrabbling about on the nightstand for your phone, squinting at the screen over the duvet. 

No missed calls. No urgent texts.

But at some point in your slumber, you’d snoozed your alarm.

You drop your face into the pillow again, mouthing a fuck into the cotton. Plans of eating at the café in the next neighbourhood over eviscerated by a fuzzier head. Again. 

You throw the covers off your legs, rubbing roughly at your face, and stand with a yawn. Pick up the pants and t-shirt you’d discarded on the floor last night, sling them over the chair in the corner of the room, and then move to retrieve your bikini from the balcony beyond the curtains.

A fine day out. Still warmer than you’re used to summer being, sun hot on your face even this early, but the view - the view. Spoiled by the label, high up enough to be away from the bustle, but close enough to watch the lights and the smog and the constant glimmer of dreams. 

You step back into the bedroom to tug and tie the swimsuit on before swinging open the door. The landing is quiet, empty. The same as you pad down to the kitchen. 

Everything is white, and where it’s not white, it’s glass and natural wood. It’s beautiful, it’s serene, and - as Eimear had said when you first arrived - very rock and roll. 

The wide, clean kitchen, marble-topped island stretched all the way across the space. Perfect for hosting. The sunken living room and its floating hearth. The rugs and the throws, the cushions, the potted plants, fading smell of incense. The bifold doors thrown back so you can step straight out to the patio and then the pool - sparkling, rippling in the morning sunlight. 

The doors Adie obviously hadn’t closed last night. The bottle of champagne he’d left open on the side. 

You give it a sniff as you walk past, deciding it isn’t worth it as you step towards the fridge instead. You pour a glass of orange juice and poke around for something else, grabbing a tub of mango you’d picked up yesterday. Croissants from the bread bin on the counter, then your sunglasses from where they sit next to the flowers Nick had sent you. 

The patio is hot underfoot, and you all but skip your way to one of the loungers set up by the edge of the pool, clutching your breakfast. You slide your sunglasses onto the bridge of your nose, settling cross-legged on the pale cushions. Orange juice cradled between your thighs, croissant and mango in front of you. 

Nick Walton, Hollywood’s newly heralded genius. You’d thought he’d be wanky at first - obnoxious, loud, demanding - but the man who had introduced himself to you months ago, who had joined you in the studio over the last week, was quiet, kind. A crooked smile, an asinine sense of humour. Ready and generous with praise and votes of confidence, gentle direction offered when needed. He’d been a dream to work with, so much so that the whole band had been quick to tell him they’d love to work together again - if he wanted to. And he did.

You savour the earthy sweetness in your mouth, rip a corner off the croissant. 

It was exciting. Being privy to such a project, being sent rough cuts and signing new NDAs. It had been something to do on the road - a distraction from the venues you were playing every night, a challenge to fit to a brief. Something you, as a band, had never really done before. Working not just to convey a message, a feeling, but a place. A story beyond what you knew.

You lick the mango juice from your fingers, your wrist, swipe the crumbs from your lap. Finish your orange juice in great gulps, enjoying the coolness, the tartness. You wanted Nick to be confident he’d made the right choice. Confident that you respected his work, appreciated it, wanted to uplift it. 

The extravagant florals that had arrived before Eimear had whisked you away last night confirmed that. The only thing left now was to lay down the last of the vocals and earn the seal of approval from Joel Miller - co-producer, man of the moment. 

So squeaky fucking clean you wonder whether the air around him sparkles.

You stand from the sunbed, reaching up, wiggling your fingers at the sky, before swooping low to touch your toes. Almost. You fold your sunglasses up next to your glass, leaving them to tiptoe around the edge of the pool. Moving to stand at the top of the tiled steps, up to your ankles in the water. Cool, cool, cool. The LA skyline stretched out ahead of you - concrete jungle sprawled under clear blue sky. 

Joel Miller somewhere out there, getting ready to share his thoughts on the track. A big deal. Critically acclaimed albums, AMAs, BMAs and Grammy Awards, nominations up the wazoo. Something lurches in your stomach, a familiar that has tread with you since the beginning. The doubt, the worry. The almost overwhelming expectation to disappoint. 

Maybe he won’t like you. Maybe he’s never liked your music. Maybe he’ll wear sunglasses the entire time and won’t speak.

Don’t be childish. You take a step deeper into the pool. 

Maybe he won’t.

Maybe he’ll be everything people say he is. Unfailingly polite, sweet. Humorous, if prone to a little grump now and again. Maybe he’s heard a few songs on the radio.

You take a step deeper.

Maybe he’ll be taller than you think. You know he’s handsome. Broad, strong. Greying curls, deep, sad eyes, full mouth and scruffy beard. Voice like smoked velvet on his tracks for Red Sky, cradling you through the mixer. Not that you ever thought about him and that voice when you’d crash in your hotel room at the end of a night. Not his gravelly tone, or his hands. His thick fingers on his guitar, nor the bulge that strained in videos against his low slung belt - 

You crouch, arms joined over your head. Feet anchored, pressure forced down as your legs extend and lift, arcing towards the water. 

The dive sweeps the remnants of sleep, worries, thoughts of Joel Miller away. The water fills the conches of your ears, softening sound. You close your eyes, lost to the peace of the dark. Coolness slips past, greases joints, holds you gently. You kick and pull until your lungs strain, pushing one foot off the floor to pop back up to the surface, wiping chlorine from your eyes, your lips. 

You look back over the city, treading water, before turning to face the house. Much bigger than it needs to be - but pretty and green. There are plants everywhere - trees and flowers, grass to your right. Sweet honeysuckle on the breeze, musk of heated tarmac. 

You tip your head back, and your body follows. Sound muffled again, you blink your eyes open to look up into the blue. Endless. You search for birds, letting it calm you - how small you really are. How, no matter how many people gather in crowds, there are more who simply couldn’t give less of a fuck about who you are. 

It doesn’t matter if Joel Miller is one of them. 

You swim a few leisurely laps before pulling yourself out and wrapping a discarded towel around your shoulders, drying off just enough to come back inside the house. You’re brewing coffee when Adie emerges - freshly showered, shirt only buttoned halfway, sunglasses on.

You smirk at him, and he flips you off, wincing as he takes a seat at the island. He rests his head in his hands.

“Morning, rockstar,” you beam, pouring the drink into mugs, and he grunts in response. 

You scrub a rough hand over his buzzcut, and he grumbles out a low “Fuck off,” voice low and raspy.

You snicker, placing a steaming cup beneath his hanging head. He’s always suffered the worst with hangovers, unaided by the five years he has on the rest of you. 

“Come on, dude,” you grin, sliding onto the seat next to him, rivulets of pool water trickling down your back. “You’ve gotta look sprightly. You’re seeing George today, right?”

“He’s seen me worse,” he grumbles, taking a sip. He pulls his sunglasses down his nose just enough to give you a once over. “Aren’t you seeing Nick?”

You nod, blowing steam away from your cup.

“And Joel.”

“Joel,” Adie repeats, like he’s rolling the name around his mouth. “Still want to do disgusting things to him?”

You pull a face, knocking his shoulder, and he clutches his stomach with a groan.

“Ew, Adie.”

“Don’t move me,” he gasps, “I’m not at my best.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you snipe, eyeing him over your coffee. He glances back at you once he’s taken a couple of deep breaths.

“Well? Do you?”

You wrinkle your nose at him.

“Obviously, asshole.”

He shrugs, a slow smile stretching his mouth as he curls himself over the counter. You giggle, an embarrassed little sound, and he snorts into his coffee, choking, spraying it over the marble and your arm. You howl at him - Oh, gross, dude - and then you’re cackling together, something like excitement finally rising in your gut. This is your best friend, this is the dream, even ten years in. And this is part of the cycle - tour, crash, doubt, do it again. You swipe your hand down your arm, holding it out to wipe on his shirt. He catches your wrist before you can, twisting so the silk is as far away from you as possible.

“Absolutely not,” he says, grappling with you, “If I have to go upstairs to change, I will literally never make it back down.”

You give up easily, knocking your forehead against his shoulder, still giggling. He smells like Adie. He smells like home.

“You, on the other hand,” he continues, pushing your head back roughly with his palm, “Could definitely do with a shower. If only for the one and only Mr Mi-”

You flick his ear, and he crows at you -

“Bastard! I’ll find some other wanker to sing!”

- as you take off, dancing around the island, edging towards the stairs.

You put your hands on your hips, tongue in cheek.

“I knew you never liked me - y’know, you were always much more made for the attention -”

“Shut the fuck uuup,” he groans, rolling his eyes, “I love you forever, kisses, kisses, whatever the fuck. Shower,” he says, levelling a finger at you.

You bite your lip against your smile.

“Will you be gone when I’m ready?”

He nods, making to cross himself. You snort again.

“God willing.”

“Alright. Have fun. Give George my love. Make sure Cam’s got nothing in his teeth.”

He smiles, all mischief, all genuine affection.

“Will do, bud. You too. Knock ‘em dead.”

You blow him a kiss as you begin to ascend the steps, and he feigns a swing to bat it away.

“Save them for Joel!”

You flash him the finger, and his cackle is the answer to your ringing -

“Fuck you, Gilman!”

Her voice is sweet, gentle down the phone. It makes his chest tighten a little, nails dig into his palms. I miss you.

“Dad, you’ll be fine,” Sarah sighs, breath of air shooting through the line. If he closes his eyes, he can see her smile. Knowing, placating. Hundreds of miles away, back in Texas for college. Sick of LA ever since they moved here.

Sometimes, Joel reckons she had the right idea.

“You’ve worked with way more... intimidating people. And from what Nick’s said, she seems really nice.”

He grunts, swiping a hand across his face, scratching at his beard. She’s right.

“I know. Jus’ want it to go well. Jus’ hope she likes it all, so I’m not gon’ be sittin’ there feelin' like -”

“Dad,” she groans, “Chill out. You're a pro. It wouldn't have gotten this far if it was bad, Nick or someone would have said something. All you've gotta do is sing your part and say you thought their stuff was great, then get a selfie for Ellie. And that’s all you need to do. Anything else is a bonus.”

Joel casts a glance over at Ellie - all limbs sat at the kitchen counter, munching on cereal, earbuds in. 

“Okay. Alright.”

There’s quiet for a moment, and he cringes at how well she can read him.

“Sure?” She checks. He clears his throat, nodding.

“Yeah. It’ll be fine.”

He can hear her smile again.

“It will. Right, I gotta go. Call me later, I want all the details.”

He chuckles, kneading his forehead.

“I will. I love you, baby girl.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

The line cuts, three beeps, and he turns his attention back to Ellie. Takes a moment to watch her head bopping, her foot tapping, before waving an arm around until she takes an earbud out.

“Ready to go, kiddo?”

She swallows comically, giving him a thumbs up before leaping off her seat, crossing the kitchen to deposit her bowl in the sink. 

“Yup. Are you driving?” She asks, crossing back over to the foyer, eyeing the keys in the blue dish by the door.

“Sure am,” he grins, taking her bowl from the sink and stacking it in the dishwasher. She rolls her eyes, jamming a foot into a shoe. “Precious cargo.”

“Joel,” she groans, standing, “I am seventeen years old -”

“Ah,” he chuckles, clapping her on the back, opening the front door. “Still my kid. Let’s go.”

She’s watching him. 

He can see how her eyes keep flicking his way in his periphery, her smirk from the passenger seat as he taps his thumbs on the steering wheel, chewing his cheek.

“Are you nervous?” 

His eyes find hers, crinkled with a smile, warmth hidden behind the mirth. A depth of understanding that goes beyond her years.

He shrugs.

“Is it obvious?”

She looks out the windscreen, avoiding his eye, but he can still see the downwards tip of her mouth as she tries to hide her amusement.

“No.”

He grinds his jaw, feeling the beginnings of a flush crawl up his neck.

“You know,” Ellie says, turning to face him again, “She’s supposed to be really cool. Nice. They all are, even if you don’t meet the whole band. Forget about anything else you might’ve heard. And - she’s just a person. Like you. And dude, this is literally your job.”

A single eyebrow climbs up his forehead.

“You heard that, huh?”

This time, she does smile.

“Relax,” she says, “And if you screw it up, at least get that selfie for me.”

He chuckles, eyes scanning back out over the road. Traffic, people, lights turning red to green.

“I’ll do my best.”

He doesn’t want to tell her how he stayed up late last night watching your interviews. Doesn’t want her to know how he watched the Wired Autocomplete video three times - because you’re funny. Smart and sharp, and private. He appreciates that. Knows you must have worked hard to reach a point where others have so many questions. 

Doesn’t want her to know how he then went on to watch live performances, songs recorded in front of thousands of people. Wishing he’d paid better attention when she’d shown him before. Covers sung in live lounges, radio appearances - one by Sabrina Carpenter that’s been everywhere lately, another by fucking Chris Stapleton, before finding his favourite. Just you, strumming a guitar - something rare in all the other footage he’d watched. Lover, You Should've Come Over.

How he’d then tapped out your name on Instagram, scrolling back through weeks of posts. Photoshoots, festivals, tour, magazine covers. Stumbled across edits, something Sarah had taught him about. Videos, compilations of you that made his face heat with shame, his heart beat faster. He’d thought he was above it all - within the same stratosphere, unaffected by such things. But he’d been proven wrong. Taken in by your voice, your words. How you looked in that dress, the sliver of stomach exposed on stage. Your doe eyes in the dark of a bathtub, a shoot for Vanity Fair.

He’s really realised, perhaps for the first time, that Ellie is right. Ellie, who’d had your posters up in her room until a year ago. Ellie, who Sarah had taken to your gig at the Staples Center. Ellie, who’d been playing your music - loud - ever since she’d first found it. Music which, he knows now, also loves.

You are cool - so fucking cool, so fucking beautiful. Accomplished, respected, talented. And now he’s noticed the colour of your eyes, the curve of your lips, the ease with which you perform. The way you move, how electric you are.

And he feels so out of his depth.

He pulls up just down the street from her school, slow halt of tires on tarmac, watching the throng of students cross the road. A jumble of bags moving along the sidewalk, and when they part, he watches Ellie grin as Dina looks up from her phone to wave at the two of them. 

His daughter grabs the backpack by her feet before leaning over to kiss his cheek. He tries to smile.

“You’ve got this,” she whispers, a gentle hand on his arm. She smiles back as she pops open the door and scooches out. “Remember, selfie - and if Vic is there, tell her I’m single -”

“I’m right here,” Dina laughs from over her shoulder, giving Ellie a playful shove. Joel chuckles, returning her yelled Morning, Mr Miller. Ellie shrugs.

“Okay, tell her nothing. I just think she’s cool,” she winks, closing the door with a soft thud before throwing an arm around her girlfriend, chatting away to her as they disappear into the crowd of teenagers. 

Joel waits until he can no longer see them before checking his flush in the rearview mirror. When he’s satisfied he looks close to normal, not nervous, he takes a deep breath and pulls off. 

There’s someone he has to meet.