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ddarker-dreams · 2 months ago

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A Deal's a Deal II.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, descriptions of anxiety and emotional/mental manipulation. Word count: 4.1k.

You met Chrollo at an old hole-in-the-wall bookstore that housed archaic texts.

There was little information on your condition, but what material did exist hid itself beneath allegory and ciphers. The best leads came from high strangeness circles. They expanded on Jung’s concept of the collective unconscious, drawing parallels between historical records across cultures and periods that all implied some system that transcended physical limitations. Whether it came from alchemists like Paracelsus, mystics like Crowley, or authors like William Blake, hints of this system can be found sprinkled throughout history.

Chrollo informed you that this system is commonly called ‘Nen.’

Before him, the nomenclature eluded you. You simply regarded it as a phenomenon best kept to yourself. The world’s a weird place, filled with inexplicable things that the human mind can’t always comprehend. This handheld device, which you nicknamed Instant Replay, is the foremost example.

You were always aware that you knew things you shouldn’t have. As a child, it perplexed you. Why do people sometimes sound weird? A few trips to the audiologist proved your hearing is perfectly fine. When this avenue didn’t provide answers, you ended up in counseling, where you reenacted the dilemma with dolls. For a while, you insisted that what you heard was real. It frustrated you to no end that the adults in your life either dismissed you or offered bromides.

As an adult yourself in the present, you can’t blame them for being at a loss.

You smartened up eventually. What you once blabbed about to anyone who would listen, you kept to yourself. This eased the tensions at home. Your parents seemed happy that the issue had ‘resolved’ itself and you maintained the illusion. Playing pretending could only do so much — the core problem remained. Your mind made the connection that when another was being dishonest, that’s when their voice would sound strange. After you realize that, there’s no going back. The epiphany changed how you interacted with others for better and for worse.

“You want to get rid of your ability?” he sounded surprised when he asked.

“How could I not?” you replied. “People lie… a lot. Friends, family, strangers. And, okay, that might not seem bad, but imagine always being aware of it. It— It eats away at you. Wears down your ability to trust. I have to act like I’m none the wiser, knowing full well someone just lied to my face. I don’t want to know! I’m tired of knowing!”

“You’re unable to control when it’s active?”

“Instant Replay lets me ‘review’ audio, both in real-time and after it’s been recorded. I have control over the latter, but that’s it.”

Your antagonistic relationship with Nen fascinated Chrollo. According to him, most people were intentional when it came to crafting their Hatsu. There are very few cases like yours where Hatsu is subconsciously given shape and form. You wish your subconscious had created something more useful, like a sword. That would’ve been cool.

“Could I learn a new ability to oust Instant Replay?” you wondered.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way,” Chrollo dismissed. “In theory, it is possible to learn different abilities, although your inexperience would make that difficult. There’s no way to erase an ability either. You can, however, lose access to it. For instance, there’s my predicament, or…”

He leaned in close and whispered:

“... Someone could steal it.”

Chrollo looks out of place in your apartment.

It’s a cozy, lived-in space, full of trinkets that he thoughtfully examines as if he were in the Louvre. Meanwhile, you prepare two cups of tea. Chamomile with honey for you and Earl Grey for him. After setting the timer for five minutes, you realize there’s not much else to do but wait. The silence is unusual and unnerving. Anticipation thrums through the air like an electric current. You feel it coursing through your blood; tingling along your skin.

The barstool you’ve chosen as your perch groans against the wooden floor as you pull it out.

Chrollo picks up a picture for closer inspection. You crane your neck, curious about which snapshot captured his attention. It’s from a night out with friends. Empty plates and drinks littered the table and each of you crowded in close to fit into frame. Since the restaurant was high-end, you were dolled up, adorned in an outfit that rarely saw the light of day.

“Swarovski?” He sounds amused.

“I’ve been known to splurge on the occasion,” you huff. “The necklace was on sale and the earrings were—”

You cut yourself off, although you’re unsure why. It shouldn’t be a taboo topic. Nonetheless, beneath the weight of his gaze, you couldn’t get the word out.

“—From an ex?” He offers.

You nod.

He returns the picture to its proper place, a cryptic smile on his lips. “So even you aren’t above materialistic impulses, hm?”

“There’s a difference between rampant consumerism and buying yourself something nice on occasion,” you retaliate, disliking the edge of mockery in his voice. “I don’t need to hear this from the dude wearing a silver Rolex watch.”

“It’s white gold.”

You roll your eyes. “A camel through the eye of a needle.”

“‘First cast out the beam out of thine own eye.’”

“Do you seriously have the entire King James version of the Bible memorized?”

“It was one of the most accessible texts in my youth,” he says, his smile softening into something pensive. “The missionaries were far more generous with those showing signs of ‘progress.’ I tried helping my companions memorize the more significant passages, but they weren’t what you’d call ideal pupils.”

Missionaries? You purse your lips and consider the implications. Had Chrollo grown up in destitution? Come to think of it, you know very little about him or his background. Unlike you, he never volunteered the information. He skillfully maneuvered around any inquiry into his past. The most you’ve gleaned is that he’s a traveling antiquarian who, in pursuit of valuables, made some enemies along the way.

The shrill shriek of the timer rips you from your thoughts.

Chrollo accepts his mug with a “thank you” and sits on the rightmost side of your coach. After plopping two ice cubes into your concoction, you join him, leaving ample room between you. The nerves from earlier return. He’s an easy man to converse with, but when his mind is preoccupied — as it most certainly is now — you’re at a loss. Do you try reinitiating banter? Opt for a completely different topic? Or should you let him initiative, squirming around until he breaks the thickening tension?

“Have I held you in suspense long enough?” Chrollo asks while holding his hand out. A book with a handprint on the cover appears, the pages flipping too fast for you to gauge their contents.

The quality of his aura temporarily stupefies you. This must be the difference between a novice like yourself and a genius. You can muster up enough aura to summon Instant Replay, but that takes considerable effort. To him, managing the flow of aura comes as easy as breathing. You scooch closer to study his technique. How long would it take you to match his expertise? Years? Decades?

“I’ll get bashful if you keep staring at me like that.”

“Liar,” you accuse without any real malice.

He chuckles.

“Give me your hand.”

Heat rushes to your face as you recall what happened when you last parted. “D-Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

Hesitantly, you do as he requests. He maneuvers your hand against the conjured book’s cover. You gnaw on your bottom lip, trepidation brewing inside your soul. You thought you’d feel relieved when this moment came. There’d be some butterflies, yes, but that would quickly give way to relief and exhilaration. The thorn that’s been in your side all these years is finally coming out. Your quid pro quo has reached its conclusion; this is your reward, your ticket to a normal life.

“I like you too.”

“I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

“It’s okay if you come.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“We’ll always be together.”

Yes, people lie a lot. Sometimes, you’re unsure if they’re even aware of it themselves. They lie to you, the people they love, the people they hate, and themselves. Fate decided you’d be made witness to their folly, sewing your lips shut and eyes wide open. The wounds it left behind are intangible and incurable. How do you heal what you can’t explain knowing to others? How do you explain your hesitation, shift in demeanor, and inadequate coverup?

The sound of Instant Replay whirring reverberates throughout your skull.

Chrollo speaks your name softly. You startle, realizing that you’re blinking back tears.

“I—”

“It’s alright,” he reassures. The words sound crisp — genuine — soothing your budding concern that you’re inconveniencing him somehow. In an instant, the hardcover dissipates, leaving your hand flat against nothing. Chrollo takes the opportunity to come closer. When you don’t protest, he completely closes the distance, until you’re thigh to thigh.

He smells good. Intoxicatingly so.

“Show me the ability you despise so much, dear.”

Dear? You think to protest the emergence of this nickname, yet you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you follow his order, mechanically lifting your arm and summoning your ability much like he had.

“Good. It’s almost over with,” he brushes the wetness away from your eyes with his knuckles. Your heart leaps at the contact. “Finally, I have to ask about your ability. There are so many possibilities… what to choose, what to choose… ah.”

With the same hand that wiped away your nascent tears, he cups your cheek.

“Do you trust a man like me with such a dangerous ability?”

“I have my reservations,” you respond. You don’t miss the amusement he derives from your candidness. “This sounds bad, but… at this point, I guess I just don’t care.”

For a moment, all is still. There’s no odor of sulfur, maniacal cackling, or declaration that the ritual is complete. You didn’t have to sign a contract in blood or swear an oath to an infernal being. Your overactive imagination ran numerous scenarios through your head. The lack of flair over this life-defining moment is almost underwhelming. You frown, fearing that there was an error somewhere along the way. If there was, he’s given no indication, yet you’ll remain restless until the results are confirmed.

“Chrollo?”

“Hm?”

“Did it work?”

“It did, love.”

“Could you, um,” you lick your lips, a motion that draws his attention. “Make something up so I can know for sure?”

This request amuses him.

“How will you know if I’m being honest to mess around with you or not?”

At this, you give him a light shove. Given his apparent playfulness, you expected him to move back, but he doesn’t budge an inch. It felt like trying to move a concrete building.

“Make it an obvious lie, then.”

“An obvious lie, hm?” He mulls over your suggestion. “Very well. How about this: I don’t want you beneath me.”

You gape at him, dumbstruck.

“I find it easy to control my urges around you.”

He keeps going.

“I’m unmoved by your beauty…”

He gently pushes your shoulders until you’re lying down.

“... Your wit…”

He hovers above you, tracing the outline of your lips with his pointer finger.

“... And boundless charm.”

Chrollo tilts your head up by your chin. “Well? Do you believe me now?”

Slowly, as if in a daze, you nod. Your heart lurches, the organ beating loud enough to hear in your ears. You feel uncomfortably warm, like your heater’s been cranked to the highest setting. Gradually, the violent joy you expected to accompany your liberation abounds, starting at your chest and overflowing outward. You’re smiling, breathless, your corporeal form barely able to contain the glee. You see your reflection in Chrollo’s eyes. There’s a manic quality to your countenance; you barely recognize yourself.

You’re free, you’re free, you’re free—

His lips find yours. Your cognition short circuits, leaving you in a reverie where you can barely understand what’s happening. He handles you so carefully that it’s easy to forget you’re physically trapped. He carries on, either failing to notice your apprehension or disregarding it.

On some level, you’ve always sensed this underlying attraction. You remained purposefully obtuse. There was too much at stake — jeopardizing your aims for a fling felt counterintuitive. On paper, he’d make for the ideal partner. He’s devilishly handsome, charismatic, and intelligent to a fault. Aside from some dubious morality, you couldn’t ask for a better suitor.

And still, hesitation prevailed.

Every now and then, there’d be glimpses of some great, existential threat, beneath the fissures of his porcelain mask. These glimpses gave you pause. You think he could’ve tried harder to hide these damning qualities, yet chose not to. Where’s the fun — the thrill — in always playing nice? You needed his help more than he needed yours. His connections spanned continents, whereas yours were shallow and easy to uproot.

How many of your convictions would you compromise?

How far would you let the poison spread to cure another affliction?

How can you look down on him if you’ve fallen to the same level?

When he pulls away, you avert your gaze, fearing what stares back.

“... So you are afraid of me, then.”

Chrollo lets you wriggle out from underneath him. When your eyes make brief contact, it feels like he’s inspecting you, as if you were a specimen in a petri dish. It isn’t the reaction you’d expect from a rejected man. Nonetheless, you’re on edge and longing for a menial task to occupy yourself with. Recalling the state of the kitchen, you decide that will suffice.

He remains seated as you wash and dry the implements used to make your tea.

This uncharacteristic silence unsettles you further. The only audible sound in your apartment is your faucet, the water running over silverware that’s plenty clean. You scrub at it harder, wondering what you should do next. Originally, you intended to thank him for his pivotal role in removing your burden. You never would have made it this far without his assistance. Even with this strange atmosphere, your gratitude remains unwavering.

You’ll be able to live life like anyone else now. It’s an accomplishment worthy of celebration, regardless of the twists and turns along the way. Maybe he misinterpreted your body language or acted on an impulse. These mistakes can happen when emotions run high.

Okay, you think, psyching yourself up. This doesn’t have to be weird. I can—

“Have you given much thought over last week’s unpleasantness?”

Your heart skips a beat and your shoulders droop.

“I assume you haven’t,” he says. “That’s fair. It must’ve been frightening… I wish I could have spared you such an experience.”

The appreciation he previously instilled in you desiccates, drop by drop.

“Will you please get to the point?”

Under different circumstances, you would’ve been more patient with his preamble, but this is a sore subject. A buried corpse like that shouldn’t be exhumed. His reasoning, though elusive to you now, doesn’t inspire warm sentiments.

“That incident won’t be the last of its kind.”

You turn around as he approaches, sipping his tea. He leans against the counter and eyes you over the cup’s rim.

“In truth, we should’ve left hours ago, but I was feeling sentimental.”

“‘We?’ Chrollo, what are you talking about?”

“Had it not been for your role in getting my Nen back, Hisoka would’ve killed you,” Chrollo says this so casually that you question if you’re hearing him right. “Now that you’ve done your part, he has a vested interest in doing so.”

You no longer have a way to verify if he’s telling the truth or not. It’s so stupid, so unfair, that you almost laugh. Instant Replay no longer heeds your call. You surrendered it to a new master, who, before taking it from your willing hands, all but told you he was the worst person you could’ve picked.

Chrollo continues, “He’s a peculiar case. All he cares about is fighting formidable opponents, and, with my Nen returned, I am one.”

You take a step back.

“That business is between you two. I fail to see how this involves me.”

“I have preparations to finish before I face him,” Chrollo explains. “He doesn’t feel like waiting any longer. Harming you is an excellent way to speed things along. Even I don’t know what I’d do if you were fatally injured.”

You shake your head. “I— you’re not serious. There’s just no way. I’m moving past all of this bullshit. Nen, Hatsu, whatever; that has nothing to do with me anymore. I’m done.”

“I’m sorry, dear.”

“No, you aren’t!” Your voice raises in pitch, pulled as taut as a bowstring. “You knew, didn’t you? That this would be a problem? Oh, oh, you had to, why else would you have acted all weird when you saw him? Stop looking at me like you care, like you’re sorry, 'cause this is the best-case scenario for you!”

You pace back and forth, your mind racing. This was a mistake. Walking up to him because you recognized the book in his hands was a mistake. Is he bluffing? And if he is, does it matter? You can’t put up a fight. You don’t think you could even make it to the door. If he was a regular man, you’d have options. You could yell for help, call the cops, and inflict some damage, minor as it may be. All those tactics turn to ash before an oppressive, incomprehensible force like this.

You snap your head in his direction. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“I don’t see how that will help.”

You prepare to spew vitriol his way, when a dreadful thought shoots through you like a bullet.

“My family. What about them? Won’t they be in danger too?”

“They aren’t on his radar.”

“How do you know that?”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Chrollo sets the cup down. “The suffering of your loved ones wouldn’t elicit a reaction from me, so he won’t bother. Targeting you is the wisest option.”

Words fail you. Is this it? The depravity he kept subdued finally let loose, so dense in its quality that it threatens to suffocate you? All you wanted was a semblance of normalcy. Normal relationships, interactions, and problems. Has the path you’ve treaded brought you further away from this humble aspiration? Or is there still a way, some faint silver lining that you must find and latch onto?

“What about after?”

“Hm?”

“After Hisoka is dealt with,” you clarify, tapping your foot repeatedly. “You’re not going to let him live, are you?”

“That’s rather dark.”

“Chrollo,” you implore.

“No, I won’t,” he confirms. “As for what comes next — I intend to persuade you.”

You regard him with suspicion. His tone and the implications sink into you like a venomous bite. He exudes quiet confidence, indicating that nothing you’ve said will influence him in any meaningful way. Dread sticks to your stomach, making your body feel heavy. You hug yourself, clenching your upper arms with shaky fingers. Any lingering excitement from earlier has vaporized, leaving behind a profound hollowness.

“I suppose this can go a few ways,” you murmur. “I could cause as many headaches for you as possible, or, I could be decent enough.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’d like to have Instant Replay back,” you say. He quirks an eyebrow. “Just for a bit. What? I’m assuming if you can steal something, you can give it back, right?”

“You’d be correct. Still, that begs the question; what are you intending to accomplish with this little scheme?”

“Nothing that’ll inconvenience you in any major way.”

Chrollo falls silent. You dig your nails into your flesh as the seconds drag on, awaiting his verdict. If he had your ability activated, he should’ve been able to discern your honesty. Then again, he’s aware of the workarounds. To ensure your words wouldn’t register as untrue, you had to remain vague and subjective. What you consider an inconvenience could differ drastically from him.

“I’m sure I won’t regret this.”

Your eyes widen. That dissonant timbre is unmistakable, he returned your ability! Filled with newfound resolve, you stride toward him, your eyes blazing. This is your chance. You need to make the most of this opening before it’s gone forever. He could choose not to answer any of your questions, but something tells you he won’t, like it’d injure his pride. You issued him a challenge and he’s intent on meeting it.

“Did you have anything to do with what happened last week?”

“I didn’t.”

“Did Hisoka?”

“No, he just happened to be observing you from afar.”

“Why?”

“For his personal amusement, I’d wager.”

“He’d really kill me just to… agitate you?”

“It’s in line with his character.”

You swallow thickly and press on.

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then I’m wrong. Regardless, you’ll be alive and well.”

“Can you win against him in a fight?”

“Yes.”

“And if you somehow lose, what happens next?”

“My companions will hunt him down and kill him.”

Now that you’ve gotten your most pressing inquiries out of the way, you decide to wade through dangerous waters. Chrollo likely saw the benefit in assuaging your doubt, these next questions provide him nothing substantial. His willingness to humor you is undoubtedly finite. Keeping this in mind, you consider the possibilities. You may never have a chance like this again. Is there anything that can give you an advantage? You’ll take anything, no matter how small, even if all it offers is an illusion of control.

Chrollo glances at his watch in a not-so-subtle motion.

“Who sealed your Nen?”

“Now this is more what I expected,” he hums. His eyes take on a bright, unsettling shade. “An individual with a longstanding grudge. Your paths will not cross, I suggest adopting another plan of attack.”

He saw right through you. You knew it was a long shot, but collaborating with this mysterious figure would have proven advantageous. They must be powerful in their own right to have bested Chrollo. Should you try pressing for more information? Then again, Chrollo doesn’t seem keen on sharing more, much to your chagrin.

What does that leave you with…?

“How do you plan on ‘persuading’ me?”

“You’re better off not knowing until we get to that point.”

You frown. If that didn’t register as a lie, it must be what he genuinely believes. Curiosity plagues you, dredging up anxiety. You have but a few grains of sand left in the hourglass remaining. It’s suspended midair, poised to drop at the most ill-timed moment. The approach of the end is worse than its inevitable arrival. You now have the chance to hasten its onset, at the risk of being debilitated by the impact. What lows would he resort to? Are you actually better off remaining ignorant?

“Alright, let’s—”

“Does it hurt to know I’ll never love you?”

Up until this point, he’s fired back with a near instant response. This time, however, he hesitates, the invasive nature of the inquiry necessitating careful thought. You finally found an effective ‘attack.’ It’s too late to do you any lasting good, but you greedily devour it nonetheless. When dealing with a person of Chrollo’s caliber, it’s easy to forget he possesses the same human qualities you do. You might be unable to stop his heart from beating, but you can make the organ ache.

“I can live with it, dear.”

You pinch your eyebrows together, thrown off by his voice’s clarity. Is the knowledge that inconsequential to him? Have you misjudged his attachment? While considering this, you flex your fingers, concentrating your aura there. You can’t repeat his words back since Instant Replay wasn’t recording, but you still decide to conjure it. You’ll record what remains of this conversation to ensure you don’t miss anything else.

The flow of your aura halts at your wrist, refusing to take form. Frowning, you try again, only to realize he must have reclaimed your ability.

When did that happen? Was it before or after his response?

Chrollo says your name, regaining your attention. “I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Will you do the same?”

After playing the role of the interrogator, you’re back to being an inmate. You meant what you said — when you said it, that is. This is yet another loophole to subvert Instant Replay. What’s true to you in one instant can change in the next. It’s frightening how fast he’s learned these nuances that took you years to test and discover. He’s already making the most of your ability, turning what was a thorn in your side into a full-fledged dagger.

“What choice do I have?”

“There’s always a choice,” Chrollo asserts. “You just have a habit of making the wrong ones.”

A delirious laugh leaves your lips.

"... I suppose you're right."

#chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #hxh x reader #yandere hxh x reader #chrollo brainrot #my stuff

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remlionheart · 4 months ago

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up against the wall

୨ৎ MDNI. this is the first fic i've really posted that's come with a caution sign, but dark content ahead, you have been warned ♡ this was originally an oc x dazai but i converted into dazai x fem!reader for all of you who wanted to read it ♡ a bit yandere on both dazai and reader's part. full submission. degradation and praise. gunplay. dom!dazai ((fucking yum)). lemme know whatcha think, luv you ♡୨ৎ

take me, take me back to your bed i love you so much that it hurts my head. say I don't mind you under my skin i'll let the bad parts in, the bad parts in... ─★ now playing: degausser

You had always known what and who Osamu Dazai was. The parts of him that he’d given you and the parts of him that he tried to hide– they were both engrained into your mind. Clawed and carved into your heart no matter how much he attempted to conceal off pieces of himself that he didn’t want you to have access to.

He'd learned pretty early on in your relationship that there was no such thing as avoiding you, not just because of your Mind Glimpse, but because of who you were as a person. The sheer lengths that you'd go just to get to him were hopeless and absolutely devoid of all logic.

At 16, you'd tattooed his initial on your forearm when Mori tried to put an end to your relationship. Nearly killed yourself a couple of years later when you somehow managed to teleport all the way from Port Mafia to his apartment, collapsing in his living room from overusing your ability all because he wouldn't answer your calls. There was no obstacle or barrier strong enough to stop you from gravitating towards him the way you did and the worst part was, Osamu... liked your earth-shattering devotion to him.

He'd never experienced love before and he'd certainly never experienced… whatever it was between the two of you before either, but there was something about your raw and unapologetic honesty that captivated him. He’d spent so much of his life being conditioned to lie and manipulate to get others to bend to his will and yet, you... would happily break yourself for him just because.

You'd do anything, really. Any request, no matter the cost. Any command, no matter the risk. Any hoop, no matter the height– you'd always find a way, finishing the task with with wide eyes and a smile. “Like that? Was that good?” You might as well have been a puppy with how you obeyed him so thoroughly. It was equal parts amusing and… something else entirely. Something that Dazai wasn't quite ready to face.

The nickname “little ghost” that he'd gifted you expanded well beyond your ability to vanish, it rang true in all aspects of your relationship. You were his shadow. His mirror. Your curiosity just as relentless and unwavering as his own. Your determination and shamelessness just as dangerous when it came to getting the things you wanted and he was always the thing you wanted most.

You saw him, even when he didn’t think you did. Not just the flippant exterior that he presented to the outside world. Not the hollow cut-out version of himself that he used to blend into crowds. No, you saw him– the full scope of who he was and who he pretended not to be, and you still clung onto him like your life depended on it. Craved him. Haunted him. Trusted him. And worst of all, loved him. Really, sincerely, desperately loved him.

In your first year at Port Mafia, Dazai had written you off as entertainment. A fun, fragile little toy that he could pick up and dissect whenever he got bored and he got bored a lot. But you were happy to oblige, often catching him off guard with how excitedly you would offer parts of yourself up to him without him even having to ask.

You were an enigma in your own right. Something he’d never really seen before. So starved for attention but so infuriatingly stubborn when it came to letting yourself receive it. So obsessed with the idea of love but so tragically clueless when it came to actually being able to identify it. So in-tune with the emotions of everyone else around you but so completely unaware of your own. You were dangerous– Mori’s worst migraine and Dazai’s best asset with the way your ability would spiral out of control when your feelings became too much for you to bear.

Dazai was hardly solid, made up of nothing more than loose-leaf ideas and questionable personality traits that he’d stolen from others and pieced together for himself over the years. But to you, he was so much more. He was the very foundation beneath your feet, the gravity that kept you standing and upright most days, never letting you float too far into your mind. He was the only thing that could stabilize you and not just from his nullification, but from simply being there. As Chuuya had pointed out so many times, the two of you were “a match made in hell”, but you both seemed to find more comfort than threat in the flames you created together.

Four years ago, if you would’ve asked Dazai how it happened– how your relationship with him had morphed into something that bared such an eerie resemblance to that of trust and understanding, he would’ve dismissed it, but now…

His eyes narrowed, amusement flickering across his face as you circled him in your makeshift training room. “Careful. I told you I’m not gonna let you win this time.”

A spark of silver and blue electricity cracked into the air, your small frame vanishing from where you had been standing across from him, only to reappear right beside him. Your breath hot and tantalizing against the shell of his ear, “Be rough with me then, I can take it.” The smile in your voice was palpable and then– gone.

Now… there was no denying how much he loved chasing and breaking you, his favorite little toy.

He let you have your fun for a few more minutes, folding his arms over his chest with a smirk as you teleported across the abandoned warehouse with precision, pressing soft kisses against his cheek before disappearing into a snap of iridescent energy.

You hid behind a crate, concentrating as your gaze locked onto one of the heavy industrial light fixtures before pulling it down from the rafters, letting it crash next to where Dazai was standing.

"Wow," he mused, giving you a fake clap. "Had I been 12 feet closer, you might've actually gotten me."

He didn't have to know where you were hiding to know that he'd struck a nerve, a smaller lightbulb bursting in one of the overhead lights indicated that you heard him.

"Come here," he said, his voice softening a bit as he rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight. He barely had to side-step to dodge the tire that had been hurled his way. Your emotions were erratic but always predictable.

"Baby, c'mon. It's not my fault you have terrible aim. That's why we're here anyway, remember?"

There was a crackle of energy, another flash of steel blue before you finally reappeared in front of him, a pout that he was all-too familiar with looking back at him.

He bit back a laugh watching you sink into yourself.

"Look, it's about focus, okay?" His tone transitioned into something more serious as he took a slow step towards you. "As long as Mori sees you as his own personal project, I need you to be prepared for anything. You're gonna start getting sent on higher ranking missions sooner than later and I need to know that you're ready for that."

There was something about the way he said it– about the genuine concern coating his words that made your chest tighten.

You let your eyes meet his again as you nodded. "Okay," you breathed, the bratty rebuttal you had lined up promptly dying on the tip of your tongue as you took in his features. "What do you want me to do?"

"Teleport to me, we're going to go over intuition and reflexes."

You drew in a sharp breath before closing your eyes, electricity dancing along your skin as you accidentally snapped yourself directly in front of him so that you were chest to chest.

"Surely you wouldn't get this close to an enemy," he smirked, "but for argument's sake, let's say you did. Let's say you landed right in front of them, just like this and they –"

Without any time to think, Dazai had already reached into the inside of his coat pocket, the cold metal of his Beretta suddenly resting easily against your temple. “What now?” He whispered, looking down at you with provoking curiosity. "What are your instincts telling you to do?"

It wasn't the first time you'd had a gun drawn on you, but it was definitely the first time you'd had a gun drawn on you this... intimately. Your body betrayed you, displaced warmth migrating to your cheeks as you blinked back at him through heavy lashes. Your instincts were certainly there, they were just... all wrong.

Dazai caught your reaction immediately, the fleeting but unmistakable flicker of lust that washed over you.

"Oh?" He quipped, leaning down while pressing the barrel further into your delicate skin. "What’s this, huh?" His stare was equal parts predatory and incredulous as his eyes trailed over you, zeroing in on every small, subtle shift you made. The way your breathing had slowed, the goosebumps that decorated your arms, the way your hips couldn't help but tilt towards his ever-so slightly. "You like it, don't you? Like the way it feels when your life’s in my hands?”

"No, I'm–" You faltered, your words completely stolen by the knowing smirk that had cut across his face. "I'm just– thinking, is all."

"Thinking” he echoed, his other hand gently cradling your jawline as he forced you to keep your eyes locked with his. “And what exactly are you thinking about? Please, enlighten me.”

You had to bite back a smile, trying your best to mask your flimsy composure though you knew he could already see straight through it. "Strategy." You lied, jutting your bottom lip back out in faux innocence.

Dazai couldn't help the laugh that escaped him as he tilted his head towards yours, closing the already small gap between you. "Is that right?" He mused, his lips just barely grazing yours. "My diligent little ghost, always so focused."

You nodded back at him helplessly, his grin razor sharp as his hand trailed from your jaw to the back of your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcefully cocking your head to the side.

It earned him a yelp as he continued to hold his weapon to you. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?" His breath fanned across your skin, leaving a delirious static in its wake while his body pressed against yours, pinning you between him and a metal crate. "Your eyes give you away every time."

"Dazai..." It wasn't quite a moan, but alarmingly close to one as his lips found the nape of your neck, his teeth lightly sinking into you.

"This opens up all sorts of doors for us though, doesn't it?" His curiosity was reaching new heights, dangerous ones that he'd always tried to keep at bay, but now... the glazed over eyes staring back at him were giving him all the confirmation he never needed to keep going.

You nearly moaned into his mouth when he finally kissed you, your hands desperately tangling into the collar of his shirt as you pulled him in closer. Your movements urgent and beyond your control.

"Spread for me." He said between breaths, using his leg to coax yours apart. "I wanna see something."

You were so lost, so needy and overtaken by the feeling of him that you merely whimpered in response, not caring about anything else except for the feeling of his lips back on yours.

"Good girl," he exhaled, hiking your skirt up as he slowly began to slide his gun down along your face. "You trust me, don't you?"

“Always.” You said despite the way your legs were trembling, your nerves dancing with a vicious mix of excitement and fear as he traced the barrel of the gun over your puffy lips.

He angled his knee just right, giving your clit a much-needed brush of friction while you gradually parted your lips for him, welcoming the cold metal into your mouth.

Dazai had never been one for big acts of commitment, but watching you moan into his loaded Beretta made him realize that maybe he did need to know your ring size after all. Just in case.

"Look at you," he groaned, nearly losing himself to the sight of it. "So fucking gorgeous when you're at my mercy like this."

The praise went straight to your center, your body humming with dizzy want and unrelenting need as he carefully retracted it, his mouth dropping open watching the trail of spit that connected you to it break and drip graciously down your chin.

You were fulfilling fantasies of his that he thought he'd only ever get to dream of as he leaned into you again, letting you cling onto him tighter. The two of you worked in perfect feral synchronicity, him pulling the thin fabric of your underwear down over your thighs to help you step out of them before you kicked them out of reach.

"Osamu..." Your voice had been reduced down to a heady plea, one that he'd do anything in his power to satisfy.

"I’m right here.” He lulled, his grip tangled straight back into your hair while his mouth returned to yours, his other hand working on something much more... nefarious.

"Relax for me,” his voice was soft but commanding, laced with something that made you trust him though you knew you shouldn’t. “That's right. Just like that.”

Your pupils doubled in size as you felt the harsh metal begin to slip between your sensitive folds, your words suddenly eviscerated by the way he was staring down at you through dark, clouded eyes. How completely and utterly lost he looked as he spread you apart, a sense of desperation that you'd never quite seen from him before radiating off of each move he made.

"Oh...my god," Every last bit of logical thinking you had was gone, your mind and body both succumbing to the foreign sensation as he kept up a firm but gentle pace, running it uppp and dowwnnn in a way that made yours legs threaten to buckle.

"Dazai," you whined, your nails tearing into his shoulder for support as the motion became more fluid, your arousal acting as a shameful lubricant. You were almost embarrassed by how noticeable it was, how easy it was for him to glide it across you and how loud you’d gotten as you tried to bury your face into his chest.

Dazai, on the other hand, was on cloud nine. Only ascending further into the heavens with each lewd, begging little whimper that spilled out of you. "Do you have any idea how perfect you are?" He soothed, kissing and nipping at your collarbone while you started to find a rhythm, the steel still sending chills down your spine each time it brushed across your overstimulated clit. "I don't think you do," he groaned, "I really don't think you fucking understand what you do to me."

Getting praised by him to any degree always had a way of bringing you to the edge, but this... this was a type of euphoria that you didn't even know existed.

“You know the safety’s off?” He purred against your neck, his heart slamming into his chest as he watched the pouty, pleading look that had taken over you. The same one he’d seen so many times before but never quite like this.

Your slick was practically dripping onto his fingers the more he taunted you, your center greedily searching for release as your hips rocked up towards him.

“All it would take is one little slip, you know.” He was tortuously intoxicating, bringing you to your breaking point by whispering the most infernal little nothings. “With how soaked my fingers are, it’s almost like you want me to. Like you’re just begging for me to-”

Your entire body shook by his last threat, your brows knitting together while you frantically pulled him closer, repeating his name like a prayer in the small space between you. In all his time with you, he'd never seen you this undone before, this fucking beautiful and pathetic. There was something about it, about knowing that he was the only one who would ever get this type of blind obedience out of you that made something inside him ache.

“Dazai ~!”

The whine you let out was so heavy your eyes nearly crossed, more incoherent obscenities bouncing off the concrete floors.

Your cunt was pulsating, absolutely desperate for something to fill it as the orgasm hit you in waves, the rigidness of his gun still sending shockwaves through your thighs. There was a sense of pride and awe that crept over him at how well you responded to him, how overwhelmingly easy it was to break you.

"You're so pretty." He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead as he meticulously drifted the weapon back up over your stomach with a small grin. "Fucking insane, but so, so pretty."

You smiled breathlessly back at him, the loaded gun against your body completely forgotten by the weight of his compliment. “You think so?"

“Oh, I know so,” he smirked against your neck, freeing himself from his pants as his teeth sank into your skin. "You just came to the idea of me killing you and now you're all heart-eyed asking me if I really think you're pretty or not." He let out a semblance of a laugh, propping you up to wedge you against the crate again while your legs wrapped around him for support, his Beretta now resting tenderly under your chin. "My sweet girl... you're almost as deranged as I am."

The pink that swept across your face only added to the long list of reasons you were able to hold his attention. You were innocence mixed with sin. Naivety mixed with lust. He was holding a loaded gun to your head and you were all but saying “thank you.”

Your blush deepened as he prodded at your entrance, your eyes glazing over at how thoroughly his tip stretched you. “Dazai –” you whined, both of you reeling from how faithfully your walls sucked him in.

“What is it, angel?” His tone was thick with mockery, his finger resting lazily on the trigger as your nails met his back again. “Feel good?"

You nodded back at him, lips parting the deeper he went. “So good,” you exhaled, your back arching to invite him in more as he thrusted into you. “So fucking good.”

He watched you intently, his dark eyes nearly burning holes into your skin with how fervent his movements had become.

He was drowning in you, both physically and mentally– sinking further and further into the way you welcomed every part of him, both the good and bad. Even with the possibility of death looming over you, your only focus was him. The rest of the world, the threat of your life ending with one easy slip of a finger– none of it mattered as long as it was him that pulled the trigger.

"You'd let me, wouldn't you?" His voice was venomous, gentle enough to subdue you but still poisonous enough to seep into your veins without detection. "You'd let me be the one that to make that fragile heart of yours stop beating."

The answer was written all over of your face, evident in the way your core clenched around him the further he pushed.

You were soaking him, letting out the most gorgeous fucked-out noises he'd ever heard as he continued to wrap around your mind like the serpent that he was, robbing you of the last bit of dignity you had left.

"Say it." Dazai commanded, his thrusts becoming more punishing. "Let me fucking hear, it baby." He was just as lost as you were, riding a high he'd never experienced before as his hips met yours with untamed urgency.

"I –" Your vision blurred, your thighs trembling while his tip relentlessly slammed into your sweet spot. You could barely form a thought, let alone a sentence, his dark stare the only thing keeping you tethered to the room. "I– would." you finally choked out, almost drooling from how deep he suddenly was. "Dazai please, I'd– let you. I'd let you do anything, any... thing."

It wasn't the first time that he'd had someone beg while under the scope of his gun– some had begged him to spare their lives. Some had begged for him to just end it altogether. But no one had ever begged out of... love.

The noise he made was guttural, primal as his lips crashed into yours, his resolve crumbling entirely. His forehead pressed against yours while your walls spasmed around him like a vice, your core unravelling in a way that made him forget all of his senses.

You were smothering him, your nails tearing into his skin as your broken voice sang out his name like he'd trained you to do.

"There it is," he almost wasn't sure if it was you or himself he was saying it to as he began to twitch inside you. "There it– is, baby. Keep going. Don't stop." He was falling straight into the same abyss you were, the two of you tumbling hand in hand into a seemingly never-ending void of bliss.

"You're mine," he promised, letting his body seal the vow he was creating as he watched a desperate kind of sincerity settle over your features.

"Yours." you repeated softly, eyes full of conviction.

His chest heaved as he buried the last of his logical thinking and carnal desires into you at once. A damning warmth suddenly coating your walls while he slowly retracted the gun away from you and replaced it something much more sinister– affection.

His fingers gently traced over the side of your cheek as your uneven breathing mingled together. "Deranged." He panted with a faint smirk, "Certifiably insane."

You merely smiled as he pulled out of you, carefully getting you back to your feet. "And yours." You reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah," he teased, kneeling down to grab your discarded underwear. "Just stay still for me." He was tentative as he helped you redress, adjusting and smoothing down your skirt while stealing proud glances at the mess he'd left dripping down your leg.

You quietly admired him, noting the tenderness in the way he handled you as you stood perfectly still, only moving when he’d guide you.

Your brows furrowed slightly when he stood back up and pulled his Beretta out of his pocket again, opening the chamber to let a bullet fall into his hand. "Here," he said, offering it to you, "a little keepsake. Maybe you can turn it into a necklace or something."

You held it up to the light like it was a precious stone, your jewelry box back at Port Mafia suddenly calling your name as your brain danced with ideas of how to turn it into something even more beautiful.

Dazai couldn't help but grin as he watched you twirl it between your fingers with all of the delicacy in the world, your eyes wide with wonder.

It was fitting, he thought, the way you were able to make art out of even the most broken things.

⋆.𐙚˚

#rem writes #bsd fanfic #osamu x reader #dazai osamu #bsd smut #dazai smut #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x fem reader #soukoku

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satellite-evans · 6 months ago

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you don't have to be sorry

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Summary: Harry learns why you refuse to let him pay, uncovering your painful past.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: past abusive relationship, little angst, fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Harry had always found joy in giving. Growing up, even when he didn’t have much, he’d learned that the look on someone’s face when you did something kind for them was worth more than anything money could buy. That lesson had carried over into his adult life, especially once his career took off and his world expanded in ways he’d never anticipated. He loved surprising his family with impromptu vacations, treating his friends to dinners just because, and going the extra mile to make everyone around him feel cared for.

When he met you, he found himself wanting to do those little things even more. Your smile was infectious, your laugh a melody he didn’t know he’d been missing until you came along. You were so strong, so independent, and it only made him more drawn to you, your kindness, and your spirit. From early on, he’d noticed that you carried yourself with an ease that spoke of someone who’d learned to take care of themselves, and he admired it. You were thoughtful, always prepared, and fiercely capable of handling things on your own.

Still, that didn’t stop Harry from wanting to treat you. From the beginning, he’d try to pick up the tab here and there, take you out for meals he knew you’d love, or surprise you with little things—your favorite flowers, a new book he thought you might enjoy. But each time he tried, you’d flash that polite, unwavering smile and insist on paying your own way. It wasn’t just a gesture, either. It was firm, unyielding, and Harry quickly learned that it was one boundary you weren’t willing to compromise.

He brushed it off at first, thinking maybe it was just the way you were. And in a way, he appreciated your independence. He knew you’d never take advantage of his generosity, and that was part of what made him feel so strongly for you. But as time went on, he couldn’t help but notice the subtle ways you’d tense up when he offered to pay, how your expression would harden slightly when he’d suggest covering the check. It was almost as if his offers triggered something in you, something you seemed determined to hide but couldn’t fully suppress.

And so, he kept quiet, telling himself not to pry, to respect your independence. Yet, as the months went on, he found that it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t that he wanted to be the one to pay, necessarily—it was that he wanted to feel like he could express his love without it feeling like a violation. He wanted you to feel comfortable enough to let him in, to let him care for you in a way that didn’t make you feel trapped.

One evening in late autumn, he planned a special dinner. The two of you had been talking about going to this small bistro on the outskirts of town for a while. It was an intimate spot with candle-lit tables and soft jazz playing in the background, and Harry knew you’d love it. The idea of spending a quiet, meaningful night there with you had stayed on his mind for weeks.

The evening was perfect. The glow from the restaurant’s lanterns bathed the room in a warm, amber light, casting a soft radiance on your face that made you look even more beautiful than usual. Your laughter floated through the air as you both shared stories and exchanged glances, and Harry felt the gentle comfort of being in your presence, something he’d come to treasure more than he’d ever thought possible.

When the bill finally arrived, he reached for it out of habit, ready to do what he’d long hoped to: treat you to something special, just because he wanted to. But, as always, you beat him to it, your card already in hand, that same polite but unwavering determination in your eyes.

“Please, love,” he murmured, placing a hand gently over yours before you could hand the card to the waiter. “Let me take care of this one, alright?”

Your smile faltered just for a second, and he saw a flicker of something in your eyes—something that didn’t quite match the confident independence you usually displayed. It was a look of hesitation, one that seemed out of place for you, and Harry couldn’t ignore it any longer. The moment was brief, gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough to stir his concern.

As the two of you walked out of the restaurant, Harry held your hand, feeling the cool night breeze brush against your skin as you strolled down the quiet, lamp-lit street. His mind was still on that moment at the table, the look in your eyes that hinted at something more, something you’d been keeping from him.

He stopped walking, gently pulling you to a halt beside him, his fingers still laced with yours as he looked down at you, his eyes soft and filled with a quiet concern.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice low, careful. “I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but… why don’t you ever let me pay? I know you’re independent, and I love that about you. But… it feels like there’s something more to it. Like you’re keeping something from me.”

You met his gaze for a moment, but quickly looked away, shifting under the weight of his words. He could see a hint of tension in your shoulders, the way your hand tightened slightly around his, as if you were bracing yourself against an invisible force.

“It’s… it’s not about you, Harry,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you know that. This is just… it’s something I’ve had to do for myself.”

He nodded, encouraging you to continue without saying a word. He could see you struggling to find the right words, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on you, as if the memories you carried were too painful to release.

“My last relationship was… it was complicated,” you finally said, your voice wavering slightly. “My ex… he was controlling. It wasn’t like this—it wasn’t done out of kindness, or love. It was… it was about power.”

Harry felt his heart sink as he watched you, his own feelings of helplessness swelling inside him as he realized just how deeply those past experiences had affected you. His fingers tightened around yours, as if to ground you, to remind you that he was there, listening.

“He… wouldn’t let me pay for anything either,” you continued, your gaze distant as if you were looking back at a memory you’d tried to bury. “He wouldn’t let me work. He’d tell me it was because he wanted to take care of me, but it was… it was more than that. He made sure I depended on him for everything. And whenever I used his money, he’d remind me that I wouldn’t have anything without him.”

You swallowed hard, the pain in your eyes raw, the vulnerability in your expression stark against the mask of strength you usually wore.

“It was like… like every time I let him pay, he took a piece of me with it. I felt like I was losing myself, one little piece at a time.”

Harry felt a swell of emotions surge through him, a mix of anger, sorrow, and helplessness. He hated the thought of you going through that, hated the idea that someone had taken advantage of your trust, had tried to mold you into something you weren’t. The thought of someone treating you that way filled him with a protective instinct he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Oh, love,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he reached up, gently brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you went through that. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

The warmth of his hand against your cheek was grounding, soothing, a reminder of the safety you felt with him—a safety that was new, unfamiliar, and terrifying in its own way. You looked up at him, feeling the walls you’d carefully built around yourself begin to crumble, the armor you’d worn to protect yourself falling away under the gentle strength of his gaze.

“I didn’t want to feel that way again,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath. “When I finally left, I promised myself I’d be independent, that I’d never let anyone have that kind of power over me again. I didn’t want to feel… trapped.”

Harry listened, his heart breaking for the pain you’d carried alone for so long. He wanted nothing more than to reach into those memories and erase every moment of hurt, to go back and shield you from the scars that man had left behind. But he knew he couldn’t change the past. All he could do was be here, fully and completely, for you now.

He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm, protective embrace, as if his presence could somehow shelter you from every painful memory, every scar that still lingered. You felt yourself relax in his hold, the tension in your body melting away as you allowed yourself to simply be, to feel safe, without fear.

He held you for what felt like an eternity, his hand gently rubbing your back in slow, comforting circles. Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders, his gaze filled with a tenderness that took your breath away.

" I'm sorry." You said in a whisper, almost unhearable to him. Almost.

“ Oh lovie. I’m here for you,” he said softly, his voice a gentle promise. “You don’t have to carry this alone. You don't have to be sorry. I’ll never make you feel that way, I promise. You’re safe with me.”

The sincerity in his words touched something deep within you, and for the first time, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could let go of the past. You took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders as you allowed yourself to lean into his warmth, to trust in the quiet strength of his presence.

“Thank you, Harry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of gratitude and relief. “I don’t think you know how much this means to me.”

He smiled, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as you continued your walk down the quiet street. The world around you felt different somehow, softer, brighter, as if the warmth of his love had transformed the cold night into something beautiful.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Harry glanced at you with a playful grin. “You know, I was thinking… if you keep insisting on paying for everything, I might just have to start charging you a fee for dating me.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh really? And what would that fee be?”

“Let’s see… one home-cooked dinner a month, plus unlimited cuddle time, and maybe a few spontaneous trips to the ice cream shop,” he replied, feigning seriousness with a cheeky smile.

“Sounds like a bargain, but you might want to raise your rates. I’m a high-maintenance girlfriend,” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “High-maintenance? lovie, I don’t know if I can handle that kind of pressure.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll throw in a free consultation on how to keep your wallet healthy. You know, just in case you want to save up for our future yacht,” you teased, your tone light.

“Ah, yes! The yacht. I’ll need a solid financial plan for that one,” he said, nodding dramatically. “Maybe we should just start a joint account: ‘Harry and Y/N’s Fund for Epic Adventures.’”

“Only if I get to choose the adventures,” you countered with a grin.

“Deal! Just promise me one thing,” he said, suddenly serious.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Promise you’ll never stop being you—independent, sassy, and always ready to take the lead when it comes to dinner bills,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

You laughed, feeling your heart swell. “Oh, I won’t! But fair warning: you’ll always be my favourite plus-one, even if you are a bit of a freeloader.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Freeloader? I’ll have you know, I bring a lot to this relationship—like charm, good looks, and the occasional serenade!”

“Okay, you’ve got a point there,” you conceded, shaking your head with a laugh. “But just wait until I hit the jackpot. You won’t know what hit you when I start treating you!”

With laughter and lightness in the air, you both continued your walk, the future feeling bright and filled with promise, all while playfully nudging each other along the way.

#fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you

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helianthus-tarot · 6 months ago

Text

FUTURE SPOUSE: Why will you choose to be in a relationship with them?

As written in the title; however this is mostly for people who hold a stronger feminine energy in their connection with their fs. I posted the extended version on my Patreon which includes why they will choose to be in a relationship with you 👀❤️ There are also other 80+ readings on Patreon so definitely check it out, pick a card reading is posted every week plus extra mini pac every month! 🎉

Disclaimer: Here | Instagram: Here

Instructions: Focus on the topic and ask yourself the question. Choose a number/picture that you feel the most drawn to or that you can’t stop looking at. Trust your intuition. May the message resonate. Let me know which pile you choose! Feedback is appreciated!

Like my readings? Tip here!

PILE 1

Why will you choose to be in a relationship with them: Ace of Swords Rx (Knight of Pentacles), The Lovers, 10 of Pentacles Rx (6 of Cups), 3 of Swords, The World.

For many of you, I don’t think you’ll think much before deciding to get into this relationship. The decision may be motivated by pure feelings and spiritual pull instead of logic and practicality. If you chose the same pile for the previous section, the spiritual pull is quite similar to what your person will be feeling, it’s just that... they will perhaps have a more grounded and pragmatic acceptance/view of it; “if we end up breaking up, that’s unfortunate, but the connection will be appreciated (by me) either way”. But your spiritual pull will come with some anxiety. It’s like, you will really want it to work. You’ll acknowledge that it may not be forever, you’ll know you would still learn from it and the connection would still be an important part of your life journey even if you guys ended up breaking up, but you’ll hope it won’t end; and this hope will be mixed with some anxiety, unlike your person’s (which will be imbued more with acceptance instead of worry).

Some of you will get into this connection because you are subconsciously motivated by a desire that stemmed from your childhood; something you lacked when you were a child. So if you didn't get paternal/maternal love, or stability growing up, your person might give off the vibe that they can give you that, and you’ll get drawn to them because of that. You will also be able to sense that this connection will be spiritually significant, spiritually enriching and that you will be able to grow through this and become wiser. Maybe your person is or looks intelligent and experienced, maybe they come from a different place/country, and it makes them appear like they hold a wealth of new experiences (to you) that can expand your world in some way. Like I said, I feel like you’ll mostly be guided by your intuition, maybe your soul will be seeking this lesson or this experience and it will recognise that your person can give you that.

Some of you will be guided by your own pain. This is quite similar to the message above, but this pain may be more related to romantic love instead of your childhood. If you have suffered a broken heart before, or has had bad experience in love, you’ll hold hope for a true love connection. And so when you meet this person and feel drawn to them, it’s likely that you’ll feel that this person is your person. Whether they are truly your The One or not, this doesn’t negate the possibility that your attraction to them may at least be partly driven by your old pain/wound. Just keep that in mind. Check in with yourself regularly. If we are drawn to something/someone because of old pain, this can put fear and anxiety of losing that thing/person in us, and it can make us behave in a way that is not really healthy. That’s all. It doesn’t make you a bad person, it doesn’t make your feelings for them any less real, it’s just that past pain can trigger some unhealthy behaviour if it goes unchecked.

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! Why will they choose to be in a relationship with you? Will it be love at first sight for them? Will it be because of what you bring into their life? Find out here! ❤️

PILE 2

Why will you choose to be in a relationship with them: 3 of Swords (The Sun), The Devil, Death, The High Priestess, 6 of Wands.

I’m addressing this reading from the perspective of the person who’s got a stronger feminine energy in this connection. I think for many of you, you will choose them because you think they can provide relief from your pain, like, they will end that difficult period of life for you. For some of you, your person may not appear that way. Usually when we think about people who can provide relief, it probably makes sense to imagine someone who is calm and gentle and peaceful, right? But this person does not come across that way, especially if you choose the same pile for the previous section. Your person comes across fiery; there’s this unapologetic conviction and confidence about them, they are ruthless too sometimes, and could be very goal-oriented. But somehow you will feel like they can soothe your pain, and that’s why you will get into a relationship with them. Some of you will actually love those traits; you will like them rough around the edges, you will like them a little arrogant and uncompromising, you will like their control and their intensity.

You will also be intuitively drawn to this person; there will be that instant, spiritual or intuitive awareness of their presence and their potential significance in your life. It is also possible that you’ll feel understood when you are with them, or you’ll feel like they can see through you or they can see the real you. So there will be this deep bond between you two, it will sometimes feel unexplainable, it will sometimes feel like they are the only person for you and you them, it will feel Scorpionic. The type of connection where your eyes meet across the room, the type of connection where you are aware of their presence without having to turn around and look for them, you know they’ve entered the room. Sometimes you guys may annoy each other but your gaze will often get pulled in their direction. Something very mystical and deep like that. Those are the reasons why you’ll choose them.

Since this is a general reading, for some of you, this may be a little toxic (i.e. toxic attraction) so just be aware of that. For others of you, this relationship isn’t toxic (your person may have some questionable traits tho), but you may be right that they can give you want you need/want. Whether or not this attraction is toxic, some of you may also grow obsessive, and this connection can turn unhealthy if you are not careful. You guys will probably have some Pluto contact somewhere in your charts.

PILE 3

Why will you choose to be in a relationship with them: 7 of Pentacles, Knight of Wands, The Star, Ace of Cups, The Hermit Rx (8 of Pentacles, The Moon).

Some of you may have a tendency to get caught up in doing inner work. You know, some people keep watching or consuming content about self-improvement or shadow work, but they don’t really act on the info; they keep consuming it, and as a result they... kinda stay there? This either makes them feel like they are doing something, or it slows them down and it pulls them away from actually living their lives. You may be like that. Some of you may have a belief that you need to work on yourself to be deserving of love, or a belief that you need to change before you can experience love. Some of you are thinkers, you spend a lot of time in your head, trying to understand yourself and the world over and over and you have a tendency to stay there. This person will bring you out of your own head, or you will feel that way when you are with them. And that’s one of the reasons why you will choose them.

Directly or indirectly, they will make you want to live life to the fullest, to explore things in life and to experience a connection with someone. They will not take away your desire for self-improvement, or distracting you from your inner work; you will still do these, but you won’t just do them and stay stuck at home/in your bubble, you will also go out and live your life. They will make you feel excited about taking actions, about trying new things, about going after your goals and taking risks of seeing your desire/vision materialise. They will make you want to try and experiment, and they will make you feel calm and at peace while you do these things. They will open up possibilities and broaden your horizons. You will also feel more confident around them, more accepting of yourself including your flaws, more honest with your feelings and your shortcomings. If you struggle with self-love, I think you will feel the desire to love yourself more whenever you are around them.

You will also feel more emotionally fulfilled with them, hence why you’ll choose to get into a relationship with them. They will ‘make’ you feel carefree, happy, and very in touch with your emotions. You will feel spiritually and emotionally enlightened too, being able to see the bigger picture and being able to retain your trust in the Universe and Life, instead of feeling dragged down by all the (inner) work you have to do. So basically, you will not just focus on the negative and serious part of life, you will be able to balance it out with something more optimistic and fulfilling because of your person’s influence. That’s why you’ll choose them.

PILE 4

Why will you choose to be in a relationship with them: The High Priestess, 8 of Pentacles, The Fool, 4 of Wands.

I think there will be a balance between inner work / self-improvement and enjoying life, which is quite similar to one of the other piles, but not completely the same. I think you will like that they ‘make’ you think; there will be things that they say or do that will make you go inward and get closer to who you truly are. It feels like being with them will make your inner voice clearer, like, you can hear it better and thus you can follow it. They are probably wise, or you will learn a lot from them, and this will make you feel motivated to work on yourself, to do something with your life, to enrich your life, to try again or to try new things. So the connection will make you feel enlightened yet carefree (instead of being weighed down by your knowledge), serious yet light-hearted, committed yet experimental. You will move back and forth between these two energies, they will work seamlessly.

You will choose them because they make you feel understood and seen, in a way that not many people have been able to do. You will choose them because subconsciously you are also intuitively drawn to them. It’s not that they are mysterious (although they could be), but the connection or your interactions with each other have this enchanting quality that makes you want to sit and talk for hours and sift every section of their mind. There will be soul intimacy that makes you choose them. You will also feel welcomed by them, they will open their arms to you, no resistance at all, so you will feel like you can move towards them very easily. This person could be charming, to be honest. There’s just something with the way they smile or the way they make you feel comfortable and the way they accommodate you. It will feel like they want you to be with them, and you will see no reason why you should resist that.

You will also feel like you can reach for the stars when you are around them. They will ‘make’ you believe in yourself, in something better, in the possibility that you can get what you want, in the possibility that you can build the life that you want. For some of you, your person may also welcome you into their social circle or family before you guys get into a relationship, they could share their connections with you and let you be a part of their life, so you’ll see what it feels like being with them. And it all may feel very harmonious and joyful, maybe you will feel welcomed and supported (if not by other people, you know your person is there with you to support you; it’ll feel like they won’t leave you alone in this crowd but they will give you some independence and freedom to explore for yourself). It’s like them showing their world to you and gently pressing their hand on your back, encouraging you to take a step forward. This whole thing will make you want to be with them.

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarotblr #future spouse #tarot readers #tarot community #divination #pick a picture #free tarot readings #pick an image #love tarot readings #free tarot #pac #future spouse tarot #love tarot

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purple-plum-petals · 5 months ago

Note

Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!

⊱ Those Three Words ⊰ || Mr. Silvair X Reader

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Route End: Mr. Silver Hair 1), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror-Elements), Cultural Barriers (Mr. Silvair Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Slight Angst, Pre-Established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~3,280 Request: “Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!” Author’s Note: Mr. Silvair!!! He’s genuinely so pretty, y’all – it’s not fair. 😔 I find his overall character to be quite fascinating, and a part of me is really hoping the game gets a DLC or something to further expand on each of the character’s lore (and more moments with the MC, of course). Like game, what do you mean that some of the monsters may have been humans while others probably never were?? I desperately need more food… I headcanon that Mr. Silvair was either 1. never human, or 2. has been in the other world for a very long time, resulting in the loss of his memory as a human which could be why he’s so interested in researching them/maintaining the MC’s humanity. 🤔 But that’s just a theory – a game theory! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

Even after everything that had happened between you and this world’s resident human-enjoyer, you surprisingly still felt at ease with Mr. Silvair. That comfortability, though, made you think hard about your sanity. After all, it probably wasn’t normal to be comfortable around someone who enjoyed taking you apart and watching your body put itself back together over and over again. Yet, you did, and you didn’t mind your current arrangement as much as you probably would have in the past.

Mr. Silvair’s home was destroyed in a fiery explosion (courtesy of himself), so you had offered to help him find a new one. You managed to locate a large room, one that he deemed satisfactory enough to call his base, and you had been staying with him indefinitely since then. As long as you had a comfy bed to lay in and someone else to keep you company, you were happy.

Your other friends(?) frequently stopped by as well to say hello, the most common ones being Mr. Crawling and Mr. Chopped. While you were occasionally hit with a feeling of loneliness, it was hard to feel that way with so many friendly faces around. Well… maybe their faces weren’t that friendly, but they were kind and gentle with you, and that’s what truly mattered.

You hear the sound of Mr. Silvair moving around in the room adjacent to the one you typically stayed in, and you wonder to yourself what his plans for today are. The tall, long-haired man spent most of his time engaged in research. You didn’t see him as frequently as one would expect despite the fact you two were practically roommates. All you could do was hope he wasn’t messing around with and subsequently angering any more terrifying, violent ghosts. You enjoyed your current home, and going out to look for another one wasn’t very high on your list of things to do.

The Rubik’s Cube in your hand was still as scattered as ever, and it seemed like, no matter how long you spent trying to solve it, you were only able to successfully complete one side. Mr. Masque was kind enough to give it to you (he apparently had a whole stash of the things somewhere), and his gift was something you were immensely grateful for. Attempting to figure out the puzzle helped you pass the time wherever you were alone (and it most likely helped you keep your head on straight).

You’re currently lying flat on your back atop the plush bed in the relatively empty living space, looking up at the gray concrete ceiling with a blank stare. Once you decide you’ve loafed around for long enough, you stand up slowly from the bed, placing the cube gently on the covers of the cot. You stretch your arms above your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat at the movement of your stiff muscles, and you begin to make your way to the other room where your…

What even was Mr. Silvair to you? While yes, you were fond of him – hell, you’d go as far as to say you loved him – you knew he didn’t feel the same. You remember the moment he told you “I not understand like”, and that he didn’t want to save you from your condition, no… he found you entertaining to keep around, and that’s why he did what he did.

It was complicated, you thought, trying to have a relationship with a being who didn’t grasp what the concept of love was. Deep down, though, you knew you wouldn’t change it for the world. He enjoyed your presence, and that was all you could ask for.

You walk over to the metal door and knock, waiting for a response. After a moment, you hear Mr. Silvair’s voice echo, “Enter.”

The door opens with a slight creak as you twist the knob, peeking your head inside the somewhat grimy space. The room, still fairly new, didn’t have as much blood or gore as his old one did. There were fresh stains on the floor and wall, you noted, and you couldn’t help but wonder who or what they were from exactly. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, though, so you didn’t bother asking.

You grin up at the taller man and give him a small wave, saying softly, “Hello. I not bother?”

He returns your smile, placing the scalpel in his hand on the stainless steel tray that held a variety of medical tools. It looked like he was in the process of cleaning the many, typically blood-stained, pieces of equipment. Mr. Silvair turns to face you and replies gently, “Hello. You not bother. Enter.”

Tilting his head to one side, his long, silver locks move when he does, cascading down his head and slipping off his shoulder at the movement. His smile drops slightly before he asks, “Feeling unwell? Injured? Need cure?”

“No, no cure.” You quickly say, not quite in the mood to be dissected or taken apart right now (honestly, though, you never really were, even if you did understand why it needed to be done). You pause by the door before finally shutting it behind you, the both of you now alone in the private and secluded space.

Ugh – why was it so hard to say what was on your mind??

After taking a moment to build up your confidence, you tell Mr. Silvair while fidgeting with the rubber of the clear raincoat you wore, “I want see you. Communicate.”

He hums and smiles at your admission, walking over to you before placing a calloused hand on your face. Your eyes close on instinct, and your breathing shutters when he rubs his thumb across your cheek. A part of you wanted to be annoyed with him since he had to be aware of the effect he had on you, yet you didn’t want to run the risk of him removing his cool palm from your skin, so you kept your mouth shut.

It had taken quite some time for Mr. Silvair to get to this point of physical affection with you (something he began doing more often after he saw how much you enjoyed getting head-pats from Mr. Crawling), so you didn’t want to ruin any progress you two had made in your complicated and unconventional relationship.

“Okay,” Mr. Silvar starts, removing his hand from your face as he gestures to one of the two chairs in the room. He smiles down at you before saying, “Sit. We communicate.”

You do as you’re told without speaking another word, your hands folded in your lap after you sit down, watching Mr. Silvair take a seat on the chair across from you. You talk with him for quite some time, doing your best to update him on your current progress with the puzzle since that was pretty much the only thing you had going on in your life. While it wasn’t satisfying to speak in the other world’s language because it tended to miss most of the nuances of speech, it was the only way the two of you could communicate.

Mr. Silvair seemed to pick up on your frustration, seeing you were growing annoyed at the lack of words in your arsenal – the term you were looking for wasn't coming to mind. In response, he tilts his head to the side and asks you, “You upset. Why?”

“Not right words.” You reply, brows furrowed when you look up at him, your gaze landing on the bloody bandages wrapped around his eyes. You turn your head to look down at the floor, the somewhat fresh pool of blood perfectly matching the color of the Rubik’s Cube. You point to the puddle and turn to ask Mr. Silvair, “What’s this called in your language? Can you tell me how to say this color?”

“Blood.” Mr. Silvair responds, not understanding what you wanted him to explain.

“No, no.” You quickly reply, shaking your head. You continue to glance between him and the blood, enunciating your words even though he didn’t understand your language the same way you were able to understand his. You didn’t back down or give up, though, saying again, “The color – I want to know what color blood is.”

He pauses, one hand under his chin as he seemingly takes a moment to figure out what you are asking him. After a few beats, Mr. Silvair replies with a word you haven’t heard anyone speak before, “???”

You visibly brighten at the new word, and the expression on your face causes Mr. Silvair to let out a light chuckle before he crosses one of his legs over the other. You take a breath before telling him, “Okay. Thank you.”

After another pause, you continue to speak, “So… One part object done, red part. Other parts hard – not finish.”

Mr. Silvair had been leaning forward in his chair, his elbow digging into his knee while his hand rested under his chin, holding his head up as he stared at you with an unwavering gaze. He always listened to you with rapt interest, and you would be lying if you said the constant attention didn’t make your heart stutter in your chest. However, he suddenly speaks, pointing to the pool of blood you had been gesturing toward moments before, “What you call that?”

“Huh?” You ask, pausing your story to look at him. Mr. Silvair doesn’t say anything else, though, giving you a moment to comprehend what he has asked you. You perk up when your brain finally registers what Mr. Silvair had said, replying to him happily, “Oh, that’s the color red. So, blood is typically red – blood red.”

“R-ehd?” He echos, and the sound of his voice speaking a word that you were able to understand without having to flip through your mental dictionary had your breath hitching. It sounded so strange but so nice coming from his lips.

“Yeah, red! Blood is red!” You say, sounding excited and oh-so happy. Mr. Silvair would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find the look on your face and the tone of your voice endearing. Then, your expression shifts slightly as you lean forward in your chair, saying enthusiastically, “Oh my god – I just got an idea! Me teach you me language!”

“...You language?” Mr. Silvair asks after a moment, shifting in his seat slightly.

“Yes! Me teach you!” You reply, gesturing to both him and you with your hands. Your mind remembers the way Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped helped you shortly after you first arrived, teaching you directions to walk, facial expressions, and more. They had helped you expand your knowledge of this world’s language, and they were probably responsible for your survival in so many of those early interactions. So, you smile at him as you say, “We same.”

He returns a smile, nodding his head and replying with a simple, “Okay.”

“Alright, so, let me think here…” You hum to yourself, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes while you consider what you should start with. Body parts seemed to be the first thing that popped into your head, so that’s eventually what you decided to start with. Sitting up in the chair, you point toward your hand with the other, tapping a finger to your palm as you speak, “Okay, so, this is my hand – hand. Can you say hand?”

It was kind of cute, strangely enough, seeing Mr. Slivair take the time to repeat the word you spoke over and over in his mind, trying to match the movement of your mouth with his own. Your languages were quite different in sounds, syllables, and the like, so he was practicing what to say before actually speaking. After a few moments of contemplation, he replies, “...H-ah-nd.”

“Hey, that was pretty good! Not bad for your first try, Mr. Silvair, even if the pronunciation is a bit off.” You say with a wide smile, clapping your hands together as you applaud him on his efforts. He chuckles again, finding your way of teaching to be… sweet.

Then, you speak again, once again grabbing his attention. You tap the pad of your finger under the skin of your eye, asking him, “Do you remember what this is called? I think I’ve told you before.”

Mr. Silvair is quicker in his response this time, having heard you ask him about his own eyes before as he smoothly says, “Eye.”

“Yes! Good job!” You praise once more, giving him a thumbs up in response. Then, he stands up from his seat, walking over to you while his once-white lab coat flows behind him. You crane your head back to look up at him from where you were still sitting, a simple and stupid, “...Huh?” leaving your mouth.

Mr. Silvair reaches a hand to your face, cupping your chin gently in his hand. You feel his thumb resting on your bottom lip, and he begins to move his finger back and forth along the slightly chapped flesh, tugging at it slightly. He tilts his head to the side, asking you seriously, “What this called?”

“Oh, uh…” You know your face is probably flushed beyond belief at this point if the heat cascading through your head is anything to go by, and your mind and heart are completely caught off-guard by his sudden touch and question. You avert your gaze to the side, swallowing harshly before you finally reply, “They’re my lips – they’re, umm… similar to mouth. Lips, mouth, same.”

“...Lips?” Mr. Silvair asks again for clarification, his voice having an almost husky tone to it that has a shiver travel down your spine.

You nod in response, muttering a barely audible, “Yes…”

Mr. Silvair hums at your response, a small smile gracing his lips. He leans down, face so close to yours, before he inquires with an almost teasing tone to his voice, “You want touch?”

“Y-Yes.” You answer at an almost embarrassingly fast speed.

The man who you had grown so fond of chuckles at your enthusiasm before leaning forward, pressing his lips softly to yours while he holds your face between his palms. Kisses weren’t a common thing between the two of you, and they were really only something Mr. Silvair initiated when he felt like it. You could feel the intensity at which your heart was beasting due to his sudden affections, and there was a part of you that was worried it would burst out of your chest right then and there.

Your eyes flutter shut and you tilt your head to the side, your hands coming up to rest atop his – his hands that were holding your cheeks so, so gently. It was almost sickening the way he was holding you like you could break at any moment.

Then, almost as quickly as it began, the kiss ended before you even realized it did. Mr. Silvair’s forehead was now pressed against yours, and he doesn’t make any move to remove his hands from your face. Your lips were no longer touching, and yet he still lingered.

Mr. Silvair didn’t play fair, you thought, yet you couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to kiss you so suddenly, so randomly. You close your eyes and your brows furrow at the tightening in your throat, an aching sensation slowly spreading throughout your chest like a disease before you whisper, “...I love you.”

There’s a silence, a stretch of nothingness before Mr. Silvair suddenly asks you, his voice just as soft as yours had been, “Repeat?”

“...No,” Your response is nearly immediate, and you shake your head before repeating once more, “Nothing.”

“...I love you.” The sound of those three words leaving his lips nearly causes your mind to implode. It sounded so sweet, yet it also felt worse than any suffering you had experienced before. The searing and excruciating pain, the feeling of a blade digging itself into the flesh of your torso couldn’t compare to the deep-seated torment you felt right now.

Mr. Silvair hums, tilting his head to the side as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks, “What mean?”

You knew there was no point, no reason to try and explain your feelings again, but you do. You still do, even though you know it’s pointless to try. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you speak, finding the concrete floor more interesting, “Mean… mean me like you. Lot like.”

There’s a pause, a moment of contemplation before Mr. Silvair says, “...Not understand.”

“I know.” You reply, nodding your head once in response.

“You know?” He asks you, sounding somewhat confused, a tone you very rarely heard from the man. Had he forgotten that moment that you couldn’t seem to forget, the memory that you continuously found replaying in your mind like a broken record? It wasn’t fair, you thought, that only you were forced to hold onto such a painful memory.

“You communicate before.” You clarify, finally willing yourself to look at his face. Mr. Silvair’s expression was tight, his lips drawn into a flat line.

You needed to get away, to just run from this moment in the hopes he would forget the whole exchange just as he apparently did the last one. You take your hands and grab his wrists, removing his palms from your face before you stand up from the chair. You refuse to look at him as you turn, heading to the door as you utter, “...I’m going to go for a walk, so I’ll be back later. Goodbye.”

Then, you feel something tug at the sleeve of your raincoat. It wasn’t strong, nothing that would actually stop you from moving, but your legs proceeded to hault at the small action. Mr. Silvair says, his tone not demanding in the slightest – if anything, it sounded like a plea as he speaks, “No exit.”

You take a deep breath and turn around to face him, asking in such a small voice that it even caught yourself off-guard, “...Why?”

“I want you here.” Mr. Silvair responds quickly, so quickly it seems to have taken both of you by surprise. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he asks, finally releasing the material of your jacket from in between his fingers, “Stay… Will you stay?”

You once again find yourself wondering if Mr. Silvair was aware of the effect he had on you as a sigh leaves your mouth. You nod your head lightly and reply, “I will stay.”

“Good.” He says in response, a gentle smile on his face as he says for the second time, “I love you.”

You frown at him and shake your head, saying with a slight edge of frustration in your voice, “No speak. Not true.”

“True… Believe true.” He says quickly, reaching out to once again place a hand against your cheek. You don’t move, don’t flinch away from his touch – you still relish the way he’s holding you like a fragile piece of glass. Mr. Silvair’s brows are furrowed ever so slightly as he mutters, “Confused.”

“You’re telling me… How do you think I feel?” You say with a huff, your hand holding into his as you find yourself nuzzling your nose into his palm. The painful feeling in your chest was still present, but it wasn’t nearly as excruciating as it had been now. You find it in yourself to smile, gazing up at him as you speak, “...but we’ll get through it together – we together. Right?”

“To-geh-ther…” He repeats, leaning down to press his forehead to yours once more as he says softly, “Yes.”

#🌸 . plum writes #💌 . anon #homicipher #文字化化 #homicipher x reader #homicipher x you #mr silvair #mr silvair x reader #mr silvair x you #homicipher imagines #homicipher drabbles #imagines #drabble #one shot #fluff #x reader #reader insert

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just-a-ghost00 · 3 months ago

Text

Mirror, mirror on the wall

What does this connection reflect back to you ? What do you see in each other that either uplifts you or drags you down ?

To find out, select one of the following groups. You can either choose based on the imagery or the number. This reading’s content might be triggering. Read only if you are okay with it. Keep in mind that this is a general reading.

Group 1

5 of swords, knight of cups, Self love, Death rx, Sugilite - Stretch the limits of your imagination - You are not your emotions, Memories comfort us "I seek out happy people who inspire me to be great."

This reading feels very personal. I felt a pang in my chest as I was shuffling your cards. And the more I saw the picture that was being depicted, the more I felt like crying. I feel like a lot of you have spent most of your life repressing your emotions and feelings for the sake of others within connections, whether those were platonic or romantic. Specifically, I picked up on wounds surrounding a masculine parental figure. When interacting with this person, the truth reflected back to you is that you shouldn't have to fight for someone's attention or love. This connection helps you heal a feeling of unworthiness that stems from your childhood. It also reflects the fact that a relationship shouldn't be thriving at the expense of your own well being and happiness. That a connection should be a safe space where you can feel free to be yourself and expand in a way that feels good for you. That you shouldn't have to pretend to be someone else to be accepted.

What you see in this person is that a partner is supposed to uplift you, not hinder you. You see that going after your dreams and doing the things that make you happy isn't a crime. You learn that your emotions are valuable and are nothing to be ashamed of. In this person, you find a shelter. A place where you can lower your mask and shield to be your unapologetical self without fearing retribution. In this person, you see a friend. Someone that is willing to listen to what you have to say and help you see things from a brighter perspective instead of finding every reason why this could go wrong. You learn that your opinion matters. That your interests aren't useless. That it is safe to cry, to be sad or angry, to feel unmotivated or scared or uncertain. That you shouldn't have to apologize for how you feel or for who you are. In them, you find a confidant.

The reality that this connection reflects back to you is that your friends, your family, the people you admire and give your attention to may not be having your best interest at heart. Nor do they provide for you the safe space you need. That they take more than they give and never say sorry. This connection teaches you the importance of your own love and perception of yourself. The importance of re evaluating your boundaries, of being authentic and surrounding yourself with the people that are going to value your true essence instead of trying to dim your light and shape you into something you are not.

Extra - What do they see in you? | Page of cups, The Sage, Black Tourmaline - Protect your light, Relieve the pressure, "I am ready to go big rise up and step into my power."

They see a person with a kind and pure heart, who yearns to love and be loved equally. Someone with big dreams and goals that they never dared to achieve. A soft hearted individual whose potential goes beyond anything they could ever imagine and is afraid to share it with the world. They see a lot of sadness too. Fear even. But more than that, they see a lot of wisdom and grace. A level of maturity that cannot be rivaled. They see someone that has been holding back for far too long and deserves to be able to let go of everything that has been hurting them. Someone that needs protection because of all the pain they've been through. Someone that's tired of fighting and screaming for peace. They see someone who's afraid of opening their heart to love again, who would rather guard their heart strongly even if it meant being alone forever rather than risking getting hurt again. But at the same time, they see how much you crave to put an end to all of that because at the end of the day, you're just like any human. You want that fairytale ending.

Group 2

"I celebrate all the grateness in my life." 3 of wands, 7 of wands, Sunstone - Take back your shine, The Weaver rx, Love rx, Stand up for yourself, Yes!

I get a lot of root and sacral chakra energy from this group, which to me may relate to fears surrounding stability, material possessions, intimacy and the body. In past connections, you or your person may have dealt with a lot of people that abused them either for their possessions, their status or their body. You may also have dealt with people who cheated on you or people who did not accept your differences but still took advantage of you. I don't know why, but I kept wanting to mention the other person instead of focusing on your energy. So maybe you and your person have dealt with very similar wounds and situations in your life. The truth that is being reflected back to you is that being different isn't always a struggle. That in a connection, your boundaries should always be respected. That not wanting the same things as your partner doesn't make you a bad person. That you have the right to say no. You are also learning that you cannot control every aspect of the connection. That sometimes, in order for things to be working, you'll have to let your ego aside and find a common ground that is comfortable for both parties. You're also learning that needing space or going after your goals are things that can be beneficial both to you and your partner, that you shouldn't have to choose between both. You're learning that being on your guards all the time isn't in your best interest and that in order to receive you must be able to give as well. The truth reflected back to you is also that not everyone is out to get you.

In this person, you see a call for the unknown that challenges you but also motivates you. You see an opportunity for change and wisdom. You see an invitation to appreciate life at the fullest and an encouragement to open your heart to the present moment. This connection teaches you to take a leap of faith and walk forward with confidence, even if you do not know what the future holds. It teaches you to see all the little things in life that are worth rejoicing about and fighting for. It pushes you to embrace all your quirks and faults, even those you think your partner wouldn't like. To look at the future with hope in your eyes and disregard any person that might stand in your way or try to get you to doubt yourself. This connection inspires you to stand tall and proud and cultivate optimism. It helps you feel safe in your body and comfortable in your shoes. For some of you, it has opened your eyes about your sexual preferences and your identity. Some of you may have realized that you were queer thanks to this connection. For others, you are healing wounds regarding physical intimacy : you may be learning to embrace the fact that being physical with someone is something that isn't your cup of tea and that there's nothing wrong with it. Some may be discovering and exploring new aspects of their sexuality that they didn't get to try before because they were taught to be ashamed of their body, of their desires. This connection leads you to uproot any belief system that was hindering your light and drive. Also, you are learning to love your body more and cultivate your creativity.

Extra - What do they see in you? | Treat yourself eat whatever you want, 4 of wands, Reflect, Cavansite - Expand your consciousness, "My high vibe thoughts create health in my body peace in my mind and love in my heart."

They see someone with such energy and love for life that they can't help but smile. They also can't help but to recognize your strength and limitless potential. This person sees you as their equal. They see in you someone that has all the qualities in life to be successful but also all the qualities that they look for in a partner. They see your trustworthiness, your ambition, your optimism and creativity and they love it. They admire your wit and communication skills. They see your strength and your ability to persevere though the road is difficult. They see a person that will never give up no matter what people throw at them. And because of that, you have all their respect and support. They see how hard you try to make a name for yourself and embody the best version of you. They see your charisma, your curiosity. Every aspect of you that makes you you, in simple words. They just love all of you and they want that for themselves.

Group 3

"I breathe calmly and easily. I am safe in this moment." Page of wands, The Star, Versatility, Speak Truth, I can only count on myself, Stand up for yourself, Hiddenite - Claim your happy place

Through this connection, you're slowly realizing that you were made to believe that in order to make it through and thrive, you should hide your light and pretend like you didn't exist. Especially for those of you who were assigned female at birth. The truth that this connection reflects back to you is that it is safe for you to exist, make noise and take room. In this case, I am picking up on rejection wounds. You are also learning that you don't have to carry your load all alone. That asking for help is more than fine but more importantly that you don't need others to be told who you should or should not be. For a lot of you, I feel like a parental figure was very controlling around you and didn't let you make your own decisions. They always tried to make you feel less than or lead you to believe that you couldn't succeed without them. You are healing those wounds through this connection. It also reflects back at you your own creative power and wisdom. It shows you that the truth of your destiny lies within you and not outside of you. It encourages you to speak louder and find your voice in life's chatter. To write your own story.

It reflects back to you how people around you trigger your foundations and create a space for you that is unstable, unsafe. How their own lack of discernment and self confidence is affecting you, your dynamics with the world and your power to manifest your desired reality. It shows you that you don't have to abide by the rules to be respected and recognized. Actually, you don't even need to be recognized by anyone except yourself. This connection shows you the value of your own beliefs and desires, and gives you the strength and determination to fight for them.

Extra - What do they see in you? | Ace of cups rx, The Explorer, Turn your tongue 7 times in your mouth before speaking, Sodalite - Deepen your intuition, "I seek out happy people who inspire me to be great."

They see a lot of curiosity and drive to become a better version of yourself. They also see your fighting spirit and rebellious tendencies. They see that you want to surround yourself with things and people that make you feel good. That you are constantly seeking to improve. That you have gathered a lot of wisdom through experience and you're able to use it whenever trouble arises. However, they also see that you've put up walls around your heart that a hard to see through. They are aware that those walls, built to protect yourself, also prevent you from finding true happiness. They see that you are not emotionally available right now and that is a fact they cannot ignore. This person understands your need to protect yourself and admires this aspect of you. But they are also worried that this defense mechanism will stand in the way of your connection. They see that they should have to be very careful around you if they want to be able to earn your trust.

#just-a-ghost #pick a card #pac reading #tarot reading #spiritual pac #oracle cards

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mythblossoms · 2 months ago

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nebula

pairing: caleb x gn!reader content: first! kiss!, yearning & down bad caleb and reader, light teasing, nicknames (pip-squeak), two dummies (affectionate) in love, loose EPIC/Odyssey reference because it's me a/n: double posting today to BECAUSE IT IS LOVE DAY and this is dedicated to beloved @spiderlilypetals - happy valentine's day, i think you deserve the world and sweet nights cuddled up and looking at the stars ;u; wc: 1.6k

Solar systems begin with the collapse of a nebula, swirling clouds of dust and gas expanding, swelling, building until caving in on itself. Waves of energy rippling across space and time, clinging to the remnants and tugging them in and forming a new home.

Funny, Caleb thinks, that this is what loving you feels like.

Years spent memorizing the way your lips quirk up into a smile when he teases, the way you bit your lip when you were upset, how your eyes sparkled when sharing some new interest — moments building something in his heart until it caved in on itself and you became the center of his universe, the brightest star with the strongest pull, keeping him stable but spinning.

“Any one home?” your voice broke through the churning cloud of thoughts encasing his mind like a bright light, the slight nudge of his knee with your foot grounding him — as you sat curled up on your couch. “Is someone getting too sleepy?”

He grinned at you, lightly grabbing your ankle and squeezing. These light touches were familiar, safe. Contact that came easily after years of knowing each other. “Me? I wasn’t the one who stayed up late last night looking up best claw machine tactics.”

“Well, at least one of us is trying,” you scoffed, tucking cold toes under his thighs and crossing your arms. “Your skills are getting rusty. Might have to revoke your arcade membership.”

“Don’t pout, pip-squeak —” his hand grazed your knee before settling on the back of the couch, another barely there touch that sent a ripple of energy towards his heart. “Pretty sure those new plushies on your bed came from your very dedicated co-pilot.”

“You can’t always use your evol, you know.” You poked your tongue out at him. “It’s cheating.”

It was easy like this, hidden under the familiarity of teasing and the safety of nostalgia. You would laugh, poke him in the cheek, make some silly joke at his expense. And he would collect this moment, another star in the galaxy of you.

“And I’ll do it again,” he grinned. “Anything for you.” Only for you.

You yawned then, the late hour truly not lost on either of you. Your hands stretching above your head, the collar of his old sweatshirt loose on your shoulder.

“Remember the time we hung all those glow in the dark stars in my room?” You leaned in, head resting on your knees. Wistfulness lingered in your eyes, and Caleb’s heart stuttered - the gravitational pull of your gaze that strong.

And how could he forget. All day spent arranging those stars in different paths across your ceiling, every pillow, blanket, and plushie to be found pulled into a massive pile on the floor. The night spent creating stories about constellations found in the patterns crisscrossing the ceiling. The pale green glow of the stars reflected in your eyes, the atoms hovering in the smallest space between the two of you humming with the energy of a combusting star. A night sky for just the two of you. A memory so ingrained that he could feel that weighted charge clinging to his skin.

“What, you think I’d forget that?” He pinched your chin gently. “Someone wasn’t tall enough to put them on the ceiling so I had to do all the hard work”. He waited for the eye roll, the huff that would surely follow or the pillow that would be tossed his way. Safe he thought, easy.

The energy in the room had shifted, perhaps in the way you had looked at him or in some memory that had reawakened. The comfortable silence now thrumming in time with his beating heart. He wondered, briefly, could hear it? You sighed, wrapping your hand delicately around his, offering a gentle squeeze. “I miss it.”

Did you know the effect you had on him? Eyes closing as you relived the memory, fingers threading delicately with his. “I miss it being just me, and you, pretending like the stars were meant for us.” Caleb would pull every star out of the sky and hang it in your room, if it meant you were happy, if it meant your hand entwined perfectly with his.

“We don’t have to pretend anymore,” he said gently, his eyes speaking every word that drowned on his tongue. Simultaneously hoping you felt the weight of his words, wishing you would stay in your reverie. He moved imperceptibly closer, hovering on the boundary of what was familiar. “We could grab some blankets and look at the stars now.” His voice just above a whisper, the softness masking the slight quiver in his words.

You hummed, a soft content sound, squeezing his hand - a slight glimmer in your barely open eyes. “Don’t forget our plushies.”

Your balcony had become your very own cozy fort. Big pillows carefully arranged against the windows of your apartment, every blanket you owned layered up, plushies propped up in the optimal stargazing seat — and Caleb sat next to you. The warmth of his leg pressed against yours, the chilly night a distant memory. He was safety, a constant comfort entangled in your life - never just you, or just Caleb, but you and Caleb.

From here, the bright city lights hid most of the stars from view, only the brightest peeking out from their inky blanket. “I never thought it would be so hard to see the stars in the city,” you sighed curling into the blanket, pulling it up to your chin. “No stars means no stories.”

Caleb grinned then. “Are you sure? Look-” he pointed to two stars that shone brightly - directly across from each other in the night sky. “You don’t know the story of the man who couldn’t return home?”

He was always better at this, the lightheartedness, the ease in offering something to you. Even back then, pulling stories from nothing just to make you smile. And of course you did. Earnest hands pointing to each plastic star, words energetically tumbling out, his own warm smile. Could he see warmth dusting your cheeks then? The way your eyes widened with each knock of his knee?

His voice brought you back, the simplicity of a story much like before, but this time his voice was softer, the words more delicate. “Every time he tried to get home, some new obstacle blocked his path. Monsters and mayhem — but each time he would use his strength in strategies and calculations to pass them.”

You leaned in, enraptured, eyes focused on him as he gazed up at the night sky. “And each time he felt like it was too much, like giving up - he only had to think of her. His guiding light. His constant - always together, always tethered. No matter what happens, he would stop at nothing to be by her side. “

Truths always lie hidden in stories - offering a semblance of reality. You could feel that here too, tonight. Time had stopped, or was it moving too quickly? Outside your balcony everything was a blur, here it was just you and Caleb.

“Did he ever get home?” you barely heard your own voice.

He finally looked at you, brows knit together in some unreadable expression. “He did, but things weren’t the same. All those things he did to get home had changed him.”

Your fingers found his, easily - simply. Fitting together as they always had. “But she loved him all the same.”

You felt it now, the restraint. The way Caleb held his breath, how his body stilled. His eyes the only thing betraying him — flicking from yours, to your lips, down to your clasped hands. The soft sound of surprise that escaped him. A bundle of energy bound so tightly it threatened to implode.

“He was always hers too, right? Time can’t change that.” You moved closer, angling your head closer to his - warm breath against his cool cheek. “It’s always going to them.” It was always going to be Caleb and you.

The space between you felt too large, too charged with an energy that bound you and Caleb together. Closing the distance, you placed a tentative kiss on his jaw. His hand squeezed yours tighter, eyes fluttering shut — a slow shaky exhale released, as he leaned just slightly into your touch.

“Is this okay-” you hummed into the tender part of his neck. The flutter of his heartbeat strumming against the soft of your lips.

“More than okay,” he said hoarsely, fingers still laced tightly with yours — grounded in familiarity in the face of this gravitational shift.

“Okay,” you smiled, pinching his chin with your other hand - flitting small kisses against the length of his jaw and angling his lips towards yours. The space between so small but electric, sparking against the sensitive skin. He murmured your name, soft and pleading, before your lips met his.

Kissing Caleb felt like the universe had exploded - stars and cosmic dust swirling between as gravity rearranged, realigning into a place that was you and him and this moment only. Something new yet familiar. His hands once hesitant now desperate pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you, kisses becoming rushed, tongue tentatively brushing against yours.

Letting go was harder, Caleb chasing after your mouth - planting small kisses to your chin, the corners of your mouth.

“Just wait,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. “Don’t move.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, drawing lazy circles at the nape of his neck. “Why?”

“If you move, I’m worried I’ll wake up and this will all be some dream.” He whispered into your skin, hands playing with the ends of your hair.

Cradling his jaw, you moved him towards you again - kissing the worried space between his brows, the outer corners of his eyes, then lightly on lips. “I’m here.” Then, with a soft pinch of his chin again, “This is real.”

#love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace #love & deepspace #l&ds caleb #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb x you #kai𓂃🖊#c: caleb #valentines day ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡#spot the epic reference sorry ;u;

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bvidzsoo · 2 months ago

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Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

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copilot-crashout · 4 months ago

Note

haiii!! i just found ur blog thingy and I LOVE UR WRITING SO MUCH!!

erm is it possible for some daisuke x shy!reader hcs…. im soo starved of shy reader in this danfom……

Pairing: Daisuke x gn!reader

Content Warning: None!

[A/N]: This is so sweet! Thank you! (/▿＼ ) I didn't realise there was such a drought..!! Daisuke is one of the characters I struggle with writing, but I tried my best! I'll keep writing for him, for practice! ᕦ(˵•̀ᴥ•́˵)ᕤ

DAISUKE:

-> With Daisuke having such a boisterous personality, people would assume it would be hard for him to get along with someone so shy. Yet, it works out perfectly! You balance each other out, Daisuke becoming your voice when you don't feel able to speak up, and you becoming his leash for when his antics become too much for the rest of the crew.

-> During your first days on the Tulpar, you found yourself accustomed to the different personalities on the ship, including Daisuke. He found you to be the most interesting on the ship, although your skittish nature made it hard for him to connect with you. He grinned, creating a mission for himself. He would become your friend, no matter how shy you were!

-> Daisuke is a naturally clingy guy, a total sucker for any kind of physical touch. One morning, he slings his arm over your shoulder, pulling you in for a friendly conversation. He doesn't miss the way your pretty eyes don't quite meet his or the way you fidget with whatever your hands can grab onto. It captivates him. Was the lounge always this small, or was it just his proximity to you making the world seem so lacklustre in comparison?

-> He whines to Swansea, begging him for advice, pleading with puppy eyes for some tips on how to break through your shyness. All he gets in response is a whack on the head with a rough command to get back to work without his head in the clouds. If you're close to any of the other characters, he clumsily attempts to interrogate them, asking how they got you so comfortable around them.

-> Your shyness isn't bad! He just wants to get to know you, so he tries to break through initially. He's happy for you to stay reserved, so long as you spend time with him! If anything, he finds it cute. The way you stumble over your words, fidget with your clothes and blush when he does anything too forward. It gives him cuteness aggression. He wants to squish your cheeks together and litter kisses all over, eyes glistening with mirth as he feels you flounder under his touch.

-> Daisuke is a man of quality time. Whenever Swansea bats him away from work, you're the person he goes running to. Entwines his hand into yours while talking into your ear, rubbing soft circles into the back of your hand, the cold metal of his rings pressed into your palm as you walk laps around the ship. Nights on the Tulpar are spent coddled up in his room, Daisuke playing on his Game Boy as you watch, a pout on his face as he passes it over for your turn once he dies. He hugs you from behind, eyes focused on the small device... His heart still leaps at the way your breath hitched at how close he was, feeling his breath along your neck.

-> You're not one to talk much? Then, you're perfect at keeping secrets! He'll drag you along as he grows his ever-expanding sweetener collection. You're sat on the kitchen counter, keeping guard as Daisuke presses numbers into the machine with a giggle. These heists are way more fun with you by his side.

-> You'd be silly to think he wasn't awkward, either. Catch him slacking on work or caught in a mess of his own making, and you'll watch as Daisuke chuckles nervously, a pretty flush rising to his cheeks as he tries to play it cool. You dig that, right?

"Fancy seeing you here! Uh— Don't mind the mess! I got my work cut out for me."

Daisuke stumbles over his words, suavely leaning on the doorframe to the utility room, trying to cover the absolute carnage behind him. You didn't need to see the mess strewn across the floor, papers and tools spread in every which way. As he opens his mouth to speak again, he's cut off with a yell from Swansea. You feel the weight of a hand placed on your shoulder with a nervous chuckle, the man giving you a dorky, lopsided grin.

"Work calls. I'll see you in my room later... Right? Notlikethatunlessyouwantittobebut— ack! You know what I mean!"

He can't save himself, but he can always run, delaying having to hear your response for a few hours. Just enough time to bring his composure back. He gives you a nod and runs back into the utility, leaving you alone to wonder what the hell just happened.

-> You become a place of refuge for him. As much as he smiles, Daisuke knows he can't always keep it up. His worries for his future and family build up gradually, creating a weight that seats itself into his chest uncomfortably. Your shy nature allows him to feel safe, creating a soft atmosphere he could just melt into, rather than facing the roughness of everyday life. It lifts his worries if only for a moment. He talks to you about his future, hoping you can lend an ear. Of course, he'll do the same for you! Rest your head in his lap as you talk about your issues, and he'll happily listen, offering advice when he can, but more importantly, keeping you happy. You're a rare treasure, after all.

-> Platonic or romantic, you're a killer duo! He wouldn't trade your relationship for the world!

#mouthwashing x reader #daisuke x reader #daisuke mouthwashing #mouthwashing #gn!reader #gn reader #mw daisuke

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fleurriee · 2 years ago

Text

— wanted desires ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!pregnant reader

synopsis ; too worried about being rough on you, neteyam won’t allow himself to give into his desires, despite you having never looked more ravishing. but, it’s simply been too long for you, and you can hold yourself back no longer.

themes ; smut, fluff, established relationship (mates)

warnings ; explicit content: pregnant sex, p in v sex, breast play, nipple play, ear kissing, but all kinda sensual??

author’s note ; (in this, ive kinda just assumed that na’vi sleep naked) so this has slightly less dad!neteyam in it & more horny neteyam which im sorry about. i really can’t decide if im happy with it but i want to go along with the plans i have for this series & this was a chapter i’d planned a while back. i had originally planned this to be more smutty but as i started writing this i just couldn't bc even tho it's dad!neteyam who’s just 🥵 he'd be too scared to hurt you, so, we've ended up with this?? i PROMISE the next one is absolutely fucking adorable & will have everything people want when it comes to dad!neteyam!! this is part of my dad!neteyam series, which you can find in my masterlist below!

previous part ; next part

dad!neteyam series masterlist main masterlist request a fic!

Neteyam was everything you could've asked for... and more.

As you slowly but surely started to reach the end of your pregnancy, the last stages just looming over your shoulders, he was always there for you. You were becoming more irrational, and there was no doubt in your mind that you were annoying everyone you came into contact with. But, each and every one of them seemed to understand, and none better than Neteyam.

Your mate was constantly by your side - physically or mentally - tending to your every need and abiding by your every request. Hormones getting the better of you, you also started to take your problems and own annoyances out on him. It was completely unfair and it always made you feel incredibly guilty and horrible in the end, crying your eyes out in your mate's arms as all you could do was apologise profusely.

But, not once did he hold it against you. No - instead of taking every harsh word you uttered to him to heart, instead of truly believing that you meant them, he allowed the blows and the insults to be thrown his way, soaking them in until your temper died down and there was nothing but an exhausted, drained and broken girl in front of him. After that, he'd soothe your apologies, caging you in his arms protectively, stroking both the top of your head and your expanding stomach whilst he assured you he understood that you hadn't meant all those words, that it was okay.

He'd insist that he didn't mind taking such aggravation, not when you were doing all the hard work... not when you were carrying his entire world on your shoulders.

To no surprise of anyone, his family were as perfect as they could be, too, always either giving you a helping hand, or steering clear less they want to say the wrong thing. It was obvious from the very start of the stark differences between the two sides of Neteyam's - and, you guess, your own - family.

When it came to those that were always supportive and understanding, it was always the girls. Neytiri would constantly make sure that you were the most comfortable in any situation you found yourself in, wanting to ensure that the mother was safe and healthy before anything else; Kiri was, without fail, bringing you different concotions made by both herself and Mo'at that helped ease your pain and soothe your anxieties; and Tuk, consistently babbling about how excited she is to finally meet her niece or nephew, planning out how all she's going to do when they arrive is dote on them. Each of them had created their own roles to play in your pregnancy, and each one comfortably took your mind off the worries that were swirling around, believing that simply nothing could go wrong when you had such beautiful people around you all the time.

On the complete other side, there were the boys. Both Jake and Lo'ak were different stories compared to the rest of their families - whilst the two of them were as excited and eager to meet your baby, too, neither one of them wanted to really get too involved, something that didn't exactly bother you, rather just making you giggle at their reactions. They gave you as much space as possible, too scared to get too close in case they either annoyed you or did something wrong. Whilst Jake had done this many times before, gone through several of these similar experiences with his own mate, he didn't want to overstep any boundaries between yourself and his eldest son, considering he had no idea what it was like carrying a baby for so long. And, Lo'ak... Lo'ak was just scared of his older brother.

After all, you were now considered delicate, and they knew if something happened to you, they'd be on the feral side of Neteyam... something neither of them particularly wanted to experience any time soon.

But, there was one thing that you couldn't stand during all of this, and, surprisingly, it wasn't anyone else trying to help.

It was Neteyam, and the fact that he wouldn't touch you.

Way more often than you were used to, you found yourself feeling sexually frustrated, the only thing you needed being for yourself and Neteyam to be intimate in the same way that got you in this situation in the first place. You narrowed your sudden feelings down to the fact that it had been so long - whilst the two of you never really had sex all the time before becoming pregnant, after being denied of your wants for an excruciatingly long period of time now, you were slowly teetering over the edge.

And, it wasn't as though you weren't trying, either. Your attempts of kissing him sensually, gaining beautiful-sounding moans out of him before he forced himself away from you; touching him explicitly, feeling him shudder under your grasp, before he moved himself impossibly further away from you, eyes scrunched tight as he held himself back; laying yourself bare for him when he go home, before he sighed dejectedly and shook his head, doing his damn best to ignore you... all to waste.

Neteyam just couldn't stand the idea of hurting you or the baby.

Sure, you guess you could understand where he was coming from, too, considering neither of you had been in this situation before, having no idea if having sex could harm either one of you, and the both of you were too prideful to ask someone else about it. So, you were stuck in what felt like a never-ending loop, enjoying itself as it tortured you blissfully.

But, you had never been so frustrated in your entire life.

The day had, once again, been a long and tiring one for the two of you, trying to let sleep overtake your entire senses and succumb to the world beyond. You were lay down upon your mat, the two of you on your sides - something that always felt more comfortable against the pains in your stomach, so Neteyam was happy to oblige - as your mate's front curls into your figure, his tail automatically wrapping itself around your bump protectively, like it always did, like a ritual.

That's when you started to feel it.

Your mind was beginning to deny you of any sleep anyway, your arousal once again getting the better of you as it painted your wanted desires within the forefront of you mind's eye until there was nothing else you could think of. But, it seemed as though Neteyam was feeling something, too - a bulge poking against your lower back, throbbing gently every now and again like it was demanding your attention, like it was excited.

For a moment, you wondered if Neteyam had even noticed his own predicament, considering he was the one so desperate to not engage in this way, and now he's aching. It's ironic that the roles have suddenly reversed, and you wonder how next to play this out.

Taking in a shuddering breath when you feel his tail subconsciously stroke against your skin, you weigh up your options - you could either ignore it completely, knowing it'll be a fight to get him to give into you, allowing the sultry thoughts within your mind to be the only release you'd get... or, you could take control for yourself.

In no time at all, you decide upon the latter. It wasn't much of a decision to make, either, too wrapped up in the sensations you knew only he could give you, wanting nothing but him all over you.

You start of with the barest of movements, not wanting to completely pounce on him in surprise, knowing that if you did, he'd get angry. The best way to get him to give in was always going to be to get him weak. Fidgeting about in place, barely moving, you pretend as though you're subconsciously trying to get comfortable - after all, who was he to say that you weren't when carrying a Na'vi around constantly?

A small moan sounds behind you, under his breath like he hadn't meant for it to spill from his lips, but it already has you smirking slightly. Instantly, you know he wants this just as much as you do, and if your plan works how you intend it to, you'll both be falling asleep blissful and satisfied after too long of denying yourselves.

Your next step is start rubbing your ass against his bulge, but ensuring your movements stay slow, so as not to arouse him so suddenly. At the feel of him against you in such a sensual way, a breathy sigh leaves your lips, eyes fluttering closed as you forget how much you truly enjoyed the feel of his cock anywhere on you.

Just as you’re enjoying yourself, your ass continuing to rub painfully slow against his excitement, there's a rough hand placed firmly along the side of your hip. It's not too tight a grip, not wanting to hurt you or possibly bruise you, but it's enough to hold you down in place and stop your movements from carrying on any further. "Stop," Neteyam almost demands, voice gruff as though he's just woken up, which means he'd been dreaming about taking you like he always loved to.

His one word command does practically the complete opposite of its original purpose, however - instead of listening and giving into him, it only seems to fuel your fire, adding on to your already painful arousal. The way he said the word, sounding so authoritative and annoyed and just sexy has you wanting more, more, more. It definitely wasn't in his plans to have you reacting such a way, but you couldn't help yourself anymore, too far gone. This was the closest you'd been to one another in this way for too long.

Your response to him is a whimper, pathetic and pleading, as you force your hips to move once more despite him hand still placed firmly on you. When your ass brushes against his cock again, he hisses, the sensation no doubt sending him into overdrive, whilst his fingers hold a tighter grip, automatically indenting themselves into your skin.

"Please," you whine, breaths uneven and you were barely even touching each other. "Neteyam, please."

There's a brief moment of silence that lingers between the two of you as your words evaporate into the surrounding air, yourself guessing that it's now Neteyam's turn to weigh up the options set out before him. Unfortunately, he knows you like he knows the back of his own hand, meaning it's obvious straight away that you wont give in now that you're this close to getting what you want. Besides, despite having seen you plead for him to just touch you before you fell pregnant in a way that had him excited, he's never heard you like this - desperate, anguished, and downright aching.

It makes him feel more thrilled than he'd like to admit - especially to you, right in this moment.

With a sigh of defeat, Neteyam knows there's not much else he can do other than give you what you want - although, he could change how he does it. He removes his hand from your waist, tail staying still in its place like always, fidgeting about. You're unsure as to what exactly he's doing, not words or explanations exchanged, rather just letting him do what he wants. For a second, you wonder if your plan had backfired, and he was moving further away from you, or possibly even leaving. The thought has your heart aching in displeasure.

But, then all thoughts are wiped from your mind when you begin to feel a gentle prod against your soaked entrance, subconsciously lifting one of your legs slightly higher in the air at the sensation, before Neteyam is sheathing himself fully inside you. His hand closest to you wraps around your elevated leg to relieve you of the annoyance of lifting it up yourself. When all you can really feel is Neteyam, no longer empty but warm and full, a guttural moan escapes your lips before you can trap it, your hand coming up to slap over your mouth, eyes closed tightly as you take him whole.

You hadn't truly realised how long it had been since you last felt him this way until now. Curse him and his damn protective instincts.

In just seconds, you want nothing more than to chase more of that feeling, more of that euphoric sensation, rubbing yourself impossibly closer to him as the tip of his cock hits such a sweet spot, you're sure you're with the Great Mother in some type of beautiful heaven right now.

Before you can go any further, though, Neteyam's palm finds your hip again, stopping you in place and this time, you don't bother trying to hold yourself back. The whimpers and whines that leave your throat at such a denial are mewling and pitiful, writhing about to relieve yourself of his hold, but he's relentless. Somehow, his entire body is closer to you than it was last time, faces inches away from one another as he brings his lips to your ear. At first, all you can decipher are breathless pants as his chest heaves up and down from trying to hold himself back. "No," he grunts, puffing as he attempts to gain control once more, "we're not doing that. We're going to stay like this - that's the best I'll give you."

This time, it's a groan that falls from your lips, one that sounds almost painful but you're too annoyed to care, cursing out everything for Neteyam being such a gentleman. All you want is for him to fuck you - was that so much to ask? You're not even sure if the situation you've put yourselves in is any better than having nothing, either, because now you can feel all of him entirely, can feel how excited he is to finally be inside you as his cock throbs in pleasure at being snuggled between your walls. Now, it just feels like a taunt of what you could have.

He chuckles softly against your ear at your reaction, still having not moved - and he probably wouldn't now, not unless he wanted to really feel you. The teasing smile is wiped off his features after a second, however, and replaced by one of sympathy, words becoming softer than they were before. "I'm sorry, muntxate (wife), I really don't want to hurt you or our 'evenge (girl)."

There's just a brief split second where his loving words filter through you and knock your senses apart - of course, he wouldn't want to hurt his girls, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he ever did. The idea of anyone harming either of you drove him insane, let alone the cause of your pain being him. But, your fleeting emotions cascade into ones of just pure desire, filtering in one ear and out the other until your mind is nothing but a hazy cloud, panting desperately for more.

You give yourself a moment to just breathe, to not hyperventilate at the exultant feeling of him fully inside you. Neteyam assures that his grip stays firm against your hip, not wishing to relent against his own commands so easily, but he does rub his thumb in a soothing circle, painting your skin with a reminder of how much he loves both you and your child.

You're quick to move your hips again, eyes staying closed as you imagine everything he could be doing to you right now, rubbing yourself against him entirely. Immediately, your mate tightens his fingers in his grasp, a clear warning sign for you to stop in your teasing, to just bask in the embrace of one another and say that's enough.

Yet, it isn't enough. It's nowhere near being enough for you. There's a feeling of being slightly impressed at the restraint he's showing to you, and irritated all the same, until another idea comes to your mind.

Smiling a little smugly to yourself, already knowing what you're about to do next is something he definitely cannot resist based on the previous times you've done it, you clench your fluttering walls around his length, taking him whole and tightly. Your own actions cause a breath of blissful relief to pass through your slightly parted lips, loving the way you can feel his cock throb even more.

Another hiss sounds against your ear, his grip tightening, but this time, so does his tail as it continues to stay wrapped firmly around your bulging figure, the end vibrating in a fever of both agitation and anticipation. Even his body desires it, but he wont allow his mind to. He's starting to pant a little more frequently, too, now, like he's weakening at the seams, and that's when you know you have him exactly where you want him.

You continue to clench around him, bringing your hips up and down his length at a tantalisingly slow pace to ensure he feels every inch of you, hitting every spot of your walls. There's a feeling of triumph coursing through you when he no longer attempts to stop you in your teasing movements, knowing he's finally allowed himself to give into you entirely. Instead, the hand that was once gripping your hip snakes its way around your front, fondling against your breasts as he squeezes them sensually. When he moves to the other one, wanting to give it the same attention, he pinches your nipple, loving how sensitive they are due to your pregnant state, eliciting a deep moan from the back of your throat, no longer caring if anyone else can hear you.

"You're a little minx, you know that?" he taunts, words a harsh whisper against your ear but you don't care - not when the once slow movements between the two of you suddenly increase in their pace as Neteyam takes over. The alternating grip, too, against your breasts tightens, constantly squeezing them as he soaks in how swollen they feel. "Always getting what you want."

The tip of his cock repeatedly probes against that sweet, spongy part within you so beautifully as his thrusts continue to increase in their speed. Your mate almost feels feral with his actions, perhaps finally realising that he shouldn't have denied the two of you the pleasure of one another, not when you were so needy. Not wanting to stop clenching around him as he moves in and out of you in a relentless pace, you can feel your release quickly approaching already, no doubt having felt forsaken for so long - you're sensitive enough as it is being pregnant.

"Neteyam-" you moan beautifully, breathily, like a songcord to your mate's ears, sure he's never head you sound so ethereal before. You have to cut yourself off as you moan in pleasure when you start to feel his balls slapping sensually against your skin, the warm sensation within wrapping around you like a blanket, one you never want to get rid of.

He brings his head closer than it already was, burying his face within the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. Sometimes he wishes he could drown in your scent, more so than ever now that you're pregnant - somehow, you managed to emit an even more delicious scent than before. Sucking against your particular sweet spot he knows you adore having his attention on, he ensures to leave behind at least a small mark, wishing for the entire clan to know that you were his, even though you're carrying his firstborn, wanting to be sure.

Lips moving feverishly against your warm skin as he continues to fuck you at a pace that was relentless, your pleasing moans scratching against the back of your throat, he eventually finds himself at your ears, placing soft kisses against them. The sensation has them fluttering in satisfaction, but then he trails down to suck harshly against your jaw, and your breath stutters, whining. "Mmm," he hums against your skin, now resorting to placing gentle kisses when he was once rough. "What is it, sevin (pretty)?"

In all this time, whilst his mouth was focused elsewhere, not once had his thrusts faltered, loving the way you’re so drunk on him entirely.

"I'm - I'm so close, 'teyam," you mewl, eyes slightly rolling to back of your head as he grunts at yet another clench from you around his cock, before you close them shut when they start to tear up.

"I know," he agrees, words just a breathy whisper, already being able to understand how close you truly are from the way you feel around him. It feels like his mind is on fire as your walls flutter from being so close to release, clenching and unclenching around him, having lost its rhythm. His pants are becoming more erratic now, bearing down upon you, but it makes you feel alive. "I'm close, too."

Quickly, knowing that the two of you wont be able to last much longer, he brings his queue forward, the tendrils reaching out as he then connects it with your own awaiting one. Movements now becoming sloppy and uncoordinated, but continuing to hit right at your cervix, your eyes widen as you start to feel everything he currently is - all the love, the desire, the frustration - bathing in one another like two pieces of a puzzle only made for you two.

Burying his head back in the crook of your neck, hand moving down to caress your swollen baby bump - one that's just moons away from its expected day - he whispers sweet nothings against your skin, wanting to tattoo them into you so you'll never forget them. Words like I love you, you're so beautiful, I can't wait to make more, having you crooning somehow more than ever, feeling him peppering kisses to you now.

It's not long after that when the two of you are finally releasing together, explicit moans and grunts escaping your lips as your arousal's become spent. "Neteyam, Neteyam, Neteyam-" you repeat his name like a prayer, having never sounded more amazing to your mate.

You can feel the mixture of your cum with his against Neteyam's cock, awaiting the feeling of becoming empty and cold when he removes himself from you and lets it trickle between your thighs. But, nothing of the sort happens. Rather, your mate stays put, keeping his cock in your warmth, snug, and therefore, keeping all his cum pushed further in you - something he's always loved to do.

Eyes closed in bliss, mouth parted as you try to catch your breath, Neteyam gives your stomach a few tender taps, garnering your attention. Before you can fully move your head on your own, Neteyam's hand moves to cup the side of your face, bringing your noses together as you breathe one another in. He presses a forgiving kiss against your lips, letting them linger against one another, not wanting to pull away. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks, the worry and concern evident in both his tone, but also the way you notice his ears droop and eyes glaze over just at the thought.

Looking up at him, you give him the most loving smile you could muster, shaking your head adamantly. "No, ma'teyam," your words are gentle, soothing, "we're both okay, I promise." You make sure to kiss him again with the same softness he gave you, wanting to ensure he completely understood that you meant every word, that you were okay.

This time, when you pull away, he nuzzles your noses together in a domestic way he's started to do since a few moons ago - the same way he likes to do it with your stomach, like he's doing it with your daughter. Pressing his forehead against your own, his eyes never once leave yours, full of adoration and devotion. "I'm sorry I was neglecting you..."

Instantly, your heart sinks at his words, your hand moving up to caress his cheek soothingly like he does yours. You can hear the despair and brokenness behind his voice, and it only pains you further - Neteyam couldn't have been a better mate throughout this entire journey together, but he didn't understand that. He always thought he had to be perfect, that he had to do everything right straight away, but this was a journey you were experiencing for the first time together.

Neteyam couldn't neglect you if he tried. He's too doting, too domesticated, too tender to even think about doing such a thing.

"You do not need to apologise, my muntxatan (husband). I understand why you were worried - but you never neglected me, not once. You were just scared, and so am I..." you pause, your once sympathetic and caring expression turning teasing and menacing, "...but, now that we know that it doesn't do either of us any harm, maybe we could do it more often..."

He chuckles at your words, watching as you bite your lips in mock thought, attempting to hide the sultry smile playing at your lips. It's like your words instantly managed to clear his worry, feeling it dissipate at your loving reassurance, until his eyes were bright and his smile wide, looking down at you like you held the entire universe within you.

In a way, he supposed you did.

"I guess we could..." he relents, his own tone turning into one of teasing, too, smirking as he brings your faces closer into a sensual kiss. This one is all tongues and teeth clashing together, feverish in anticipation to experience more together now that the worries once clouding over the two of you had begun to part.

As his hands roam over your body, from your jaw, to your neck, to your breasts, and finally to your stomach, caressing every inch of your skin like you were a painting, he moves to hover over you, mindful not to put his weight on top of you. A giggle falls from your lips at his sudden change in demeanour, but that's soon swallowed by another deep kiss that has your breath dispersing almost immediately.

It was safe to say, with the amount of times the two of you came together as one just during that particular night, if you weren't pregnant beforehand, you definitely would've been after that.

taglist ;

@monahiiii @bakugouswaif @andraga12 @draiochtwrites @teyums @neteyamslovrr @tinkerbelle05 @netesanrr @lanasblood @camilo-uwu @queen190 @adrianarose7 @ttkttt @ayoungforeveruniverse-blog

#𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐑’s work ── ✎#neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam fluff #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam sully x you #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x fem reader #neteyam x pregnant reader #dad!neteyam #dad neteyam #dad neteyam series <3

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hiddengiggles · 3 months ago

Text

Let’s talk about consent and smart ways to play

Yes, consent can be revoked at any time. That’s normal and your boundaries should be reexamined regularly as part of your own check ins.

No, it doesn’t mean either party did anything wrong, it can just be a change of what either wants. Shaming either party for changing their mind serves no one. Don’t act like the person who was receiving the action is unfair or a “tease” for changing their mind. Don’t act like the person giving the action was bad or wrong for doing the thing for which they had consent at the time because you didn’t like it.

Yes, it’s awesome to be able to open yourself up and be vulnerable for different activities and kinks. When you don’t have a partner to engage with regularly, it can be thrilling to finally find a person to play with, I know.

No, blanket consent for EVERYTHING right from the jump is NOT a good idea. If you’re connecting with a play partner the first few times, start slow and expand. Feeling enough trust to give consent for some kinks can and probably should take time so uou can be really comfortably vulnerable

Yes, it is exciting to safely meet play partners from the online world when you are BOTH ready for it! When you’re safe about meeting (getting to know them slowly, setting a neutral meeting point, letting a few people know where you’re going and the name of your friend, etc) it can be a great way to get time with your kinks. When it isn’t forced, rushed, or for too long a time period, the organic connection can be magical!

No, you should not assume each party is on the same page unless you’ve communicated multiple times, especially in writing. If you had a phone call a month ago that talked about boundaries and assume all is well, you’re not actually playing safely. Some people write out rules, some BDSM players sometimes make it a “contract”, but a verbal conversation will not protect you or help you if worse comes to worst. This is especially important for partners still new to playing together. Record the hard conversations in some way.

Yes, you can start a conversation on boundaries and kinks with generalization. Example on my end, my husband and I both are okay with pictures and videos taken of us and posting them. In the early days of our relationship, we checked every time we played “Is it okay if I film this?” but after years together we’ve both agreed it’s okay to take them anytime, though we check with each other if we’re comfortable with what was captured regularly.

No, a general conversation is not enough. Continuing my example, we both have boundaries for ourselves and for each other to make sure we’re okay with it being posted (or sometimes sold). Earlier today, I put on a really pretty lingerie set for some birthday giggles. However, I stopped and asked “If you wanted to film this, would you be comfortable with me being seen in this publicly? Our usually boundaries call for a top and bottoms covering”. He paused, considered, and said no, so I put on a tank top and shorts too. Get specific with every aspect of your play, from your comfortable clothing levels, to where content can be posted, to areas you don’t want touched that day that you might normally be okay with otherwise. Assuming you already know the answer is not enough, say it again.

Consent is a lot bigger and more complicated than just this post, so talk about it A LOT with your partner(s). The biggest key to a good relationship in and out of kink (friendship, mentorship, romantic relationship) is to NEVER STOP TALKING. Communication is key, talk about your boundaries and consent over and over and over. They will change and grow, and so will you.

Mistakes and miscommunications will happen, but it’s important to talk about them like the grown people you are. A lot of consent issues with new partners aren’t malicious, they can easily stem from either party being unclear or simply not thinkinh to ask about something that could be a boundary issue. Unless it was a blatant “I KNEW the boundary and disregarded it purposely because I wanted to do it” situation, be an adult and talk about it. If you’re adult enough to be engaging in activities or kinks for adults, you need to follow through and talk about what went right and wrong. Learn and grow from the stuff you didn’t do as well before, accept responsibility for your part, and move on, with or without that partner.

#risk aware consensual kink #consent is sexy #safe sane consensual #rack #not quite sfw #tips and tricks

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peasofgreeniguess · 5 months ago

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Hi, hi, hi

So, I don't remember sending you an ask, and if I did, then ignore this one and focus on the other one!

So I ask for undertale bros, underfell bros, and horrotale bros.

In this scenario, they are In a relationship with reader (Separate but if it makes it eairr to make it poly then do so) and in this, they have been trying for a baby for almost 2 years. Suddenly, Reader gets pregnant and decided to surprise their loved one.

It can be simple like an actal bun in the oven intel they get it or something more challenging like a Scavenger hunt.

How will the boys react and how will they act during the pregnancy?

Please, again I say this. If you already have a request from me, don't worrie about this one and focus on the other one. (Unless this is one better then understandable)

Hope yiu have a safe day/noon/night/or where ever you are!

Alrighty! I love this ask—personally, I love when the reader and the boys have a little family. <33 there are not enough fanfics (that i can find) about it :((

AFAB reader and pregnancy headcannons below! But reader is still gender ambiguous so the trans boys and the he/hims can enjoy (like me, hehe, love you seahorses out there)

UT Sans.

You two weren't actively trying to conceive; hell, you two weren't even sure you could.

You and Sans had talked about wanting kids but never got further than that; that was until you started feeling weird.

Constantly tired and gaining weight, then you started constantly throwing up. Finally, you went to the doctor and got the results.

So here you are, sitting on the couch anxiously waiting for your mate sans to come home.

In your lap you hold a small wrapped box; inside you had a “world's best farter” shirt; only the farter was crossed out and spelled "father.”.

Finally the door unlocks, and sans walks in holding some Grilby’s bags.

“Hey babe, im home... you ok? You look upset,” sans says, his brows furrowing.

You shake your head, “im not upset, but i have something to tell you... you should really sit down.”

Sans does as hes told; sitting next to you on the couch, you place the box in his hands and urge him to open it.

He pulls out the shirt and reads it, confused.

“Im not a father though...” he asks, and you blankly stare at him. You forgot how dense your mate can be.

It takes a few moments before it clicks, his eyelights expanding as he looks at you in realization.

“Oh my god!”

“Yeah…”

His permagrin widens as he pulls you into a hug, tears brimming in his eyes.

You two hold each other for a few minutes, crying of joy. Sans immediately wants to tell everyone, but you urge him to wait until tomorrow; tonight you just want to be with him.

Either way, you both are extremely excited for your new little family.

-UT papyrus

“Dd- do you t-think you c-could be p-pregnatt?” alphys asks, rubbing your back as you hurl into the toilet for the fourth day in a row. You gasp for air as you wipe tears from your eyes.

“No… Monsters can't get humans pregnant... can they?” alphys shrugs.

And that's how you found out you were pregnant. Sitting on the floor of undyne and alphys bathroom as papyrus and undyne spar in the backyard.

Alpys was able to grab you a test from the store, and it came back positive. You stare at the two little lines for what feels like years... What would Papyrus say? You never talked about this stuff with him... and it never crossed your mind that you could get pregnant like that with a monster...

The back door opens, breaking you from your mini-spiral.

“What do you want to do?” Alphys asks quietly.

“I have to tell him... When we get home though,” Alpys nods, telling you to call her if you need anything.

You step out of the bathroom, trying to hide your anxiety and greet your boyfriend.

“Hi papy! How was training?”

"HELLO, MY LOVE! YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN IT, MY BEST SPAR YET!!” he boasts, undyne slaps him on the back playfully. "Yeah, CAUSE I LET YOU WIN, NERD!”

Undyne laughs as Papyrus rolls his eyes, gathering his things. “YES WELL, WE WILL SEE ABOUT THAT NEXT WEEK!”

The two of you bid your goodbyes and take the short trek home, Papyrus telling you all about his training with Undyne. After a few minutes, you both arrive at your shared apartment, locking the door behind you. You call Papyrus’s name.

He turns to you, noting your shaky voice with worry.

“Are You Alright?” he asks, lowering his voice.

"Um, I have to tell you something important,” you say, gesturing for him to take a seat.

He quietly sits down, more worried by the second.

With a heavy sigh, you sit down next to him, opening your mouth to start, but nothing comes to mind.

“Y/N… Did I Do Something To Upset You? I Apolig-”

“Im pregnant,” you blurt out, interrupting Papyrus.

Papyrus stares at you agape. That was not what he was expecting from you.

You fidget with your fingers as you wait for his response, opening your mouth to apoligize or something, but Papyrus beats you to it.

“Really?”

“...yeah”

Tears appear in papyrus’s eye sockets as he stares at you with an unreadable expression; fear grips your soul as you worry that hes upset with you… you knew you never talked about it but you hoped he would be excited.

"Wowie,” Papyrus says, finally breaking out into a smile and pulling you into a hug.

“I'M GOING TO BE A DAD!” he cries! You laugh under him, breaking out into your own tears.

“Yeah!” You are so happy Papyrus is happy; you didnt want toget your hopes up, but you were hoping he would be.

The rest of the night papyrus is pulling up houses in good school districts and baby clothes because, of course, “MY BABY NEEDS TO HAVE THE COOLEST WARDROBE! OF COUSE!”

UF sans

Red wanted kids, always had. He never imagined he would get the chance too, but still he liked to imagine having a family.

So when he met you and as your relationship grew, he would be lying if he hadn't daydreamed about it.

Though he never told you, he felt silly for wanting such soft things.

So when you brought up the idea to him one night, he was ecstatic! Immdedeatly texting alpys to see how they could make it work; fortunatey, it was possible.

But after months and months with no results, his excitement died down into pessimism, convinced that the universe was punishing him for his past actions.

But one day you came home all jittery and excited; whenever he asked what was up, you just giggled and brushed him off, telling him to wait. Wait for what?

"Doll, what are you plannin’?” sans asks, once again you giggle and shoo him away. “You will see! Now go away, stinky man; I'll show you when I am ready!” you say, closing the door to your room.

About a week ago, you took a test, preparing yourself for another negative. Until there wasn't one, you sobbed for at least an hour in the bathroom as you saw those two pink lines on the test.

You knew you had to do something special; you called Grilby and asked him to close the bar early, leaving it empty for just the two of you.

You had planned to take him to his favorite place, get his favorite food, and tell him the best news of his life...

But sans is being a ass and making your life harder.

“Come onnn- sans” "No.”

“Sans!” you forget how lazy your mate is, opting to sit in his lounge chair and tell him there than go to your plans. Fine then. If that's what he wants.

"Fine, I'll tell you right here, right now.”

“Great!”

“Im pregnant”

Sans drops the mustard bottle in his hand and sits up, not expecting that. You look at him unamused with your arms crossed.

“Really??”

“Yeah. I planned a whole thing to tell you. Payed grilby an arm and a leg to rent out the bar.”

Sans opens and closes his mouth a few times in shock, bringing a hand to his skull.

“Shit doll, im sorry—were going to have a baby?”

You nod your head, the softness in his voice causing all your annoyance to fall away. Sans chokes out a sob as you come over and hug him; he rabs onto your shirt tightly as if at any moment you would disappear.

“Were going to have a baby!”

UF papyrus

You two actually found out in a really silly way; Alphys wanted to check on your soul after you two soulbonded to see the reactions on a human soul since no human has ever bonded with a monster since before the barrier broke. Once a year she will do a checkup on your soul and the bond to study the changes.

You and Alphys sit alone in her office, a large x-ray-looking machine sitting in front of your chest. Alpys types on her keyboard as she starts up the machine.

“A-alright and- o- oh!” You look at Alphys concerned; thats not the reaction you were wanting.

“What is it?” you ask.

“W- well” she starts, turning the monitor towards you.

There in the middle of the screen was your soul, a faint red surrounding it—Papyrus’s magic.

“If you l-look you can see the bond is v-very healthy." You nod, Thats good…

“But if you look right here,” she says, pointing towards a small speck on your soul. She pinches her claw zooming in on the monitor. As it expands, you see the small blob is not a blob but an upside down heart.

A second soul.

“T-that is w-what i was surprised a-about…”

A little soul, you are pregnant... Your throat tightens as you feel the urge to cry. exhaustion and joy flood you. After all this time, finally!

“Is that?” alphys nods, confirming.

Alphys finishes her checkup much to your dismay; all you wanted to do was run to Papyrus as quick as you could and tell him the good news.

You get home and eagerly call his name, searching the house for him.

Shit hes at work; he wont be home for another four hours...

You huff in frustration... but then you idea.

Quickly, you get your supplies.

A few hours later, Papyrus arrives home, tossing his jacket on the couch with a growl. Today has been awful. You sniff the air, noticing the smell of fresh bread? He wanders into the kitchen where he finds you, and with a smile, he silently walks up behind you, wrapping his long arms around your waist.

“HELLO MY DEAR,” he says, burrowing his nose into the crook of your neck. You squeak in surprise.

“Hi handsome,” you greet back, turning around in his grasp to face him.

“I have a surprise for you.”

Papyrus quirks his brow at you, a surprise?

Hesitantly he lets go of you, watching you walk to the oven and dramatically fling it open, exposing some homemade milk buns.

“Tadaa!!”

Awkwardly he nods at you; you bake often... Why is this special?

You realise he didn't get it, and you roll your eyes, not wanting to spell it out for him.

“WHAT IS IT?”

“Its a bun in the oven that i made.”

Papyrus nods confused. “YES???” "Papyrus, im trying to be cute.”

“YOU ARE CUTE!”

You stomp your foot. That's not what you meant.

"Baby, im pregnant.”

Papyrus pauses, then it clicks.

Bun in the oven.

“OH MY GOD,” Papyrus pulls you to him and swings you around.

“I DONT KNOW IF I SHOULD BE ANNOYED OR OVERJOYED, BUT IM CHOOSING THE LADDER! WERE GOING TO HAVE A BABY!!” You laugh in his arms as he eventually sets you down, nuzzling your hair.

“I Cant Wait To Tell Sans”

HT sans.

Sans had a shitton of magic; since he was so deprived of magic in the underground when they got out, their magic came back tenfold, causing him to have constant excess. And there was one way that's the easiest (and most fun) way to get rid of excess magic... and that's why you are here now.

Eight weeks pregnant in the hospital, you came in for a stomach bug originally, but then the doctor came in and told you... It looks like all that excess magic has some side effects...

You carry the little paper with the positive test home, finding sans waiting for you at the table. He smiles; if the big dork had a tail, you would swear it would be wagging.

He doesn't verbally greet you, instead hulking over and burying his face in your hair with a loud purr. You smile and pat the side of his skill.

“Missed you to big guy.”

You try and act normal; you werent sure how sans would react... You never really talked about it with him. Sans immediately clocked your mood though, cocking his head in a silent question.

“Im fine,” you say, moving to the fridge to start dinner.

"Liar,” he says, a deep, anxious growl rumbling in his chest.

“Are you sick?” he asks. You forgot that going to the hospital and then not telling your mate what the doctors said is not the best idea.

You close the fridge and lean against it, crossing your arms.

You really didnt want to tell sans yet...

“Im not sick,” you say slowly, trying to figure out how to tell him.

“Whats… wrong?” sans asks.

Sans talks slower due to his injury, but he is still smart as a whip, clocking any small mood shifts with great speed and accuracy. You can't hide anything from him.

“Umm… How do you feel about kids?” you ask, testing the waters.

Sans perks up, thinking for a moment.

“I like kids,” he says.

“But do you want kids?”

Sans quickly nods his head eagerly, “Yes.”

You relax slightly at that, nodding your head.

“How would you feel if we were to have a kid? Like… now?”

“... that would be nice?” He asks a slight question at the end of his sentence: What were you getting at?

"Well, that may be the case. Because im pregnant.”

Sans eyelight grows, walking to you slowly as if you would bolt. Gently, he places his hands on your hips and looks down at you.

“Your fucking with me… really?” He says happily, and you shake your head no, handing him the paper you got from the doctors.

“I swear im not.”

Sans shortcuts you to your shared room, placing you on the bed and grabbing his phone to call papyrus, you have to almost wrestle the phone out of his hands, urging him to wait a little bit before he tells anyone. But he can't help it; he's just so excited!

And no HT papyrus, as i headcannon, they are asexual :3

thanks for reading! if you want to see more content check out my fanfic "doe eyed" on ao3 and my discord server! 18+ (we do check)

#undertale #papyrus #sans x reader #headcannons #papyrus x reader #underfell papyrus x reader #underfell sans x reader #underfell #horrertale #horrortale papyrus x reader #horrortale sans x reader

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