#its all a wash of fairy tales
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jim-fetter-illustrations · 1 year ago
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Merry Superstition Holiday
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What do Hercules, King Arthur, Odin and Jesus have in common?
They are all Literary myths whom had religious cults built up around them after their theoretical deaths.
So how is it that Jesus became one of the most influential and intriguing figures in all of world history?
Because it seems with human beings the further from reality something is, the more unbelievable something is, the more we are inclined to believe it because of superstition, because we fear the unknown, so we just make shit up to compensate for our stupidity.
It's how we got every one of mankind's imanagery heroes, fear of the unknown through superstition.
Because the story of Jesus, ya see,.... is so far fetched from reality People are just attracted to its bizarreness fairy tale qualities about him.
I mean, the story goes something like this;
About 2000 years ago, a young married woman, still a virgin, was made pregnant by God, a fictitious character (an imaginary person), she gave birth to a baby in a barn, and three wise men found this baby by following a weird star in the heavens that guided them to him throughout the desert so they could worship him and give him gold and scented oils. That baby was named Jesus. Called the Son of God, the fictitious character and imaginary person.
Then jesus told people he was God and performed miracles like magically making fish and bread appear, turning water into wine, and raising people from the dead just to name a few.
So then jesus told his followers to eat some bread which was his flesh, and drink some wine, which was is blood.
Then the Jewish authorities were angry with Jesus for being a showboat and taking attention away from them, so they turned Jesus over to the Romans and convinced them to crucify him because of loss of followers,..... but a few days after Jesus died he came back to life again and told everyone that his whole plan from the start was to let them murder him, so his death could wipe out all sin of mankind so the world would have everlasting peace.
And we see how that worked out, it failed miserably, and people today are still as sinful, if not more, as they were during the time Jesus walked the earth in the fairy tale story.
So Jesus's followers wrote all this down in a book called the Bible, a new organized religion, and if you don't follow the Jesus religion he will come back to judge you.
Yeah, this guy that was murdered, then came back to life a few days later, then just vanished into thin air, and is now supposedly in a place called heaven no one can see until they die, where all good followers will go to that support the religion financially in this life so the the people that teach the bible don't have to work for a living in this life?
............... now I'm thinking of a Donald Trump Hoax that seems similar........Hmmmmmmmm.
Sooooooo,
You better watch out,
You better not cry,
You better not pout,
I'm telling you why,
Jesus Christ is coming back to town.
Ya see, He sees you when you're sleeping,
And he knows when you're awake,
He knows if you've been bad or good,
So be good for goodness sake.......
Ohhhhhhhhh,
You better watch out,
You better not sin,
You better not pout,
Gotta save your skin,
'Cause Jesus Christ is coming back to town.
These lyrics sound very familiar for some reason about another fictitious and imaginary character we just made up out of thin air, but people support this character out of greed, rather than love like we do Jesus.......
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minarisplaything · 9 months ago
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Blackpink In Your Area (part three)
pairing: Kim Jisoo x M!Reader/M!OC, Rose x M!Reader/M!OC rating: Explicit wordcount: 4.6k notes: part three of the bpiya series. Rose/Chaeyoung/Rosie are all used interchangeably. this has been in the drafts forever so glad it actually got done lol. tags: doggy style, blackmail, oral sex
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To say that things had changed after your rendezvous backstage would be an understatement.
You were still the luckiest person in the world, able to call Jennie Kim your girlfriend, but now the number of Kims you were involved with had doubled.
At first, you had assumed it would simply be a one-off. That from Jennie to Jisoo to yourself, you had all gotten carried away in the heat of the moment and let your primal urges get the best of you. On top of that, you didn't think it was something Jennie would want to do again, though the whole experience had shown you a new side of her that you weren't utterly opposed to.
Therefore, one could imagine your surprise when you returned home one evening to find Jennie and Jisoo waiting at your apartment for you.
As it would turn out, Jisoo was too shy to reach out to you on her own, or at least with you present, but she had been hoping that you could have another experience together. And contrary to your previous belief, Jennie approved of it. Encouraged it even, much to your surprise. Though when those two women were looking back at you, proposing a dynamic between the three of you, it was damn near impossible to find a complaint.
From that point on, it was like a new beginning for the three of you, but little did you know, your journey wasn't at its fairy tale ending just yet.
A loud, guttural moan echoed in the residence of South Korean superstars Blackpink. The source of the sound was none other than the visual of the group Kim Jisoo.   
During your first encounter backstage, she had been trying her best to muffle her sounds and minimize the risk of discovery. It didn't take long for you to realize that when that risk was removed Jisoo was quite the vocal lover. And in a completely different manner than her bandmate.  
Jennie was vulgar, expletive, and above all else a master at the art of talking dirty. Jisoo on the other hand was loud in the sense that you would know when she was enjoying herself. Moans, whimpers, gasps, pleas for more; what she lacked in vulgar vocabulary she more than made up for in all the sounds she made. 
As evidenced now as she cried out when you began to fuck her with a more rapid pace.  
She had started on her hands and knees but as the session progressed her posture steadily changed to the point where her head was now buried against the mattress; her ass poised in the air and ripe for the taking. It was the perfect position for you to pound into her, your cock spreading her open each time you re-entered her. 
Normally Jennie would be here with you but seeing as she had a scheduled photoshoot to attend and no one else was around you had decided to entertain yourselves. It had taken some trust building to get to this point, where you could be on your own or Jennie could be with her, and you didn't have to worry about anyone getting jealous. But now that you had there was no turning back.  
"You're so fucking tight" you grunted, sweat glistening off of both of your bodies, proof to how long you had been at it. "Are you close? Are you going to cum on my cock, Jisoo?" 
Needless to say, Jennie's vulgar habits had been rubbing off on you in recent weeks. 
She opened her mouth to respond but words failed her.  In the end it didn't matter as her body spoke for her. You felt the familiar sensation of her walls tightening around your length, her body trembling as her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave.  It was both a feeling and sight you didn't think you'd ever get tired of. 
It didn't take much longer after that for you to reach your own peak; hips rocking against hers and fingers digging into her waist. Obscenities left you as you leaned into her, emptying yourself into her womb. It may not have come with the filthy encouragement of your girlfriend, but it was no less satisfying. 
You had found that one of the handful of differences between Jennie and Jisoo was in the aftermath of sex. Jennie preferred to bask in the afterglow, more often than not leading to a second or even third round of action. Jisoo on the other hand was much more subdued. She preferred to unwind and partake in aftercare. Not surprising considering how rough she liked things to be during sex.  
"You know when Jennie finds out about this, she's going to demand we treat her" you commented as a slipped out of Jisoo, pressing a kiss to her back before falling onto the bed beside her.  
"Is that a bad thing?" she questioned, brow raised as she lowered herself onto the bed, turning her head to look over at you with the hint of a grin on her features.  
“Not exactly.” you couldn't help but chuckle because she was right. If anything, it just meant the night would be a busy one.  
Before you could continue the conversation any further, the sound of the front door opening and closing echoed throughout the house.
"Speak of the devil,” you remarked.
"She's finished early," Jisoo noted, slightly confused.
"Maybe her sixth sense was tingling," you joked.
While there was a grin on your face at the prospect of Jennie being home, Jisoo didn't share your same amusement. Instead her head rose slightly as curiosity and concern marred her features. It turned out that her instincts were right as a voice soon rang out.
"Unnie? Are you home?"
"Shi — "
The immediate reaction was nearly comical. You jumped out of bed, searching for your clothes as Jisoo scrambled as well. Though you hadn't had many interactions with Chaeyoung, better known as Rose, due to trying to keep things a secret, you had heard her voice enough times to recognize it as hers.
In the end, you only managed to gather your clothes in your arms before Jisoo shoved you into the closet. She herself had only managed to slip on a pair of shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt. To any trained eye, the post-sex hair and aroma would be apparent, but there was no time to consider that as there was a knock on the door.
"Unnie?"
The question came before the door was opened, and a blonde head poked its way into her room. "Oh! I wasn't sure if you were home or not."
"Ah, y-yes. Yes, I'm here. I had an empty schedule today," Jisoo replied nervously, brushing sweat-ridden bangs from her forehead. "I, uh, I actually just got back from the gym."
Internally, you groaned. She didn't remain quite as composed as her counterpart would in this situation. You just hoped she'd be able to get rid of Rose soon, lest you be stuck in here all day. It was a hope that was slightly dashed as she opened the door further and allowed herself into the room. Before you could come up with any further complaints, however, your thoughts were quickly silenced by Rose coming into picture. You found yourself leaning forward to get a better view through the slants in the closet door.
She wore a black crop top complemented by form-fitting track pants. When she laid herself on the bed, you weren’t concerned with whether she would get a scent of sex that had recently stained the sheets but instead thinking how perfect her ass looked as it was unknowingly pointed in your direction. 
You became less interested in the idle conversation that she and Jisoo began to have and more lost in the fantasies that began to plague your mind. The things you would do to her if given the opportunity. How she'd scream your name as you drove her to orgasm. It was clear to you then that your greed knew no bounds. But despite your cock reacting to the thoughts running through your head, you knew they were just that, thoughts that would never come to fruition.
Fortunately, you had enough self-restraint not to begin jerking off right there in the closet, and after what seemed like a lifetime, Jisoo finally managed to get her to leave with the excuse that she needed to use the shower having been to the gym.
The door closed as she saw Rose off, and there was a pause before you heard footsteps walking towards the closet. Jisoo opened the closet and immediately looked at you with a bewildered expression.
"You're still naked?!"
"...Yes?" you answered sheepishly.
"Get dressed please! This might be your only chance to leave without running into her," Jisoo exclaimed.
Deciding this wasn't the time for jokes, you obeyed her request. Had you been with Jennie, the situation might have been different; you could imagine her coming up with some kind of plot. But Jisoo wasn't so bold. Not yet, at least.
"I'm going to go take a shower, so she doesn't get suspicious. Let yourself out quietly."
You nodded affirmatively, but not before sneaking a kiss that drew a slight smile from the Blackpink visual. With no further instruction, she pushed you on your way, heading down the opposite end of the hallway towards the bathroom. Now that you were seemingly out of the woods, you could reflect on the situation with a bit of amusement. It seemed with each meeting, Jisoo was getting more and more comfortable with her sexuality and your relationship. On top of that, you had gotten a peek at some eye candy when Chaeyoung came to visit her.
You were grateful that she hadn't caught you in the act, but there was no denying that the idea of going to town on that petite body was a tantalizing one. Unfortunately for you, you'd have to content yourself with your fantasies for now.
You slipped out of the house without further incident, unaware of the watchful gaze of a certain petite blonde.
Due to their busy schedules, it was a while before you were able to catch up with Jennie or Jisoo in person again. And while sexting and Facetimes were great, they could never compete with the physical thing.
So, when you finally did get an invitation from Jennie to come over, needless to say, you dropped everything to make yourself available for her. Maybe if you were lucky, you'd even be rewarded after a long wait with a threesome.
"Jennie? Jisoo?" you called out when you arrived at the house. In her message, she was clear that no one else would be around, so you didn't feel shy about making yourself known, especially if Lisa and Rose weren't around.
Instead of a response, though, you got silence. Was she waiting in the bedroom for you? Maybe with a special surprise.
"They're not here."
To say the voice that came from behind you made you jump out of your skin would be an understatement. You nearly jumped through the damn roof! You turned around, heart beating a million miles an hour, to see one of the two people you had been told wouldn't be there. Uh-oh.
Chaeyoung, or Rose or Rosie, depending on who you were, was standing on the other side of the living room, looking decidedly unsurprised and nonplussed about a strange man being in her home. In fact, if anything, she looked like she had been expecting you.
"Uh, hi. I can explain. I don't think we've met — "
"I know who you are," Rosie cut you off.
Oh, no.
With Jennie, you could often read her as being in control or mischievous. Jisoo was often meek and eager. But looking at Rosie, you didn't know what to think. Was she angry and about to out your whole relationship to the public? No, surely, she'd never do that to her bandmates. Maybe she was just going to ban you from ever seeing them again. Whatever the case, she seemed content to let you squirm, her arms crossed over her small chest.
"And I know what you've been doing. Did you really think Jisoo would be able to keep a secret like that?"
You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You guessed it had been rather naïve to think that one of you wouldn't eventually slip up, and that Jisoo was the weakest link. Then again, you weren't exactly innocent with your impromptu encounters while other members were still in the house. You justified it by saying the risk made it that much more exciting, but this was the downside: when you got caught.
"If it makes you feel better, she didn't crack right away when I asked her if you two were fucking. But she has these certain tells when she's lying — they give her away every time" Rose explained. "She told me about you and Jennie which — wow I didn't even know that part." 
As she continued to talk, your immediate fear began to subside. It didn't seem like Rosie was here to expose you. In fact, the more she talked the less angry she seemed and more like she was criticizing your tactics. Which still left you questioning what exactly her goal was.  
Now that your mind wasn't racing, it also gave you a chance to look the idol over. She was wearing another one of her sports bras, and you could already feel a tingling in your loins just at the sight of it. This time instead of wearing track pants, she was wearing running shorts. The kind that came up right to her ass, in fact, you were pretty sure if she turned around you'd see some cheek. It was a lazy, around-the-house type of outfit and yet it showed off her body and slim waist perfectly.
Christ, every girl in this group was a killer.
Honestly, it made you wonder if the reason Jennie was often so willing to share was because she recognized how hot her own roommates were. When you had that first run-in with Jisoo, she had alluded to a past with her that piqued your interest.
You couldn't help but wonder if she had a similar history with Rose, but from the way she was rambling on, it didn't seem like it.
"Take off your pants."
"Uh, excuse me?"
Her sudden demand was enough to break you from your thoughts and look at her in utter confusion. Rosie, however, didn't share your confusion and was looking at you with an expectant gaze, one hand on her hip.
"Were you listening to anything I said? Take off your pants."
You were a little afraid to admit that you hadn't, in fact, been listening to anything she had said and were instead admiring her body the whole time. Rosie seemed like she wanted to be in control, and if you didn't listen, you couldn't help but feel like some sort of punishment was coming. "Alright, alright."
You followed her orders, taking off your pants as she instructed. It was somewhat surreal. Between Jisoo and even Jennie, who could be quite demanding when she got in the mood, you had never been ordered around in this way. And the fact that it was Rosie who was the one doing it was even more surreal. You never would have guessed. Maybe that was why you found yourself getting aroused despite her harsh words.
"Those too," Rosie gestured dismissively at the striped boxers you stood in.
You would have questioned if she was serious, but the expectant look on her face was all the answer you needed to make short work of your last piece of clothing. You couldn't remember the last time you were self-conscious while nude, and yet you were anxiously awaiting Rose's judgment as you stood before her.
"She wasn't lying..." Rose muttered under her breath.
Her voice had lost the commanding edge it had up to this point, almost sounding somewhat shocked.
"What was that?" you asked.
"W-what?" Rose blinked as if shaken from a trance. "N-nothing! Shut up! Or else!"
"Alright, alright, sorry! I was just asking."
You shifted your stance slightly, trying to get comfortable. It was a new sensation. Standing there, now fully nude, and under Rosie's scrutinizing gaze. It didn't help that she seemed particularly transfixed on your cock as she contemplated her words. Part of you was wondering if she had thought this all the way through. She certainly didn't take charge the way Jennie did, but in fear of her lashing out again, you kept any further questions to yourself.
"Here's what's going to happen," Rose started. Her voice still lacked a certain confidence, but you were curious where she was going with this. "You're going to get on your knees. If you can satisfy me, then I'll keep the secret you have with Jennie and Jisoo."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I'll tell everyone."
You swallowed hard at that threat. A part of you wanted to call her on her bluff. You still doubted she'd publicly tarnish her friend's careers. But there were other steps she could take just short of that. Still, there was another motivating factor that was stronger than Chaeyoung's threat: you wanted to succeed. You wanted to feel Chaeyoung’s thighs clenching around your head as she came. Most importantly, you wanted to show her that she didn’t have to be jealous of Jennie and Jisoo.
"Well, when you say it like that, it doesn't sound like I have much of a choice..." you said.
"You don't," she emphasized.
From the curt way she snapped a response, you could tell that Rose was regaining her previous composure and feeling more confident about her position. Good. That worked perfectly for your plan and would make her eventual downfall even sweeter. For now, you'd continue to play the role she expected of you.
"A-alright. Just, you promise not to tell anyone about any of this?" you questioned one last time.
"Really?" Chaeyoung blinked at first, as if not expecting you to submit. She quickly recovered. "I mean, that depends on how well you perform."
"Okay..." You continued to play the role of someone who was defeated despite internally brimming with confidence. "So, where do you want to do this?"
"The living room."
"Out in the open?" Your voice held a surprised tone.
"Yes, out in the open. Right where one of your girlfriends might catch you," Rosie replied.
You didn't know for sure, but you could have sworn there was a hint of jealousy in her voice when she said that.
"Alright," you conceded, not putting up a fight again. "If that's what you want. Though you'll have to get out of those."
You gestured to the clothes she was still wearing. She still had on her sports bra and running shorts. And while you could still work with the sports bra, you'd have to get rid of those shorts to do what she wanted you to do. Pointing it out also made you acutely aware of your own nudity which you now realized must have been purely for her own curiosity or some kind of domination play by her.
Chaeyoung gave you an annoyed look, displeased that you had pointed out something she had forgotten. This time, though, she didn't chastise you, instead merely hooking her fingers into the waistband of the shorts and pulling them down her long legs. The reveal showed that she wasn't wearing any panties underneath. You smirked, wondering just how long she had planned for this moment to happen.
"What's that look for?" Chaeyoung snapped.
"Oh, nothing."
"You probably think this will be easy because you already seduced Jisoo and Jennie, don't you?" she taunted.
"Well, I haven’t heard any complaints so far. I think I’m more than capable," you admitted.
Your smug response seemed to work as intended. Chaeyoung’s pretty face scrunched up in irritation. Without further comment, Chaeyoung moved to the sofa, seating herself in it and reclining back. As she did so, she spread her legs, exposing her pussy to your sight for the first time. Your heart skipped a beat, cock instinctively stirring to life in response. The singer didn't have to tell you to get on your knees as you did so of your own volition, if only to get closer to paradise.
"You're already wet for me," you noted, almost in a trance.
"S-shut up!" Chaeyoung snapped again, a hint of embarrassment in her tone as her cheeks turned crimson. Still, she didn't deny it. Instead, she tried to regain her position of power in the situation, "I suggest you get to work if you want to finish before the others get back."
You briefly wondered if she had considered the outcome where you wanted Jennie and Jisoo to discover you. While she might be initially annoyed at Chaeyoung's antics of going behind her back, you could see Jennie ultimately finding joy in this new discovery. She might even take it upon herself to initiate her bandmate into your little relationship. Jisoo might be the only one who wouldn't want this to be discovered. Or at least, not her part in being the one to spill the beans to Rosie in the first place. That would undoubtedly earn her another punishment from Jennie.
Stowing that thought aside for the moment, you returned to the task at hand. You would have Chaeyoung spraying on your tongue, and then there would be a world of potential.
You leaned closer to her sex, swallowing a comment asking if she had shaved just for you. That was likely to rile her up even more than she already was. Instead, you ran your tongue along her outer folds. Her scent was strong, the taste of her juices already beginning to fill your senses. A moan left the blonde, one hand moving to press against the back of your head.
You continued to tease her, tongue tracing around her inner walls, occasionally prodding deeper inside of her. She let out a sharp gasp each time, her body arching. Her hips rolled towards you, seeking out more.
"S-stop teasing..." she groaned.
You grinned, "I'm just doing what you asked."
"D-Don't be a smartass!" Rosie snapped.
She pushed your head back into her crotch, and you returned to the task with an air of smugness. It was really too easy to rile her up. You sucked at her clit, intent on giving Chaeyoung your full attention now. If she wanted you to stop teasing, then you'd give her the best orgasm she'd ever experienced.
You felt her nails digging into your scalp, a moan leaving her. The hand pressing against your head pushed and pulled, her hips rocking in sync with the actions. She was moaning openly now, no attempt at hiding what was occurring. Given she was the one who wanted this to be in the living room, you shouldn't have been too surprised. Though you did wonder if Chaeyoung had an exhibitionist streak to her.
As you continued to eat her out, her hand moved under her top, squeezing her breast. "That's right. T-this is all you're good for. You're just h-here for us to use -- fuck -- use you as we want, you understand?"
"Mmhm," you moaned against her pussy, the vibrations making her gasp.
She didn't quite have the same amount of conviction that Jennie had when it came to such derogatory bedroom talk, but there was potential there. Besides, you were already horny enough to humor her without calling out the stutters she made.
You were starting to realize that there was a bit of an underlying fantasy at play here. Chaeyoung was enjoying the domination aspect of this, but there was another part that was playing in her mind. One you would have no qualms playing along with. Usually so sweet and friendly, she was finally getting to live out her sexual fantasies as her fingers gripped your head tightly.
"I-I guess I see why Jennie likes you so much now," Chaeyoung moaned. "With that kind of tongue... And Jisoo too. I bet y-you're just their obedient pet."
If only she knew the truth, you thought.
You didn't respond verbally but instead redoubled your efforts, your tongue working at her clit with a new vigor. Your fingers joined in the orchestra, slipping two digits inside of her to further push her towards that precipice. You could hear her breathing becoming shallower, the telltale signs that she was getting closer. Rosie seemed to realize it as well as you felt her fingers claw against your skull, almost trying to push your mouth off of her sex.
"N-no, wait, it's too soon," she moaned, despite her hips bucking into your mouth.
But it was too late. You had the advantage and you weren't going to let it go. Not until every muscle in her tight, lithe body went limp from a mind-numbing orgasm.
"Fuck," Chaeyoung stuttered, "fuck you. Cheating...bastard..."
You had never heard the singer be quite that vulgar before and took it as a small victory. You were just giving her what she wanted. It just so happened it had been more than what she could take and as her body shuddered she knew she was losing control of the situation.
As far as you were concerned, you had played this fair and square.
"Oh god!" she gasped, thighs locking around your head as her hips bucked, riding your face.
Her juices flooded your mouth as she rode out the wave of pleasure brought on by her orgasm. Her body quaked on the sofa, her nails digging into your skull as she held your hair tighter than before. Had you not been lapping at her juices, you might've savored the sight. You stayed locked in that position for several moments, letting her ride out the aftershocks. It was only when you felt her body go limp that you finally pulled your head back.
The look on your face was nothing short of shit-eating smugness. Who could blame you? The arrogant woman who had threatened to expose your relationship to the world sat utterly spent and dazed. Her thighs glistened with her release, her hand still shoved under her top lazily. Her head reclined against the cushions, a glazed over haze in her eyes as her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths.
Looking at her like this, you couldn't help but feel proud and accomplished. Especially considering how haughty Rosie had been trying to act leading up to this.
"You know, if you needed an orgasm so bad, all you had to do was ask," you teased. "I'm sure Jennie would be willing to share."
Chaeyoung only nodded dumbly, unable to maintain her bristling act that she had before nor comment in agreement. Your cock was aching between your legs, and the idea of splitting her in two until she screamed your name was enticing. However, that would have to wait.
"You should probably get dressed before they come back. Unless you want them to find out," you teased her before moving to gather your own clothing, your mission seemingly accomplished.
What followed next played out almost as you imagined. Naturally, you didn't keep the rendezvous a secret, informing Jennie of what had taken place during a long bath. After a punishment which involved a few ropes and a vibrator, she gave her consent to have Chaeyoung join your relationship. Jisoo, notably, remained silent during the whole ordeal. You'd make sure to tease her later and get something out of it, knowing that she was the one who had spilled the beans.
For now, though, life was good.
"You know," you said, as you lay in bed, your head resting on Jennie's lap as Jisoo and Rosie slept soundly on either side of you, "It might get a little awkward the three of you being involved in this with one excluded."
Jennie hummed in response, her fingers stroking through your hair, "Maybe you're right. We might have to change that."
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evangelical04 · 1 month ago
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A Single Daffodil || 6
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Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Rating: 18+ minors DNI
Word Count: 6.4K
Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi
Warnings: some angst, but this is a fluffy chapter so not much to say
Author's Note: hi everyone, i hope you're all well! sorry it took so long to get this out, i was really going through it and didn't have a lot of motivation to write, but this is finished now!! it's a lot shorter than i wanted it to be, but i decided it didn't matter and wanted to post anyway, so i hope you guys enjoy it despite the length (or lack thereof). thank you guys again so much for being so patient and understanding, you all are so amazing and i couldn't ask for better readers. i hope you enjoy the newest installment!
TAGLIST CLOSED [follow asingledaffodil tag for all notifications]
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Walking through the lobby of Yoongi’s apartment in what was essentially a morning after look left you with a new sense of embarrassment you hadn’t felt before. You pointedly avoided eye contact with the security guard as you beelined to the elevator, hoping he couldn’t make out the outline of a crumpled dress and lingerie in the bag hanging from your fingertips. The elevator takes what feels like an eternity to open its doors and once it does, you quickly ducked inside, repeatedly hitting the close button so no one else can enter. 
Once you reached Yoongi’s apartment door, you breathed deeply, trying to calm your nerves before entering. You punched in the passcode, hearing the lock click and slowly turned the handle to crack open the door, seeing if you could catch a peek of Yoongi in the living room. Luck seemed to be on your side as the couch was empty, and you darted past the door, speed walking to the stairs to get changed. Making it to your room felt like winning a marathon as you shut the door behind you and chucked your plastic bag at the floor. You didn’t know what you would’ve done had you run into Yoongi dressed in nothing but Jaehyun’s shirt, missing even undergarments. 
While you showered and dressed yourself in comfier clothing, making a mental note to wash and return Jaehyun’s shirt as soon as you could, you contemplated how you should approach your conversation with Yoongi. You hadn’t talked to him since Friday night when you’d caught him on top of Jimin. You ran multiple scenarios of how a conversation with him would go as you entered the shower, wondering how he would react to you saying that you had feelings for him. 
Wait, is that what you were going to do? Confess to him? You weren’t sure about that. You knew you wanted to be honest with him but not that honest. But…if you asked him to remain exclusive or said that him seeing people other than you bothered you, wouldn’t he be able to put the pieces together from that? You sighed, letting the warm water trickle down your face, pushing your hair back against your scalp, at least not confessing would save you an iota of embarrassment. 
You finished showering rather quickly, a bit too quickly for your own taste, you wanted to delay this inevitable conversation as long as possible. Picking your clothes was simple enough, aiming for a comfy outfit with a simple sweatshirt and leggings, noting the chilled air in the house. 
Finally, you were ready. Physically, at least. 
Emotionally? You wanted to crawl under your bed. But that wasn’t an option, or so you told yourself, as you combed your hair and stared yourself down in the mirror.
You could do this. How hard could it be? 
A glimmer of gold caught your eye on your desk and made you hesitate, seeing your ring sitting patiently on the flat surface. You reached for it, reasoning that if you wanted to commit to Yoongi, you should be wearing it. The cool feeling of the metal sliding onto your finger was grounding, something you needed for the conversation you were about to have. 
Reaching for your door handle, you worried your lip over the fact that you still had no idea what you wanted to say. Should you wait until you’d formulated a plan? Or until you felt properly ready? No, you’d never talk to him at that rate. 
As you opened the door, you stumbled back in shock, seeing Yoongi already standing there, looking disheveled and exhausted. He seemed equally surprised that you’d opened the door, showing in his slightly open mouth and wide eyes. You noticed the dark circles sinking in under his bloodshot eyes and messy bangs adorning his forehead, his lips were chapped and parted. Was he alright? But that’s not what was important right now.
“Yoongi-ssi,” you stuttered, caught off guard by his sudden appearance, “What are you doing here?”
Yoongi sighed, running a hand through already messy hair, before looking at you directly, “I wanted to talk to you. About Friday,” he paused, “About everything.”
Great.
“Oh, okay, I actually wanted to talk to you too. Why don’t you come in,” it felt awkward gesturing for him to enter your room but he looked like he was about to fall over any second and you didn’t want to risk him getting a head injury. Guiding him to your bed, you watched him sit before pulling your desk chair up so you could face him. 
“Would you like to start,” you asked, trying to meet his downcast gaze.
“No, no, I want to hear what you have to say first,” he said quietly. 
“Okay, well, firstly, I wanted to apologize for how I reacted on Friday,” you started, holding up your hand when you saw Yoongi begin to protest, “I’m not apologizing for being upset, I’m apologizing for taking it out on you. In our agreement, you were allowed to pursue other people and I shouldn’t have reacted that way, at least, not externally. You didn’t really do anything wrong. But, to clear the air, I want to explain why I reacted the way I did.”
This was going well so far, or at least, that’s what you were telling yourself. Yoongi seemed surprised but only nodded for you to continue, so you did. 
“To be completely honest, I’m not really okay with us having an open relationship, I don’t like the idea of you with other people or me going out with other people, it feels,” you weighed your words carefully, “It feels disrespectful, at least, that’s how I see it. But, I should’ve made that clear when it was first brought up, so that’s on me.”
Yoongi shook his head, but you continued on, feeling like you were unable to stop talking now that you’d started, “Honestly, this entire relationship has felt kind of one-sided. I don’t like how you get upset at random things or draw a line between us so harshly. I understand that this wasn't ideal for you, I’m not asking you to fall in love with me, but I do want us to work together.”
“I want us to try and at least be friends to start, I think we started off too hostile,” you continued, feeling like you were building to a crescendo.
“To be totally transparent,” you took a deep breath, was this really what you wanted to do? There could be devastating consequences, but you felt in your bones that you wanted to be completely honest with him. You satiated your nerves by reminding yourself that you had your own apartment to go back to should Yoongi’s reaction be extremely negative.
“Even before we got married,” another deep breath, you could do this. This wasn’t such a big deal, you didn’t even have very deep feelings for him, they felt superficial. So with that logic, you told yourself, a rejection wouldn’t be the end of the world. 
“I’ve had a sort of crush on you,” there was no turning back from here. You had told yourself you weren’t planning on confessing, yet here you were, baring your soul. Your eyes were turned downward, afraid of seeing Yoongi’s reaction, the only thing you heard being a surprised exhale at your statement. Your fingers entangled with one another in a nervous tic as you slowly lifted your gaze to meet Yoongi’s. 
His eyebrows were knitted together, in what expression, you weren’t sure. His eyes held an emotion you couldn’t read. His mouth was pursed in a sentiment you couldn’t decipher. Why was he so difficult to read? Why couldn’t you tell what he was thinking? It only made you more nervous. You had tried to quell your fears by telling yourself that your feelings were too shallow to warrant being so upset at a rejection, but you knew that it would still be devastating to you. When did your heart ever listen to logic?
As you sat in a silence that felt like it lasted minutes on end, Yoongi finally opened his mouth. 
“I didn’t know,” he stated, you still couldn’t read his expression. Was that all he had to say? You could feel your heart sinking into your stomach and your eyes begin to well with tears. 
“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly want to announce it,” you retorted, feeling exposed and upset. You had confessed something of this caliber and that was all he could say in response? It was angering and you could feel the control you had over your expression slipping from your grasp. You turned away from Yoongi, attempting to steel your outward appearance, not wanting to let him see how much he affected you. 
A hand caught your arm that was reaching up to run a hand through your hair, making you face Yoongi once more. His eyebrows were more scrunched together than before, making him look upset, but you couldn’t be sure. 
“Y/N, I’m sorry, I want to say more, it’s just a lot to process,” he said, biting at the chapped bits of his lip, making your eyes catch on the movement. You quickly averted your gaze back to his own, waiting for him to speak. 
He released your arm, leaning back in his position on your bed, letting out a sigh, “I’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff the past few days, and I want to apologize, for a lot. It was shitty of me to try to sleep with someone else, it was shitty of me to do a lot of things. You didn’t deserve any of it. I should’ve tried to get to know you better before we got married instead of imposing stupid rules, I should’ve been nicer to you during the whole process, and I shouldn’t have been so back and forth with how I acted towards you. There’s a lot I wish I had done differently, and I want to apologize for all of it.”
His words left you silent, mouth slightly parted in shock, not having expected such a genuine apology from his lips. 
He took your silence as a sign to continue, “I’ve probably been really frustrating to deal with, with how I’ve been handling this, but I want to make things clear, I definitely feel something for you too.”
Your ears felt like they were ringing, was this really happening? You hadn’t even prepared yourself for this type of outcome, you weren’t sure how to react. 
“It took me some time to actually come to terms with that because I didn’t understand what I was feeling, but I can confidently say that I like you too. I want to make this work, I want to do this together, with you,” Yoongi finished, running a hand through his messy hair before looking at you once more. 
You weren’t sure of what to say exactly, your palms were growing sweaty and your mind felt blank. But you couldn’t leave Yoongi hanging, you had to say something, anything. 
“We shouldn’t try to start a relationship,” you blurted out, surprising Yoongi and yourself. But it was true to how you felt, with how things had progressed so far, you absolutely did not feel ready to jump into a relationship with Yoongi. The power imbalance felt too great, despite him just confirming that he had feelings for you too, you knew he could ask anything of you and you’d oblige. That wasn’t a healthy foundation. 
In addition to that, you didn’t feel like you knew him well enough. You liked to be friends with people for a little bit before starting to date them, it allowed to get to know them without the pressure of a relationship, and usually only aided in your feelings towards them. Right now, you knew what you felt for Yoongi was too shallow to start a relationship that you would enjoy. 
And the most important, you wanted to make sure you had an out. If a relationship between you and Yoongi didn’t work out, you couldn’t just stop seeing each other, you’d still be married. You’d still have obligations to each other. You wanted to make sure that you and Yoongi could function as friends first, roommates at the least, before you jumped into a relationship that had the potential to end badly. If you knew that you’d be able to have a fall back plan with him, you’d feel much more comfortable going into this. It was a bad habit of yours, though, looking for a way out of situations before they had even come to fruition. You had tried to shake it, you really had, especially at the advice of your college counselor back when you actually got therapy, but it had creeped its way back into your routine. 
Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed, “Why?” 
Biting your lip, you made sure to take an even breath, “With how everything has been so far, I feel like it’d be better to start as friends. It feels too fast to jump straight into a relationship.”
Yoongi nodded slowly, “Okay, that makes sense. How about a compromise?”
Your attention quickly drew to his face, your eyebrows scrunching together in confusion and intrigue, “What do you mean?”
“Let me take you out on dates every now and then, we can go slowly so you’re comfortable,” he stated, sharp eyes carefully gauging your reaction. 
You could feel your mouth open slightly in shock at his proposition, but your mind raced to consider the options, would you be able to handle dates with him? Would you even survive?
A new thought entered your mind, slightly unwelcome, but the fact remained that you didn’t have to restrain yourself anymore. You didn’t have to be concerned with whether you would survive dates with Yoongi anymore, because Yoongi liked you. It was mutual. There were no consequences to worry about, no reason to catch yourself, to monitor your feelings.
Because he liked you. 
You silently nodded, still processing the entire situation, barely registering Yoongi’s returning nod. 
“Okay,” he stated, a little breathlessly, “I should really go shower, so I’m gonna do that.” He stood quickly, nodding at you, before rushing out your door. You weren’t quite so far gone that you didn’t notice his burning red ears, making you smile softly. 
Hearing the door shut gently, you leaned back in your chair, exhaling loudly.
None of this felt real. 
Did that really just happen?
You had spent so long pondering the possibilities and endless realities of Yoongi rejecting you, being disgusted, upset, or divorcing you that you didn’t know what to do in the situation where he felt the same. Your mind was spinning and you felt yourself rise from your seat only to fall back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. 
It felt like a dream, almost.
But the slight chill in the air, the feeling of the comforter beneath your fingertips, the distant sound of the shower running proved to you that it was real. A smile grew on your face as you sat in your thoughts, wasn’t this the best case scenario? And it was truly happening.
Turning your head to the side, you glanced at the clock sitting on your bedside table. It was only around noon at this point, plenty of time left in the day. Noting the time made your stomach growl, berating your choice to have not eaten until now. You sat up, deciding to cook, leaving your room to head to the kitchen. 
Cooking was a hit or miss for you, it really depended on what mood you were in, if you felt like cooking. You were in a great mood today, though, and it showed in your enthusiasm at wondering what you should make for lunch. Something light and easy, shareable. Because you wanted to share it with Yoongi. 
You settled on kimbap, finding the necessary vegetables in the fridge and starting to chop them. When you were happy, you made spam kimbap, so that’s what you made. A small little hum started up in you, influenced by the music flowing through your headphones, inciting a sway in your step and a tap in your foot. You hadn’t been this content in a while, but it felt achingly familiar, a fond tug in your heart. You almost didn’t know what to do with yourself without the lingering sadness or restriction on your feelings toward Yoongi. 
You weren’t sure if it had truly set in yet, the reality of the situation, but while it hadn’t, you were going to enjoy the honeymoon phase of just having confessed to each other. 
Flipping the spam on the stove, you quietly sang along to your song, using your chopsticks as a makeshift microphone in your muted movements. The last time you were able to relax like this, you recalled, was before you moved out of your apartment, after getting off a call with Hoseok and Joohee. The call had been a regular check in between the three of you and had left you in an exceedingly good mood and aggressively singing in your kitchen while making dinner. Your movements slowed and voice died as you thought about the past few months and how you had rarely had a moment of true content. 
Your thoughts were constantly plagued by Yoongi and later, his actions toward you and what they could mean. You felt a wave of emotional exhaustion hit you now that your brain wasn’t in overdrive trying to regulate your feelings and decipher Yoongi’s. 
A glance down at the spam told you it was done and you quickly moved it to another plate. Turning around to retrieve the veggies, you were met with Yoongi standing silently at the edge of the kitchen, leaning against the pillar, making you stumble back.
“Oh, Yoongi-ssi, you surprised me,” you breathed, pressing a hand to your chest before reaching for the veggies to lightly stir fry. 
“My bad, I should’ve said something. What are you making,” he asked, walking over to you. 
“Just spam kimbap,” you said shortly, keeping your eyes trained on the pan in front of you. You weren’t used to him being this casual with you. 
“Y/N,” he called, drawing your attention to his form now leaning against the counter, “Shouldn’t we be more casual with each other? You still call me Yoongi-ssi.”
“Oh,” you stuttered, “I suppose so.” This was maybe too much too fast. 
“How about it, Y/N-ah,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice.
“Um, sure, Yoongi,” you said, trying to turn your gaze back to your vegetables, how did he switch up his attitude so easily?
You heard him chuckle quietly before you transferred your veggies to another plate.
“Is there any way I can help,” you heard him and you had to stop yourself from automatically rejecting his offer. You could change your attitude too, it couldn’t be that hard. Hopefully.
“Sure, would you mind taking the rice out of the cooker and into a bowl on the counter,” you asked, to which he quickly obliged. 
This all felt a little too domestic, you weren’t ready for this level of familiarity. It was a difficult transition, to say the least. You were used to maintaining apathy toward Yoongi, at least, externally. Your body’s natural instinct now was to turn away from him and mind your expression, it was tough to turn that off. 
“Why don’t we both roll, it’ll get done faster that way,” Yoongi suggested, innocently looking at you from the other side of the counter, unaware of the turmoil brewing inside you. Why couldn’t you just relax around him?
“Sure,” you stuttered, making your way to the table so you could sit and roll. Yoongi sat down next to you, not a care in the world it seemed, and began expertly portioning ingredients and rolling the kimbap. 
You looked on in half-awe at his skill, your own hands slowing in their motions. Yoongi paused before looking at you, eyebrow raised.
“Oh, sorry,” you said, feeling heat flood your face, “I didn’t expect you to be so good at this.”
Yoongi only chuckled slightly before resuming his task, “Yeah, Jin hyung and I used to make these during the holidays, Jeongguk too once he was old enough.”
The fondness in Yoongi’s voice made you smile, “That sounds really nice. I can imagine Seokjin oppa being pretty strict in the kitchen.”
Yoongi laughed, a sound that was warm and pleasant to your ears, “Yeah, I always thought he’d grow up to be a chef.”
You nodded, you thought so too, having witnessed the way he forced the kitchen staff at their home to let him join in the cooking and play expeditor whenever you visited Joohee. 
You and Yoongi worked in a comfortable silence, entering a smooth rhythm of making the kimbap, ending with being delegated to slicing the rolls that Yoongi formed. Once you were both finished, you dug in, savoring the comforting flavor of the spam and stir fried vegetables. 
Yoongi sighed into his meal, eyes closed, “It’s been so long since I’ve had kimbap, especially homemade.”
Your eyes traced down his side profile, noting his rounded out cheeks from food and contented smile, “Yeah, it’s nice every once in a while.”
Yoongi opened his eyes, looking at you, “Yeah, it is.”
You felt embarrassed as your cheeks warmed from his eyes on you, but you tried to maintain composure. It was clear, you decided, that his effect on you had only increased since your conversation. 
It would be difficult to remain just friends, but it felt a little easier now that you knew you weren’t alone in your feelings.
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“What?”
“Are you serious?”
Joohee and Hoseok’s voices blended together as they shouted over each other on the video call. You giggled, shaking your head, “I still can’t believe it either.”
“That’s great, though, right,” Joohee asked, spooning another mouthful of noodles into her mouth, muffling her voice, “This is what you wanted right?”
The million dollar question. It was, wasn’t it? You felt content, and you were confident in that feeling for the first time in a while.
“Yeah,” you smiled, “It is. I’m happy that we’re starting as friends.”
“Y/N-ie,” Hoseok said softly, “You look so happy. I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you,” you smiled, squeezing the Pokemon plushie in your arms, “It feels really nice.”
Joohee sighed, “Damn, you’re making me feel really single.”
Both you and Hoseok laughed, making Joohee choke slightly on her ramyeon. Even while you were telling your friends, it still didn’t feel real. Your head felt foggy almost, like you were in a dream, but you’d pinched yourself multiple times since this morning to confirm your consciousness. 
“So why did you decide to just be friends? Wasn’t being together for real the whole point,” Joohee said after swallowing her noodles. 
You paused before answering, unsure of quite how to phrase it. To say you thought it through extensively before you’d proposed only friendship to Yoongi would be a lie, it came out of you before you could stop it. It was something you knew you needed to do, to make sure this was going to last, relationship or not. You hadn’t thought it out beforehand mainly because you hadn’t considered this outcome a possibility.
“I needed an anchor, I guess. I needed to know that this could work even if we didn’t get together, because we’re still married. And, I won’t deny it, I wanted to take it slow. I guess my feelings for Yoongi have been really shallow and I want them to be a bit more before we jump into a relationship,” you said, “I don’t know. Maybe that was the wrong move.”
“It absolutely wasn’t,” Hoseok said, sending you an encouraging smile through the screen. You could see the moving boxes piling up behind him now that he’d finally found an apartment he liked and was close to his future studio.
Joohee nodded in agreement, “Yeah, it’s better to start off as friends and work your way up. This relationship is already so unconventional, it’s good that you guys will be starting in a more grounded way.”
You smiled, the feeling of your friends backing up your decision made you feel more confident. 
“Are you feeling ready to go back to work tomorrow?”
Your smile slowly faded, thinking about the pile of work awaiting you after two weeks of absence. 
“Yeah, I’m excited to have something to do,” you started, fiddling with the pen at your desk, “But our main project got delayed by the devs again, looks like some performance issues after beta testing. We still have to move ahead so we’re in the late promotional phase now, looking at some influencer endorsements. I was thinking of asking Jeongguk, actually.”
Joohee grinned, “Yeah, that rascal will totally say yes. He’s smitten with you!”
You felt heat take over your face as you stared incredulously at Joohee, “What do you mean?”
“He just really likes you! I don’t think he has a lot of gamer friends, at least that he knows in person, so I think he’s just really excited to have you as a friend,” she explained, pushing her bowl to the side. 
“He told me he likes older women,” Hoseok said bluntly, making you choke on your sip of water. 
“What,” Joohee exclaimed, bringing her face much closer to the camera, “When did you talk to him?”
“We talked a bit at the wedding, he heard me mention the dance studio so we exchanged contacts because he was interested,” Hoseok detailed, “I mentioned offhand that it was hard to find a date in Seoul and he asked what my type was. Then he just said that he liked older women when I asked him the same.”
You stifled a laugh while Joohee didn’t hold hers back, making Hoseok join in too.
“Looks like Yoongi has some competition,” Joohee giggled.
“As if! I’m not into younger guys,” you wrinkled your nose.
“Except for that one hookup in our fourth year,” Hoseok interjected, “Wasn’t he a first year?”
You groaned, covering your face, “I didn’t know! He looked a lot older, and I thought we agreed not to mention that anymore!”
Hoseok and Joohee continued laughing, and even though it was at your expense, you couldn’t help but join in. The weekend had certainly been eventful, but closing your Sunday afternoon with the comfort of your friends left you feeling quite pleased. 
After ending the class with Hoseok and Joohee, you scrolled on your phone for a bit, catching up on unread messages and emails. 
Jimin’s apologetic message stood out to you and you finally typed out a reply, quelling his concerns and promising that he had done nothing wrong. You hadn’t mentioned the incident to Hoseok in case Jimin felt uncomfortable with it, so you were confident that the two of you could move past this easily. You also didn’t want things to get awkward between him and Hoseok right before they started up the studio.
A soft knock on your door drew your attention and had you get up from your relaxed position on your bed, opening the door up to Yoongi’s form.
“Hey, I just wanted to see if you had any plans for dinner,” Yoongi said, biting his lip and knitting together his eyebrows. If you didn’t know any better, he almost looked nervous. 
“No, I don’t, did you have something in mind,” you asked, inviting him inside your room. 
“Oh, well, there’s a nice restaurant that I like to go to for some good comfort food, if you’re good with that,” he said, fingers playing with the thread on his black pullover, distracting your gaze. 
“Yeah, that sounds good,” you smiled, “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
“Okay, great,” he said, a tad too loudly, before relaxing in his posture, “Great. I’ll meet you downstairs when you’re ready. You can dress casually, by the way.”
“Will do,” you smiled, why did he feel so awkward? Maybe he wasn’t as good at this as you had thought earlier in the kitchen. 
He quickly left, nodding a short goodbye before entering his room and shutting the door. You did the same, turning toward your closet entrance, pondering what to wear. Casual, right?
Your finger dragged along the hanging clothing in the closet, brushing the different fabrics. You picked out a soft cotton t-shirt that you got from a work event and some jeans, settling on the simple look with a comfy oversized jacket. 
Giving yourself a once-over, you deemed yourself presentable. You weren’t sure if Yoongi was already ready and waiting downstairs, so you left and made your way down there.
Yoongi was waiting in much the same outfit as he was in before, but switched out his sweatpants for some dark, straight legged jeans and put on a black snapback. He looked far more casual than you’d ever seen and it was a welcome sight. 
He smiled softly at you before tilting his head, “Ready to go?”
You nodded, slipping on your shoes by the door and walking out into the main hallway. Yoongi and you were silent on the elevator ride down to the garage. It felt a little awkward, but it was a different type of awkward than before. Where before you both didn’t know what to say to each other, now it felt more like you didn’t know how to say what you wanted to. You weren’t sure if that was better.
When you got down to the garage, Yoongi led you to a sleek black sedan, opening the passenger side door for you. You sent him a slightly confused smile as you got in and he clarified, “This is my personal car. I don’t use it that much daily because parking can be a hassle at the office, but it’ll be fine where we’re going.” 
“Oh, okay,” you responded, this mystery destination had started to feel a little bit ominous. As he walked around the car to the other door, you clicked in your seatbelt, wondering where exactly you were going. Yoongi slid into the driver seat, seamlessly starting up the car and clicking in his seatbelt. You saw him turn towards you, hand outstretched for a moment, before glancing down and retracting his hand.
He cleared his throat before switching gear and pulling out from his parking spot. Yoongi’s driving was smooth and relaxing, making you melt into the leather seats and stare out the window at the sun beginning to set. Yoongi had started up some soft jazz on his speakers making you further enjoy the quiet ambiance of the evening drive. 
After a little while, Yoongi pulled into a small parking lot, next to an empty grassy lawn near the Han river. Shutting off the engine, he quickly exited, speed walking around the car to open your door for you barely after you’d finished unbuckling. His dedication to chivalry made you chuckle softly, thanking him with a nod as you got out of the car. 
While you were distracted by the sight of city lights reflecting on the Han river in mesmerizing shimmers in time with the water current, Yoongi gently led you to an outdoor eating area with some plastic covers keeping out insects and smoke rising from the kitchen near the back. Delicious smells of cooking meat and seasoned vegetables filled your nostrils and you inhaled gratefully. 
Yoongi led you inside, nodding at the older woman by the counter and guided you to a two seater table in the corner. The older women quickly brought you drinks and side dishes, affectionately ruffling Yoongi’s hair before he prattled on an order of meats and veggies, letting you do the same after him. 
While you waited for your food to arrive, you took a moment to observe your surroundings further. It wasn’t what you were expecting, when Yoongi said he wanted to take you to dinner, but it was certainly welcome. The loud chatter and laughter from other tables fed into a cheerful environment and the gentle smoke from meat cooking made your stomach growl. 
Yoongi seemed to be quite familiar with the staff as well, leading you to question him, “Do you come here often?”
He smiled, shrugging his shoulders, “Not as often as I’d like to anymore. In college, though, I’d come here all the time with Namjoon and Jin hyung. The ahjumma there has been running this shop for over twenty years, I think, and she knows me fairly well by now.”
The thought of a college aged Yoongi sitting at these tables with his friends and enjoying charred pork on top of a bed of perilla leaves, laughing at something Seokjin said, made you smile. 
“Are you okay with coming here? Instead of a classier restaurant,” Yoongi asked, though he didn’t seem to be afraid of your answer. 
You shook your head anyway, “Of course I am, I’ve been craving some barbeque actually. Joohee, Hoseok, Mina and I used to go to these all the time in college too, but those were much closer to campus. The view is nicer here,” you finished, looking out onto the river through the almost see through plastic sheets.
“Mina,” Yoongi questioned, looking at you.
“Oh,” you stuttered, inwardly cursing yourself for letting that slip, “She was my ex, back in college.”
Yoongi nodded, not seeming too taken aback, “Makes sense. Those kinds of meals always made those college exams worth it.”
“Definitely,” you laughed.
The older woman approached your table balancing multiple trays and expertly set the food down in front of you. You didn’t have to cook your own meat here, so you and Yoongi immediately dug in and began wrapping the meat and vegetables in lettuce and cabbage. 
The two of you sat in a comfortable silence while you ate, too preoccupied with the food to really focus on conversation. As you both eventually slowed your eating, Yoongi began asking you basic questions, wondering about your work, friends, and hobbies. You happily answered him, returning the favor by diving into his own interests and life. It felt natural, like two people just hanging out and getting to know each other. 
You found that this was the most relaxed you’d felt in Yoongi’s presence so far, and it was definitely something you could get used to. Watching his cheeks puff up when he ate, his eyes close as he savored the flavor, and his smile as you answered his questions made you feel warm and lucid. 
You soon finished up and Yoongi stood to go pay, even though you’d offered.
“You can get it next time,” he’d said, smiling down at you. That made your cheeks flush and you had to look away from his gaze. 
The drive back to the apartment was calm and serene, the scenery of the river blowing by through the window. Your arm rested on the surface between the two front seats and you flinched slightly when you felt Yoongi’s elbow touch yours. His eyes remained forward but you spotted the red tinge to his ears, betraying his indifferent exterior. 
It was cute, you decided, chuckling quietly. You left your arm in its position, pressed against Yoongi’s. 
It was nice. 
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Yoongi collapsed onto his bed, breathless. Had this weekend even been real? The rollercoaster of emotions he’d experienced had left him reeling, from unimaginable guilt and self hatred to elation that you harbored feelings for him to a calm and quiet first date with you. 
He flipped over in bed, sighing into his pillow. It felt unbelievable what had happened in the past two weeks since he’d gotten married. He’d been so headstrong in protecting himself and drawing harsh boundaries, dealing with the confusion of growing affection for you from when your families had dined together all those months ago to now. 
As he donned his clothes for bed, he recalled your earlier proposition. To start as friends, he mused. It didn’t seem like a bad idea. Yoongi was well aware of the wrongs he’d committed against you and he was determined to make up for them. 
He wanted to take the opportunity to show you that he was a good person, despite how you two had started off. 
It wouldn’t hurt, either, that it’d give Yoongi the chance to get to know you better, something he was desperate for. He thought back to your dinner by the river, the way your skin glowed in the soft yellow lighting, tendrils of smoke framing your face, and the flush of your cheeks due to the warm atmosphere. 
You’d looked ethereal. 
He’d thoroughly enjoyed your conversation, reveling in being able to learn so much about you. You were slowly opening up and it was exciting, he’d been craving getting to see more sides to your usually stoic nature. 
Earlier that day, after your climactic conversation, he’d spotted you in the kitchen after his shower. You were humming along to a song he’d assumed was playing in your headphones, your hips were swinging gently, and your foot was tapping along to the beat. He’d stood there for a while, admiring your form loose and relaxed in front of the stove. 
He’d never seen you like that before, but he decided right there it was a sight he wanted to come back to every day.
It would a lie to say Yoongi wasn’t nervous about how quickly his feelings for you were developing. He had felt them building up during the wedding preparations, especially so during the rehearsal dinner and ceremony itself. But the way he was becoming overcome with fondness and affection for you was maybe a bit concerning. 
Another reason why your decision to start as friends was probably the right one. Yoongi wanted to savor every moment of falling for you, and you falling for him. He wanted to catch your eye from across the room and make you smile, he wanted to bring redness to your cheeks and make your eyes dart away, he wanted to feel his heart race when you smiled at him, cuddle with you on the couch during a movie, and feel your palm against his as you walked the streets of Seoul. 
As Yoongi fell asleep that night, he dreamed of a sweet and slow romance between you two and of daffodil petals in your hair. 
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hotmentransformed · 9 months ago
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No One Acts Like Gaston
When Alex first received the call from Disney offering him a position as a character actor at one of their parks, he was over the moon with excitement. After graduating with a BFA in Acting several years earlier, he had hardly been offered any work, so he was over the moon to work at the happiest place on earth. Eager to embark on this new adventure, he accepted without hesitation, not even bothering to ask which character he would be portraying.
Entering the park, Alex was greeted by a symphony of sights and sounds that filled him with wonder and amazement. Children laughed and squealed with delight, the air was alive with the promise of magic, and families posed for photos with beloved characters, an honor he would soon hold.
The anticipation bubbled within Alex as he approached the grand spires of Cinderella's Castle, shooting upwards like a beacon of dreams. His heart raced with excitement, each step bringing him closer to the realization of his lifelong ambition.
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As he marveled at the sights around him, Alex couldn't help but feel a sense of awe wash over him. This was it – the beginning of a new chapter in his life, a chapter filled with adventure, excitement, and the boundless possibilities of Disney magic. But before he could dwell on the moment for too long, a friendly voice interrupted his reverie: "Hey there, new guy! You ready to make some magic?"
Turning to see the source of the voice, Alex found himself face to face with a Disney cast member, their eyes twinkling with mischief and merriment. With a nod and a grin, Alex followed the cast member through the bustling crowds, and towards the double doors that read Cast Members Only.
As Alex stepped into the backstage area, the air crackled with excitement and anticipation. He could hardly contain his enthusiasm as he followed the seasoned Disney cast member through the bustling corridors. The cast member regaled Alex with stories of the magic that awaited him within the park's hallowed walls. Alex listened intently, his heart soaring with every word as he imagined the countless adventures that lay ahead.
As they approached a nondescript door labeled Character Costumes, the cast member turned to Alex with a knowing smile and pushed open the door to reveal a sight that took Alex's breath away: Row upon row of costumes stretched out before him, each one a vibrant tapestry of color and imagination. From the sparkling gowns of princesses to the swashbuckling attire of pirates, the room was a treasure trove of Disney magic, unlike anything Alex had ever seen. But as his eyes scanned the array of costumes, they came to rest on one in particular: a regal ensemble that seemed to pulse with an energy all its own. It was Gaston's attire from "Beauty and the Beast.” Confusion washed over Alex as he stared at the costume, his mind racing to catch up with the sudden realization of what was happening. "But… Gaston?" he stammered, turning to the cast member in disbelief. He was a small guy, maybe 5’ 8” on a good day and 120 soaking wet.
The cast member nodded with a reassuring smile. "Trust me, kid, you're gonna knock 'em dead," he said, clapping Alex on the back before ushering him into the locker room to get into costume and closing the door behind him.
Left alone with the costume amongst the lockers, Alex decided to give it a shot. He slipped into the too-large ensemble. Was he ready for this? Could he truly embody the larger-than-life persona of Gaston, the arrogant and boisterous villain of a beloved fairy tale?
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As Alex stepped into the Gaston costume, the fabric seemed to cling to him with an almost magnetic force, molding itself to his form in a way that felt simultaneously exhilarating and unsettling. At first, there was a faint prickling sensation, like pins and needles dancing across his skin. Then, a surge of energy pulsed through his veins, surprising him and causing him to lose his footing and stumble back onto the bench.
His limbs trembled as muscles he didn't know he possessed began to swell and ripple beneath the fabric. What was once a slender frame now burgeoned with newfound strength, his arms thickening with sinew and his chest expanding with each breath. The costume strained at the seams as if struggling to contain the sheer power that coursed through him. Stretching taller and taller, Alex felt his massive muscles elongate and shift, leaving him a gigantic 6'4". But it wasn't just his physique that changed. As Alex glanced down in disbelief at his massive legs and feet which now seemed miles away, he watched in awe as coarse tufts of hair sprouted from his skin, spreading like wildfire across his legs, and etching its way up his torso and onto his arms. The sensation was strange and unfamiliar, yet somehow right, as if this was the form he was always meant to inhabit. As he scratched the forest of hair on his massive chest, he felt... manly.
His face began shifting, his features sharpening and his jawline becoming more pronounced. A shadow of stubble emerged along his jaw, framing lips that curled into an arrogant smirk. Even his eyes seemed to change, gleaming with a newfound intensity that mirrored the character he now embodied. With each passing moment, Alex felt himself slipping further and further into the role of Gaston. His movements became more fluid, more confident, as if guided by some unseen force. His Adams apple, swelled, leaving his moans deeper and more resonant, booming and echoing with authority, his voice dripping with the same bravado that defined the character he now portrayed.
A surge of energy pulsed through him, and a strange sensation washed over his entire being. The world around him spun in a dizzying whirl, and Alex lost his footing and reached for support, only to stumble toward the doors to the main park and fall through. The sights and sounds of Disney World blended into a chaotic blur. Faces rushed past him, their voices a cacophony of excitement and laughter, but to Alex, they were nothing more than fleeting shadows in a swirling storm.
His head swam with confusion as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. "Where… where am I?" he muttered, his deep voice lost amidst the din of the crowd. He reached out, grasping for something – anything – to anchor him to reality, but found only the empty expanse of the park stretching out before him. In his disoriented state, Alex stumbled forward, his movements clumsy and uncertain. But then, as if guided by some unseen force, he felt a surge of power coursing through him, filling him with a newfound sense of purpose.
With a deep breath, Alex straightened his posture and squared his shoulders, channeling the boundless confidence of the character he now embodied. His steps grew more assured, his gestures more deliberate, until finally, Gaston arrived at his designated spot in the park.
Gaston stood before the eager parkgoers, flexing his muscles and flashing a cocky grin. Embracing his new role with all the bravado and charm of the legendary hero, he was ready to leave his mark on the magical kingdom of Disney in a way he never could have imagined.
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desi2go · 2 months ago
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Under the wide sky
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pairing: Jisung x reader
warnings: fluff
author's note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY JISUNG! I hope you will have a great day filled with joy <3<3<3<3<3<3<3
Imagine coming home after work and opening the front door of your shaired apartment with Jisung, your husband of one year. The house was dark and curious, where your husband is at the moment, you search the house. Finding a letter, taped onto the mirror in your bedroom, your name with his smooth handwriting on it. Gently, you placed your work bag beside the bed, opening the small letter.
Just like the romantic he were, it was a love letter, full of adoration and compliments. A poem meant for you and only for you.
Beneath the stars, where quiet whispers hum, A table waits, just for us to come. Candlelight flickers, soft and warm, Our rooftop haven, where love takes form.
The world below may rush and spin, But here, it's just us, let the night begin. I've set the scene, a perfect view, But all that's missing, my love, is you.
The city lights, like fireflies, glow, As the evening breeze begins to flow. So take my hand, come with me, To a dinner beneath the endless sea.
We'll share a meal, but more than that, We'll share our hearts, where love is at. Join me tonight, under the sky so wide, In our rooftop haven, where love can’t hide.
Just you and me, in the quiet of night, Together, forever, in the soft moonlight. So what do you say, my dearest, my life? Will you join me for dinner, my beautiful wife?
You chuckled at the poem and wondered how much time it has consumed to write such a masterpiece but your Jisung was a song writer after all and you preened with happiness to get such a wonderful letter. With a smile you hopped quickly into the shower, washing the dirt of the day off and then running back to your bedroom since you don't want Ji to wait too long. Who knows how long he is already up there?
You were just starting to rummage through your closet for something decent to wear when you noticed the beautiful black dress laid out on the bed with another small letter.
On our bed, a dress of midnight hue, Laid gently for my love, so true. A whisper of elegance, soft and fine, For tonight, my darling, you’ll truly shine.
Under the stars, where dreams take flight, We’ll dine together in the soft moonlight. A table set with love and care, Waiting for the moment we’ll share.
Slip into that dress, so sleek and bold, Let the night wrap you in its fold. For tonight, it’s just us two, In our rooftop world, beneath skies so blue.
So come, my love, when you’re ready, With steps so light, so sure, so steady. I’ll be waiting where the stars align, For a perfect evening, knowing you're mine.
Yours always, Jisung
You cooed at how cute that was. You knew that your husband loved to be romantic but this was too much for your heart to bear. you will surely die at how romantic he was. Gently, you slipped into the dress, observing your form in the mirror. It was gorgeous and absolutely breathtaking. You wondered where Jisung bought it because it was a masterpiece. It fit you perfectly, complementing every single curve of your body and then, down the waist, the skirt widely hugged your legs. And just then you noticed that it sparkled in the low bedroom light with every turn you did.
It was off the shoulder and showed off your cleavage with an amazing grace. Your back was exposed, just like Jisung loved it. It was like it rose up from a fairy tale, made by the fairy godmother herself.
Quickly, you brushed your hair and let it fall down your back in soft waves. In several minutes, you had covered your tired eyes with concealer and some mascara. Then, you stepped up the stairs to get to the rooftop. It was the main reason why you had bought this house after all. Both of you loved the stars and often observed the dark night sky whenever your schedules allowed.
The small door to your rooftop was already open, soft dimmed light of fairylights led your way. He must have hung them up alone and you could scold your husband for doing such things alone where he could fall of the ladder without anyone noticing. But you loved the gesture.
The cool night air was filled with the rhythm of slow music, something you never heard before and you could bet it was composed by Ji himself. When the lyrics danced through the dark, you knew you were right, it was indeed his angelic voice, low and soft, voicing sweet nothings.
"Hello my love" he greeted you and you finally stood eye to eye with your love of your life. His dark hair was perfectly styled and you absolutely adored the way his black suit hugged his body, a dark blue tie around his neck.
A huge boquet of flowers were in his hands, a variation, but mostly peonies, your favourite flower. "Hello, baby" you answered, a bright smile on your lips and you closed the distance between you. You pressed a soft kiss on his lips as he placed the boquet in your hands.
"You look beautiful. Not even the stars shine so bright" he flirted and you couldn't hold your laugh in. How much you loved his romantic demeanor. "You are a charmer, Han Jisung"
"I'm not a charmer. I'm just so in love with my wife" he whispered, pressing another kiss on your plush lips.
"I love you too" you grinned and took his hand in yours. "Come, dinner's ready" he lead you to the table, a white tablecloth spread out on it. You placed the flowers in the pot on the middle of the table. Jisung pulled the chair back and you sat down before he softly pushed it to the table. Then, he jogged around it to get to his own place.
The food was already in front of you, a plate full of spaghetti. It might be funny but it was your favourite meal even if it is simple. The smell let your mouth water.
"I made it myself" he told you proudly and you couldn't stop looking at him in awe. Usually, you were the one to cook due to his busy schedule and he most likely sets the kitchen on fire. Luckily, your house wasn't burning so you assumed that everything went fine. You hummed in delight when you munched on the food, talking about this and that with him.
After eating, you watched the stars, listening to his music until the next song came up, one that you knew all too well.
"Our wedding song! Come, baby, we need to dance!" You exclaimed excited and shot up from your place, dragging Ji with you. He laughed, following you either way. You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, the other one stayed in his hand. Slowly, his other sneaked around your waist, pressing you against his warm chest.
All you could do was staring up with sparkling eyes at the man who treated you like a treasure, not his princess but his queen. And you loved him so much. He was the one with whom you want to spend the eternity with. He catched the stars from the dark, wide night sky and gifted them to you like it was nothing.
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iiotic · 5 months ago
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The burnt memories | Human Alastor oneshot
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Human Alastor x Fem reader - one shot
summary: Moving in your hometown was awfully hard for you, staying with you mother you needed to find a job. However you were devastated after you got robbed and humiliated in the process. You remembered your childhood bestfriend but you can't seem to remember his name..
wc: 3k
tw: murder, kidnapping, stalking, Period-Typical racism, Period-Typical sexism, gore, bad English, this is extremely old, short one shot, Angst, childhood friends to strangers, the plot is happening rlly fast, ooc?, not proffread
a/n: originally this was suppose to be a fanfiction but since I really really not enjoy writing for hazbin hotel as I used to I turned it into an oneshot since I don't like my work go to waste. The plot is going rlly fast couse this was suppose to be a fanfiction y'all with a happy little ending where you'd end up with Alastor but I decided to change it a bit.
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Moving in your hometown was awfully hard for you. The feeling of nostalgia washed over you, as you saw the forest that you used to play in, when you were a kid. The trees have grown, indeed. You walked up to the old entry, that you and your friend created. It was extremely hard to expose the hidden and abandoned path for two small children. It took hours! However when you two finally succeeded, you had to go home since it was already late and you had to eat dinner.
You truly cherished the memories that you shared with your close ones here. You remembered every story like it happened yesterday. You were a bit shocked to see the path fully exposed. Back in the old days, it was only a little hole that only children could fit it. Half of you was happy, knowing that you won't have to crawl and struggle through the hole that didn't exist anymore. However the other half of you was disappointed, 'cause your hard work got wasted.
Deciding to take a scroll through the forest, you followed the familiar path. Noticing how half of the forest turned into an hunting area, you weren't surprised at all. The hunting season was just around the corner and you were not happy about that. You moved into your old household as your father decided to leave your mother alone. She needed your help and you provided it as you loved your mother dearly. He, himself found a better house in a wealthier area. Unfortunately for you, your house was very close to the once so familiar forest. When you were little everything looked so big and magical but now? The magic had dissapered from the once fairy tale space.
Turning around on your heel, you faced with an abandoned playground. Kids, including you, used to play here a lot. You were shocked when you saw it in its terrible state. The slide dirty with mud and weird black substances, rotted and once more, everything was terribly rotted. After a while of thinking, you began to understand why this place went abandonment. Really, whose idea it was to put a playground inside of a forest?
Continuing your scroll, you began to remember your old childhood friend. What was his name? You couldn't remember. You didn't believe that you forgot such an important thing. His whole face was a blur, yet you still remembered that charming smile of his. Somehow he always managed to make you smile and laugh. You started wondering if he is still as funny as he was in the past. Wait.. Does he still live here? Does he still remember you? You hoped that the answer to both of these questions were positive.
By the time you came back home it was already dark. Walking in, you greeted your mother, apologising for taking so long. She just brushed it off saying that "you don't have to spend all of your life in this house." Chuckling a bit you mentally agreed with her.
Looking around, your eyes were met with your luggage that you did not unpack yet. A sigh escaped your lips as you made your way over to your belongings. The truth is that you were too exhausted to unpack them, however you knew that they just wouldn't unpack themselfs.
Walking into your old room, that holds so much lovely memories from your childhood, you noticed a newspaper on the floor. April 11th, 1929, yesterdays date. Your mother must have opened the window in your room, and the newspaper must have flew it way in here. Dropping your belongings, you just noticed the cold temperature in the room. Freezing even. Closing the window you picked up yesterday's newspaper to look at it.
The axeman of New Orleans attacked again!
There's an axeman going around? How didn't you know that there's a murderer in the place where you grew up in? Anxious, you decided to sit down on your bed and read the rest of the article.
Time flew by and you grew more and more disappointed of the news you just read. No wonder father moved out you thought leaving the newspaper on your nightstand and rubbed your eyes. Tommorow will be a hard day and you knew that. The luggages didn't unpack themself yet so you had to finally do it. Wanting to forget about the informations that you acknowledged you moved to your belongings and started unpacking.
There wasn't really a lot of things there; just some clothes, hygiene stuff, basic writing supplies and some of your most important things that you could never get rid of.
9 pm. That was the time on the clock when you finished unpacking. Exhausted you rolled in your bed, not even thinking of changing into your pijamas. Your mind started to thrift to the events that happened today. The memories of your childhood were truly worthy being in an museum.
Just as you were about to fall asleep, your mind decided to remind you of him, once again. Wait.. What if he was killed my the axeman? You truly hoped that it wasn't true. You thought that maybe, just maybe you two could get the chance to catch up. However the promise.. You had no idea why didn't he keep the promise. Before you could think more about it, your eyes closed by themself.
"Tag, You're it! " You giggled before running deeper into the forest. You heard footsteps mixing with your own behind you, signalling that he was chasing you. Turning, and making an unexpected turn, you failed to notice how your dress got all muddy. You had no idea that you would get scolded after you'd came back home by your mother.
You laugh, as you turned around to see that you successfully lost your friend. Hiding in a bush that slightly tore your dress, you waited for him to give up or to just walk by so you could scare him.
"Boo!"
You screamed as, to your suprise, your friend found you. "not fun.." You mumbled as he helped you get up. "You cheated!"
"I didn't!" He argued, giggling a bit at your indignation. "You're just too easy to catch."
"No i am not!" You gasped in annoyance.
Your argument went on and on, you accusing him of cheating and him defending himself as he told you that he just creeped behind. Before you knew it your legs were leading the way to your houses.
Soon enough it was time to say your goodbyes as you both were standing beside your homes.
"Despite everything, I enjoyed hanging out with you today, ..." Your younger self confessed to him. Wait, him? You clearly heard you say his name. Why couldn't you remember it? Why couldn't you remember his name.
Before you knew it, you were dragged to a pitch black hole. You wanted to scream, but for some reasons you couldn't manage to utter anything.You turned around as you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Nothing was there. You gasped when something dragged you by your legs, finally screaming to let you go.
You jumped out of your bed, sweating in a middle of the night. You could hear the birds chipp as the rain continued to pour rather aggressively.
It was just a nightmare.
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"I still don't understand why you have to leave so early, pumpkin?" Your mother asked worringly, her eyes showed that she isn't very sure of what you're trying to do.
"The sooner, the better!" You declared with determination. You were confident with what you're trying to do, hoping that you will find a job in an maximum week. "Can't waste any time, love you, bye!!" You yelled, closing the door behind you. You didn't need any negative energy around you.
Walking down the alley, you turned around to go to the busier side of the town. Head up high, heels clicking with every step you took, your eyes scanning all of the shops that were near you. However there was one that caught your attention..
Stepping in the boutique, you noticed how clean and neat it was. All of the newest dresses, coats and jewelry displayed for customers eyes. You could get used to it..
Walking up the counter, you rang a little bell on it. You jumped as your heard a sudden voice behind you.
"Good morning dear, do you need any help?" An older woman asked you, moving to face you behind the counter. You could tell that she was in her 50s.
"um.." You looked at her, still startled, not knowing what to say. You thought that you would have some time to think about it. She looked at you with a confused look and you took it as a signal to finally say something.
"I was wondering if you need help. I mean if you need help with the job.. around the boutique." You finally uttered. Fixing your clothes and straightening your posture to look presentable. Her umber eyes staring into your determined ones.
"I apologize sweetie, but i'm not looking for any workers at the moment" Her mode shifted a bit when she saw your sad look. You were disappointed, even though you knew that you won't get a job at your first try.
"That's fine, do you by any chance know someone or an shop that is short on staff?" You asked, with hope in your eyes.
"Unfortunately." she looked down and started searching for something behind the counter. "However i could contact you if I'll acknowledge any in the area? I know how it is looking for a job these days." Before you could think about what she said, the woman asked you for your name. Giving you her number; in case you wanted to contact her, after writing your own name down on an another card.
"Thank you so much ma'am." You thanked her after introducing yourself. "It means a lot to me."
"Oh! No need to be so formal. Call me Louise." You gave the woman a kind smile, before repeating her name and saying your goodbye.
You had plenty of time left, it was only nine am, and now you were questioning yourself why'd you leave this early. Pheraps your mother was right, after all. Eyeing all of the buildings around you, you decided to go to a florist next.
Before you could take another step a young boy stopped you.
"Miss, would you like to buy a newspaper? They're only 15 cents each!" You looked at him, at the newspaper that he was holding and back at him. Pheraps it would be useful. You could tell that the little bit was struggling, wanting to earn some money. So were you.
"of course, little one."
He smiled widely at your response waiting for you to find your money. You handed him the 15 cents shortly after, in exchange, earning today's newspaper. Before you could thank him, he already run off. Confused you looked back at the newspaper you were holding, about to read it.
Wait a second..
That's yesterday's newspaper! This little boy tricked you. These kids these days.. You sighed, not having the strength to run after him, continuing your way to the flower shop.
Soon enough you arrived at your destination, the bell rang as you stepped into the shop.
Looking around you were fascinated with the interior, everything looked so pretty that you couldn't get enough of it. The different types of flowers; Roses, Tulips, hibiscus..
And Oof!
"I'm so sorry mr.. I was in the way." You apologized as you bumped into a rather tall stranger. His skin was in the shade of caramel and his hair just slightly darker. He looked at you almost out of pity, is he making fun of you?
"No need to apologize, clearly I wasn't looking where I was heading as well." He calmly explained, fixing his coat from any dust that could get on it. "If I may ask your name, dear?"
You quickly introduced yourself, putting your head up for him to shake it, to your dismay he didn't even touch you.
"Well what a lovely name for such a lovely lady like yourself! My name? Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you."
"Alastor? Did I know someone names Alastor?" You thought but quickly recovered. As flawless as this conversation was going you had to continue your journey. Excusing yourself from the gentleman you began asking for a job once again.
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"Woman. What makes you think that this is a job for a woman?" The man behind the lada laughed at you, shooing you out of his establishment. "A woman could never handle a job as tough as this one."
You wanted to cry, you truly did. This was the 6th building you visited today, all of them didn't need help and it was already getting dark. Devastated you left the store, not wanting to get even more humiliated. Your next stop? Your house. You thought about how dissapointed your mother must be in you, you'd can't want to look her in the eyes.
As you were walking, step by step by your childhood forest you heard some bushes rustling behind you, now you felt like you were getting watched. Paranoid you turned on your heel to look behind you.. No ones there. You let a sigh of relief, but before you could turn around you felt yourself getting sleepy..
Dark.
That's what you saw, everything dark and even darker. You squinted your eyes after opening them to not get blinded by the light. After you got used to it, you looked at your surroundings..
Basement, you were in a basement? How did you end up here, you don't remember. Your head hurts like hell and your mind 8s spinning. Trying to get up you failed miserably and only hurt yourself by the chains you were chained up to. "what..?" You thought.
"And that I am dizzy with a dame like you." You heard a familiar voice behind you, wanting to turn around but couldn't as you were chained up. "don't worry I'll make it quick for my lady."
Opening your mouth to speak, to whisper, to scream.. You realized you couldn't do any of those, your mouth stuffed with something.
"You're probably wondering where are you? who am i? what is this man gonna do to me? aren't you? Well.." The sound of loud metal could be heard in the entire basement as he hit you with a metal pipe on the head. You were quickly losing blood, a stray of blood coming from the insides of your head, from your nose, from your mouth. Before you passed out you did that you heard his last words to you or rather to himself..
"I don't need any disturbance in my life, I don't need love its a distraction."
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ALASTOR MASTERLIST
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torusangel · 1 year ago
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My love, mine all mine | Gojo Satoru
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Description: A boy who has everything, and a girl who only has her love.
Warnings: fluff, mentions of abuse (not by Toru), maybe more but this is what I got right now
A/N: Inspired by Mitski of course. I wrote this all in one sitting and I’m just posting this preview of it to gauge interest right now to see if I should continue this or not! I kinda want to change it but I also think it’s charming so why not just put it out there and see how it goes? This isn’t edited or proof read at all either so might be a mess lol
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People told you often that you wore your heart on your sleeve. Never one to shy away from how you really felt, you floated through life leaving your emotions to run free. You laughed, cried, hurt, and loved. Maybe loved too much, too strongly, too powerfully because the love you gave away would end up growing so strong that it hurt you too. There were people in your life who gave you love as well, but you soon realized that people could take that love away. Leave you with only your love to give, nothing else was ever yours, their hearts too easily taken back, promises broken without the bat of an eye, their whispers washed away by the wind.
You wanted to protect your love. After all, love was all you had left. As a little girl fairy tales and stories of princesses with their perfect prince gave you imagination. You dreamed of such devotion, for someone to sweep you off your feet and make you feel like the most precious girl in the world. You held love close to your heart. It’s what made you strong, and yet so fragile. Love fluctuated like that. Some days it’d have the power of a raging storm, able to tear down anything in its path, and some days it’d be so weak and meager that it would break with the flick of a finger. It was inconsistent.
Ever since you were a child your mother was the one who so adamantly taught you about love. She’d tell you how love was the most important thing in life, how you should never give up on your love and to hold onto it and never let it go. How love was what kept you alive. To live without love wasn’t living at all, and the importance of giving love. You saw her crumble and break under life’s trials and tribulations, the way she’d fall when your father hit her. You saw her dance in the living room all alone to music you couldn’t hear and the way her smile grew when you said you’d give your love to her. Your mother through all her hardships still had so much love to give. Sometimes you wondered if the reason your father was so angry was because he knew he didn’t have all of her.
Satoru grew up with everything. Born into a prestigious family, money bought him whatever he desired. He was the definition of spoiled through and through. He never found it strange that his father was always gone and his mother refused to look at him. Everyone around him said he was so lucky, so that’s how he always thought. People admired him, and as he grew up he realized he could make anyone love him. Satoru knew he was handsome, paired with his wealth he found that was the key to make anyone he wanted fall for his charms. Gojo Satoru always got everything he wanted except you.
When he first met you it was at the cafe on campus. Something about the way you carried yourself drew him in. He saw you and the confidence you held, the beauty in your stride, and he knew he had to have you.
When he first approached you that day you thought he was strange. He’d asked you out without a care if you rejected him or not, you later realized it wasn’t that he didn’t care he just never knew rejection in the first place. He said he’d take you anywhere you wanted.
“The moon, could you take me to the moon?” you asked him in earnest. For a split second you noticed his face change from flirty to confused but he easily bounced back.
“I’ll take you right now, how about it?”
Not one to say no to an interesting opportunity, you accepted.
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dfortrafalgar · 8 months ago
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I'm Losing You
Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.
Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. This story is over halfway done now!
Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock
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Chapter 17
[Prev] [Next]
It had taken about five hours for your body to fully pass the miscarriage, and during that time you were transferred into a more private room in the emergency wing where a labor and delivery doctor from the hospital’s maternity ward assisted with the pain management.  Not like you were psychologically there, and neither was Law.  You had repeated your behavior from previously, your mind’s go-to defense mechanism being to completely shut down, forcing your eyes closed in a feeble attempt to crawl out of your skin and escape reality.  The reality being you, sitting on a toilet in the tiny bathroom of the private room, a bedpan under your body and the L&D doctor, who you wouldn’t speak to, occasionally offering shallow words of support as you hunched in pain with each agonizing cramp that washed through you.  Law kept his eyes trained on your face the entire time, every exhausted contortion of your muscles as ripples of cramps waved through you throughout the seemingly endless seconds of your time in the private room.
When Law saw it, what had left your body, his lunch evacuated from his stomach into the nearest garbage can.  Maybe it was the way it looked, or the fact that the doctor from L&D was holding it in a cold metal bedpan of all things, or maybe the stress of it all finally caught up to the jaded heart surgeon and he settled it by losing his stomach contents.  You didn’t look at it, keeping your eyes closed, desperately wishing to be in your bed at home.
It was clearly going to be a human.  All of the early human-like traits were there.  Two arms, two legs, a head, a body, but it was still so far away from actually being a person.  It barely had what could be called skin, if anything its external appearance seemed more like a glass frog, only a fleshy red color and not green.  That is to say, Law could see the beginnings of organs inside the shape that rested in the chamber pot.
Law started to judge the gravity of calling the fetus an ‘it.’  The doctor holding the bedpan said it was going to be a boy, based on what she called the ‘Nub Theory,’ and was about 12 weeks along, before she cleaned you up and took the almost-boy away to be discarded somehow.  Law’s mind flashed back to the young boy in the CICU who had passed away a few months ago, and the mother who was so distraught that she left Law with a bruise that took two full weeks to fully heal.
He wondered if you cried like that in the ambulance when he wasn’t there to help you.
He wondered if you would’ve hit him, too.  No… you would never.  Not even in your most distraught, vulnerable state would you do that.
Law felt his stomach twist once more for even thinking about you in such a way.
But when he looked at the almost-human in the bedpan, he had to remind himself that the fetus was yours.  That would have been your son.  That would have been his son.
And the actions of that mother in the cardiac ward, hearing her son pass away surrounded by nurses, her screams of agony and despair at having to go home without her little boy, suddenly made a lot more sense to Law.
And for the first time since the two of you had started trying for a baby, he started questioning if he was really meant to be a father.
“Give me everything that happened,” Law’s pointed glare and monotone words spoke volumes to Ikkaku and Shachi who sat uncomfortably across the small table in the hospital’s cafeteria.  Robin had arrived after her clinic closed to assess your condition, and Law took the brief opportunity to get the details from the two that were with you before he arrived.
“We were eating lunch outside, the group of us,” Ikkaku started.  “Throughout the day she seemed like she was in more pain than usual, but during lunch it seemed to be getting pretty bad.  She went inside to use the bathroom and apparently fainted in the reception area of the office.  We all came back inside when some of our other coworkers were trying to get her to come to, and she started bleeding heavily so we finally called an ambulance.  I tried to call your phone but it went right to voicemail, so I called Shachi to meet us here.”
Law’s posture was eerily still.  “How was the ambulance ride over?”
Ikkaku was clearly growing uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of her best friend’s husband, but she mustered through her discontent and continued to relay her recent memories.  “She woke up when the ambulance got there, and I think she saw the blood in her pants and started to have a panic attack.  She was refusing to go with the paramedics so they… kinda… manhandled her onto the stretcher.  She was screaming and trying to get away so they tied her down.”  The curly-haired woman used her hands to display a crude image of what she was seeing in her head.  “They strapped down her legs and arms and put her neck in one of those plastic brace things to keep her still, and all of that was before the ambulance even left the parking lot.  She couldn’t even move in the ambulance, but they took off all of her jewelry because they were ‘concerned for her safety.’  I said they were stupid, and they told me to watch my language.”
The black-haired man’s teeth ground against each other in his mouth as he remembered a similar retelling from one of the nurses in your room, the excuse for your wedding ring being missing being out of caution for yourself.  Clearly, the situation was a bit more nuanced, but he didn’t wish to strike up some form of argument with his close friends right now.  Thankfully, your wedding ring had been returned to him a few minutes before you were wheeled to the private room, and was tucked safely in the pocket of Law’s slacks.
Shachi piped up, keeping his voice low.  “When I got here she was still crying and screaming, there was a nurse that came up to her on the stretcher and put her hand over her mouth and told her to be quiet.  I honestly wanted to slap her for that.  I mean, what kind of nurse tells a crying woman to shut up?”
An understandable question indeed.  Law ran an incredibly tight ship in his cardiac ward, with his nurses and fellow doctors being well-rounded individuals who worked incredibly under the high pressure environments in and out of the operating room, and based on what Law had seen and heard throughout the afternoon, he was starting to wonder if his was the only department that behaved somewhat normally.
“Sorry for calling in the middle of a surgery, by the way,” mumbled Shachi, awkwardly rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.  
“Don’t be, you couldn’t have known,” Law replied, his own voice low and pensive.
“Law, are you okay?” Ikkaku asked, reaching her hand across the table and giving a friendly pat to the doctor’s forearm which lay across his side of the table.
The man bowed his head, hiding his clearly bloodshot and exhausted eyes behind the feathery wisps of his black hair.  He could feel his mouth growing dryer by the second, his nose still sore from wiping away the snot caused by his crying, his lips dry and chapped with the way he gnawed on them in the failed attempt to keep his sobs at bay.
“No, I’m not,” was all he said.
Ikkaku and Shachi shared nervous, anxious glances with one another.
The redhead reached his own hand forward now, tapping it gently against the surface of the table in Law’s field of vision.  “Do you want us to bring you anything?  Snacks… water… something to read…”
“No thank you, but if you could go and check on Bepo that would be great,” Law muttered, turning down his friend’s offer faster than he probably should’ve.  “Thank you guys for telling me everything, I’m going to go back to her room.”  He turned his back on his two concerned friends before they had the chance to muster out their goodbyes, hoping that he could hide his face once more to quell the oncoming tears that threatened to fall for a second time.
Law hated crying.  He always hated crying.  Crying left him feeling more exhausted than a 12 hour surgery.  Crying left him feeling weak and defeated, like a dehydrated, shriveling plant that gets left to deteriorate on a scorching windowsill.  Throughout his entire life, he had only truly cried a total of three times.  Once when he lost his family in their house fire.  Twice when his adoptive father figure was murdered before his very eyes.
And three times today, weeping over your form over the baby that was lost.  Again.
The hallways of the main corridor were uncharacteristically empty as Law’s feet dragged his fatigued body down the tiled hallways, his shoes scuffing the floor with each labored step.  He fought desperately to control his breathing, his lungs feeling like they were filling with water, his body fighting for life.  How pathetic he was.  You were the one in pain.  You were the one losing the baby.  So why was he getting so worked up?  Why was he letting himself fall?
In sickness and in health.
“FUCK,” Law lost control of his vocal chords as he shouted into the empty hallway, the only witness to his outburst being the LED lights on the ceiling, illuminating his shame.  He hadn’t consciously registered the way his body contorted, his hand balling into a fist as he drove his limb into the wall next to him, the force of the blow making him grimace.  A sizable dent was left where his knuckles had impacted the drywall, blood beginning to seep from the skin of his tattooed fingers as he let his knees buckle and send him to the floor.  He slumped against the wall, gazing at the back of his hand.
D  E  A  T  H
Law was an edgy undergraduate.  He funneled his trauma, his insecurity, his distaste for life into his studies, drowning himself in textbooks and medical demonstrations, filling the blank spaces in his psyche with music that shared the same disdain for the world as he did.  He littered his skin with marks that spoke to him, the marks of his family and the marks of death.  He didn’t care if the tattoos on his fingers gave him less chances of getting into medical school, he did what felt was right.  He had escaped death more times than a kid ever should have, and the ink in his skin was a testament to that.
You had poked fun at the symbolism on the day you first met him.  A doctor with the word ‘DEATH’ written on his hands was an ironically funny image.  You had said something along the lines of, “I think I would trust my doctor more if he had ‘DEATH’ on his hands.  At least it would make more sense if he happened to kill me.”
Law had scoffed at that.  His tattoos were nothing to joke about.  But he came back to you because of the smile that rested on your lips as you laughed, the way the skin around your eyes creased with your happiness.  You were a magnet pulling him into your embrace.  Suddenly, the blank spaces in his mind previously filled with depressing music were filled with the image of you.  Your smile, your eyes, your bubbly giggle, the alluring smell of your perfume, the way you filled every room with light, the way you brought joy to the lives of your friends, your nerdy talks, your voice as you sang along to his music in the passenger seat of his car…
Hot tears plopped onto the tiled floor, some hitting the skin of his knuckles, making the bleeding wounds sting with the foreign contact as Law remained slumped against the wall, staring blankly at his hands as the wounds on his fist continued to ooze dark red blood.  He missed his mother, his father, his little sister.  He missed the way his mother would wipe his tears away with the sleeve of her shirt, kissing his forehead and ruffling his thick black hair.  He missed the way his sister would cling to him on the playground, relying on her strong older brother for support.  He missed his adoptive dad, the freakishly tall, clumsy, blonde ex-marine reserve who smoked indoors and would leave accidental burn marks on his clothes.  He missed the way his dad would pick Law up like he was weightless, singing praises to the child’s accomplishments, even the most menial.  Law always told you how he wished his family could have met you, how they easily would have adored you for everything you brought into his previously dark life.  He wondered what his family would say to him now, as he sat on the cold floor of the hospital’s main campus, alone, bleeding from his hand.
“They’d be proud of you.”
Law’s golden eyes opened at the sound of the voice coming from in front of him.  Shachi was crouched directly in front of him, a soft smile gracing his crooked mouth as he used his shoulder to support himself against the wall in front of his friend.
“I know you.  You’re thinking about Cora and your family, aren’t you?” he asked, retaining his cheeky personality but flooding his words with an air of unabashed kindness.
Behind him, Ikkaku stood, her own eyes welling with overwhelmed tears, but standing and blocking Law from the lights that shone down on his defeated form.  She too had a small smile on her lips.
Shachi moved to stand upright, grabbing Law’s arm and hauling the taller man to his feet.  Law barely stepped forward to pull his friend into a back-breaking hug, releasing everything he was bottling up into the shoulder of his best friend.  Shachi’s arms supported Law, hugging the man back and squeezing him with the might only a life-long friend could have.  
“You’re doing great, Law,” the redhead whispered.
Nobody spoke a word as the two led the doctor back to your room in the emergency ward.  Law’s tears continued to fall, his hand finally clotting.  
When he rounded the corner of your room, you were standing upright, your body wrapped in a fabric hospital gown, your own cheeks puffy with the force of your own crying.  Robin was supporting your arm as you were about to lay back down on the bed, but as you witnessed Law enter your room once more, supported by your two best friends, you pushed past your doctor and threw yourself into the waiting arms of your husband.  His hands circled around you, your personal shield, your knight, holding you against his trembling body as his tears fell into your hair, as his head dipped down to hide in your shoulder and as your own face buried into the crevice of his neck, your unending tears soaking his shirt.  The world vanished around the two of you as you stood in his embrace.
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stellar-solar-flare · 3 months ago
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A Fairytale Of A Disaster | S.R.
Chapter 2: Looking For The Happy Ending
Explicit - 18+ only! | Steve Rogers/Doctor!Reader
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Your friend set you up with a perfect guy. Unfortunately, when it's time for you to meet 'Grant' for the first time, he has stood you up. On Valentine's Day of all days.
Was it too good to be true? Or does he instead have a very, very good reason why he's late, and a desire to make it all up to you?
FIC MASTERLIST | AUTHOR MASTERLIST | AUTHOR AO3
<< Previous chapter
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Fluff, hurt/comfort, meet-cute, misunderstandings, eventual smut, healthy communication. | Background Sam Wilson/OFC.
Chapter Word Count: 2696 words.
Reader Specifics: She/her, late twenties (a few years younger than Steve in this fic). Training to be a trauma surgeon (has completed med school, in residency stage). Likes books and houseplants. No description of appearance (other than clothes and such), no use of Y/N.
A/N: I wanted to write a Valentine's Day oneshot, and then it turned out it has parts. Oh no. Well, here we are. I hope you enjoy this fluffy little trope collection! As always, thank you for reading, and hearing what you think means a lot to me.
Alternate Universe: The Avengers Initiative continued SHIELD's work after its collapse to corruption. The Avengers are living together in the Compound - Bucky has healed, and Civil War never happened because Tony and Steve worked through their differences like adults.
Chapter Warnings: Discussion of Steve's canonical trauma; mentions of Steve/Peggy.
I do not own anything Marvel related. This is an unofficial fan work. No copyright infringement intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.
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Chapter 2: Looking For The Happy Ending
A part of you was really, really glad that you had decided to order the wine; you could feel your nerves flaring up, now that the initial surprise at the evening’s direction had passed. It was less so that he was Captain America, the literal superhero, the most eligible bachelor in the entire country according to many, and more so that his musky scent and his warm presence were going straight to your head. It felt like on some level, after all the conversations, you already knew who he was, but messages couldn’t have prepared you for everything. Like how the sheer presence this man had, how he could simply stand next to you and send off a signal that he was completely aware of you, was making your head spin. Feeling some initial curiosity and a little crush over messages was one thing; being hit in the face with the raw, sparkling physical attraction you were feeling was quite another. And even as you didn’t exchange words — too much attention here, too many ears listening — you could see Steve stealing looks at you over the brief minutes you waited.
You weren’t quite so sure any more that you didn’t believe in fairy tales.
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The car arrived so fast that you were at least half-certain that Steve had carried it with him, tucked into his back pocket with the assistance of some Tony Stark’s bordering-on-magic technology. You barely had time to get your food back in a cardboard takeout container and finish the glass of wine before Steve glanced at his smartwatch and told you that the car was waiting.
You reached for your purse to pay the bill, and he stopped you with a gentle hand placed on your forearm. He’d slipped into the bathroom earlier to wash the worst of the dirt off his hands and face, and now, when he wasn’t afraid of making a mess out of you — oh, your subconscious needed to get things together or you weren’t going to survive this night — you could feel the entirety of his palm pressed on your bare skin.
“Please. Let me. That’s the least I can do for having kept you waiting,” he murmured, his eyes in yours.
He was already going to cook for you; you thought about arguing about the fact, but looking into his eyes, it was clear that this was very important to him. You could have afforded it, certainly, and it did feel a little unfair to let him pay when he hadn’t been enjoying the food at all. But since he was on Tony Stark’s payroll, you doubted the few drinks, the appetizer, and the fish and chips you now held under your right hand were going to make much of a dent in his cash. If it made him feel better…
“Only if you insist,” you replied after a beat, smile on your face.
“Oh, I do,” he smiled. “A lady never pays on the first date. That’s the rule. Especially when I asked her out.”
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Apparently, Steve’s rules for a first date also included helping you into your coat and paying for the tip of the person working in the cloakroom. His hands were warm when they brushed against your shoulders as you slipped into the coat he was holding up, even as he didn’t linger. It seemed that he ran hot, or that the suit had some sort of temperature regulation built into it, because he didn’t seem to mind stepping from the warm restaurant into the cold February evening. The biting wind made you huddle deeper into your coat for the few steps from the door to the car waiting at the curbside.
“Ladies first,” Steve smiled, reaching to open the front passenger door of the decidedly nondescript black SUV.
Before you could ask, you realized that the driver’s seat was empty.
When he’d mentioned calling the car, you had obviously assumed that he’d be calling someone to drive you over to the Avengers Initiative Campus upstate; instead, he had literally called the car.
“It’s not on the public market yet,” Steve said, answering your wordless question. “Something Tony’s been tinkering with. It’s easier if we have vehicles stashed here and there in fully automated garages.”
“For date-related emergencies?” you grinned as you slipped into the seat, guiding your skirts with a hand as you did.
“Among other things. Although I don’t find myself in this situation very often,” he said as he closed the door after a quick glance to check that your skirt wasn’t going to get caught in the door. “It isn’t the kind of guy I want to be.”
He was smiling, but there was something underneath his tone. For the few seconds it took for him to go around the car and settle in to the driver’s seat after tossing the shield in the backseat — heedless of the white leather of the car and the grime on his suit — you thought about it.
It couldn’t be easy for him to date; not with the reputation and the fame attached to his title. And not with the demands of his job causing all sorts of delays and rain checks; all the emotions coming through his voice had already told you as much. He would’ve accepted it if you hadn’t been willing to give him a second chance after almost standing you up. He would’ve left it there and never bothered you again. And yes, perhaps that would’ve been fair — there was nothing wrong with not wanting to deal with your significant other having a job like that. But the same could also be said about your job.
Instead of replying immediately, you let him focus on merging into the traffic, even as you realized that compared to the things he usually did, driving — even in New York — was probably as easy as breathing. You shifted in your seat to recline more comfortably.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re that guy,” you replied. “Not the one to keep someone waiting without a very good reason, and not someone who dates just for the thrill.”
He gave you a chuckle in reply, but something about the way he glanced at you was so warm that it tingled in your veins.
“Thank you. And it does mean a lot. I can’t say I…” he murmured, his eyes back on the road again and you were certain it wasn’t just about the traffic. “I didn’t exactly have the easiest time concentrating today. I kept thinking that I’d blown the chance to have something great once again, that the world had again decided that I wasn’t making it to a date.”
His words lingered in the air for a few seconds, during which you very clearly understood what he was talking about. Of course, it was ancient history in more ways than one, but everyone knew the story of Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter and the dance that had needed one hell of a rain check because he had sacrificed himself to save the world from the alien weapon. After the seconds ticked by, he glanced at you again, redness on his cheeks and something panicked in his eyes.
“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, I don’t… I’m not comparing, I don’t want to compare, I’m not looking for any sort of replacement for a road not traveled, it’s just…”
He sighed, trailing off again. His eyes stared forward, and his hands squeezed the wheel of the car hard enough that they might leave finger-shaped dents behind. Finally, he spoke again, something resigned in his voice:
“I’m sorry. Look, if you don’t want to do this, if you don’t feel like you’re up for this after that, just say the word and I’ll drop you off where you want,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to make you feel like you’re a second choice or anything like that. I’m obviously not great at this and if you don’t want to deal with that… ”
“Hey,” you said very softly. “No need to go looking for a grenade to throw yourself on, Captain. This isn’t an army camp.”
You reached over, letting your fingertips brush the top of his hand right there on the edge of where the wrist turned into the back of his palm. He glanced over at you again as you sank back to your seat, and even with the brief contact, you didn’t miss the fragile hope in his gaze.
“I’d rather hear how you feel than leave this car,” you continued. “I don’t think there’s anything very surprising about those things crossing your mind, and it doesn’t have to be about comparison. Obviously being faced with rather similar circumstances to the ones that were present when something very traumatic happened to you would bring up memories. Of events, and of people.”
Some of the tension drained away from Steve’s shoulders, but the chuckle that left his mouth was a little joyless.
“You’re pretty good at that,” he said.
“I’ve trained,” you raised your brows. “Comes with the skillset. But seriously, I’d understand if you need a rain check after what has obviously been a pretty intense day for you. We could plan something else.”
Your eyes flickered back to that cut on his chest, visible through the tear in the suit. The wound was already closing, and probably in a few hours it would be completely gone. You wondered if people thought that the same also happened to everything he experienced. If the public accounts about the eidetic memory were true, then he remembered everything, and even as his brain was probably better at processing things and arriving at the place where he could look at experiences logically, that didn’t mean the experience wasn’t intense.
You pulled yourself back to reality, reeling in the doctor and the researcher in your head and looking up at him again. He was staring at you — as much as he could, with his head halfway turned towards the road, but nothing about the way he was driving indicated that he wasn’t focusing on that, too.
“Is everything alright?” you said.
He breathed out, scrambling for words again as he returned his complete attention to the road.
“No, yes, it is, I mean…” he breathed back in, gathering his composure. “I am not used to anyone… getting that. Or even asking that.”
Something twisted in your chest, and had he not been driving, you would’ve wanted to take both his hands into yours. It hadn’t taken you more than a few texts with him to realize that this was a thoughtful man with a big heart and so much to give, and now, it didn’t surprise you that he wasn’t used to people understanding what it was like to be him.
“I don’t think anyone can ever understand another’s experience, not really,” you said. “And I wouldn’t dream of thinking that I know what it’s like to be you, what it was like to go through everything you have gone through. But I know how it is to have to be the one who has everything under control in the operating room. I know how it feels to feel like your job takes over all other aspects of your life. How it is to wonder if you’ll be lonely for the rest of your life and… And thinking that the best chance of finding something great you had had in a long time had just slipped through your fingers.”
You could feel the heat on your cheeks as you said the last words. They had halfway escaped your lips, brought forth by the way he’d accidentally served you his heart on a platter. Even as you hadn’t been fighting gods-knew-what in Antarctica, it had still been quite an emotionally intense night, and that was obviously bringing everything out in the open. You lowered your gaze to your hands in your lap, not really daring to look at him. You might’ve just made everything beyond awkward.
But when Steve spoke, it didn’t feel like that. His voice was genuinely warm, so warm it made the atmosphere change too. As if some sort of miniature sun had suddenly been trapped in the car and its rays were now transforming whatever floated in the air into something you could just let be there, existing in between the two of you.
Forming a bond of trust.
“Thank you,” he said. “For trying to understand. And for telling me all that.”
“I don’t think that’s something you should need to thank me for,” you murmured back. “But I do want to hear, if you want to talk about it. And I want to hear as someone who wants to get to know you, not as someone who is a medical professional.”
The cautious smile on his face had spread a little, and upon your disclaimer, it briefly lit up his whole face. Then, his expression returned to a more somber state, but it wasn’t quite heavy anymore. Just serious, as he looked back to what had once been, and a tiny hint of nostalgia had crept into his voice.
“I think it took me a couple of years to get back out here not because of any burning love for Peggy but because I needed to let go of the life I would’ve had, could’ve had, back in the forties. So that everything wouldn’t be tainted by comparison, not to something that was necessarily better but to something that was familiar. I’d built all these hopes about my life, if I got healthy, if I got into the army, if I met someone with whom we’d hit off… Realistically, it wouldn’t necessarily have been Peggy. It might’ve been, but it might not have worked out at all with her if things had ever progressed beyond some chemistry and one kiss in the middle of a war zone. But I had these images in my head about a happy ending and everything it meant in that era, and I think that if I’d tried to find one here earlier, before I went through all the therapy, I would’ve not been able to appreciate the good things — not because they wouldn’t have been as good or better than what I’d thought I’d have but simply because it wouldn’t have been the exact image I had conjured in my mind. And now, when I finally felt like I was ready to try to find that happy ending again, I was pretty scared that something great was going to slip through my fingers again, as you put it,” he said, and smiled a little sheepishly as he stopped. “I don’t know if that makes any sense. But I don’t want a rain check, if you don’t, despite everything.”
You smiled, not just at his honesty but the admission in between the lines, that he truly thought this might become that happy ending and that it had already felt like something great to him. It wasn’t really a surprise, after what he’d said about being marriage-minded when it came to dating — realistically, things wouldn’t have progressed this far if he hadn’t been thinking that — but it was still different to hear it like this, sitting right next to him and feeling the words, rather than as an explanation of his general mindset over messages.
“I think it makes a lot of sense. And I appreciate your honesty, and the fact that you worked on yourself and made sure you are doing things for the right reasons,” you said. “And for what it’s worth…”
You smiled to yourself, peeling open the cardboard container that held your food and extending it to him.
“…I don’t see a reason why this night can’t be absolutely great despite everything. Want some fish and chips?”
He chuckled, reaching over to grab a fry. As he did, he brushed his little finger briefly over the knuckles of your hand holding the box, sending a tingling feeling of electricity up your arm, and you knew that he heard what you’d said between the lines, too.
I don’t see a reason why this can’t be our happy ending.
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skywalker1dream · 6 months ago
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part of the stuck with the stranger series
Title:Unexpected Connections
part one | part three
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note: hello, how are you guys hope you are having a good day or night, my day is fantastic so far I driking my second cup of coffee exams are coming and writing those fics kind of helping me to relive my stress (even tho I have so little time for myself) so this is part 2 of stuck with the stranger and I changed many things cause I didn't liked my previous writing and add plot twist too ( I don't know if it is a good plot twist tho my friend saw it coming mile away, but maybe its because she knows me better then I know myself, okay I won't bore you even more and I hope you like it <3
Summary: Carlos Sainz and the reader's romance takes an unexpected turn when it's revealed she's the little sister of Carlos's best friend, Lando Norris. As secrets unravel, they must navigate the complexities of their relationship. Will love conquer all, or will fate intervene?
warnings: none, I guess?
The first date with Carlos was like stepping into a fairy tale. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the intimate restaurant as you sat across from him, lost in conversation that flowed effortlessly between you.
"So, tell me something about yourself that I wouldn't learn from twitter," Carlos said, leaning forward with genuine interest.
You chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his easy charm. "Well, I have a secret talent for making the world's best pancakes," you confessed with a grin.
Carlos's eyes lit up with amusement. "Really? I'll have to put your skills to the test sometime. My pancake game could use some serious improvement."
The laughter that followed was infectious, filling the air with a sense of warmth and comfort. As the evening progressed, you found yourselves diving deeper into conversation, exploring topics ranging from your favorite childhood memories to your wildest dreams for the future.
Hours passed in the blink of an eye, and before you knew it, the restaurant was closing around you. Reluctantly, you and Carlos said your goodbyes, promising to meet again soon.
........
On your second date, Carlos surprised you by taking you to a local amusement park. The sound of laughter filled the air as you rode roller coasters and indulged in cotton candy.
"This is amazing," you exclaimed, your heart racing with excitement as you clutched Carlos's hand tightly on the Ferris wheel.
"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Carlos replied, a smile playing on his lips as he looked at you fondly. "I've been wanting to take you here since our first date."
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, you leaned against Carlos's shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. In that moment, surrounded by the bright lights and joyful laughter of the amusement park, you knew that this was where you were meant to be.
The evening ended with a cozy dinner at a nearby cafe, where you and Carlos shared stories and laughed until your sides hurt. It was a night you would never forget, a perfect blend of excitement and intimacy that left you craving more.
.....
dates followed, each one more memorable than the last. From picnics in the park to late-night stargazing sessions, you and Carlos reveled in each other's company, savoring every moment you spent together.
One evening, Carlos surprised you by taking you to a quaint bookstore nestled in the heart of the city. You spent hours browsing the shelves, exchanging book recommendations and sharing snippets of your favorite passages. It was a simple yet meaningful date, one that allowed you to connect on a deeper level.
As you walked hand in hand through the quiet streets, the night air filled with the soft glow of streetlights, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the man beside you. In Carlos, you had found not only a romantic partner but also a kindred spirit, someone who understood you in a way that no one else ever had.
.....
But amidst the blissful haze of new love, there was a looming complication, one that neither of you had anticipated. It all came to a head one week later, on a race weekend, when Lando brought you to the paddock, and Carlos's world collided with yours in an unexpected twist of fate.
As you walked through the bustling paddock beside Lando, Carlos's familiar figure came into view, his brown eyes widening in shock as he caught sight of you.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone laced with confusion as he approached.
Before you could respond, Lando stepped forward, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Carlos, meet my little sister," he said, gesturing towards you. "She wanted to see what all the fuss was about."
Carlos froze, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief in the span of a heartbeat. His gaze darted between you and Lando, realization dawning on him like a bolt of lightning.
"Your sister?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "But... but I had no idea... that you....."
You watched as the shock registered on Carlos's face, his features contorting with a mix of disbelief and dawning realization. It was as if the ground had shifted beneath his feet, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
In that moment, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again. The revelation had shaken Carlos to his core, casting a shadow over the fragile bond you had built together. And as you stood there, caught between past and present, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held in store for you and Carlos.
.....
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triflesandparsnips · 1 year ago
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Lot of takes going around the internets about certain "deaths" in the ofmd season finale, so, uh-- guess it's time for me to try and lose some followers on tumblr dot com with
Some Thoughts on Why I Am Not Particularly Bothered or Concerned about Izzy's Apparent "Death"
Laying the groundwork first...
1. Narratively speaking, Izzy's been a dead man walking since the start of the season. Babe shot himself and got a rebirth-- but he still definitely intended to die. Every minute he was still around was borrowed time.
Did he have to die? Maybe not. I know I could've written a version of the show where he didn't. But then that would be my show-- not theirs. I can't know exactly what themes, bugbears, bête noires, catharsis, or artistic Vibes are driving that writers' room, and until the credits run on the finale of the third season, none of the rest of us can either.
2. Izzy spent the season being in a liminal state-- and there's nothing in the story saying that he can't continue doing that. Izzy spent the season having one foot in one space, one hoof in the other, and himself halfway through the door, a chimera of mirrored things right up to his "death": pirate and ship, hard and soft, old ways and new, etc etc. But "the gravy basket" is a weird little liminal space between life and death, a place that both Ed and Buttons have found (and returned from) before. We don't know where Izzy "is" right now-- he could be there.
(tbh, I wonder how much poor feeling we'd be having about all this if we'd gotten a final tag of a blue-washed Izzy staring down at a bowl of soup while helplessly saying "but this isn't gravy, what the fu--")
3. I think there is an unfortunate belief that "it's not real unless you see the body" is a universal -- or perhaps inarguable -- "fact" of storytelling. But it's not. It's just a bit of narrative shorthand that got popular, and now we're too ready to fall into the trap of believing the inverse is true too-- that if there is a body, then there must therefore have been a "real" death.
This season has spent quite a lot of narrative time and effort telling us that its story is using a different model, with different shorthands; specifically, that magic is real, that there is at least some kind of existence after death, and that the dead can be resurrected.
And that brings me to the meat of why I'm not particularly bothered or concerned about what, at this stage of the story, could still very well be just a minor setback--
4. This whole show, and particularly this season, is a fairy tale. It's a story that works with fairy tale logic and tropes, and it's in conversation with other fairy tales too, ones that the OFMD audience is likely to know well enough to spot their narrative beats in action. So "Pinocchio" gets mentioned a lot? Cool-- the audience applies what is commonly known of that story to this one ("a real boy", the mirror-opposite being a puppet with no nose, etc), and finds some Cool Shit. Then they're primed to keep looking for fairy tales, even unnamed ones, in case there's another little nugget of reward-dopamine for finding a connection.
So the fact that we saw a mermaid? Suddenly, I personally am noticing "Little Mermaid" motifs all over the place. That Ed was in a "sleep like death" -- after fucking around with a spinning wheel -- until his prince came to wake him? Well fuck, man, that's Blackbeard playing "Sleeping Beauty" for us all.
And bringing it all back to a "dead" Izzy Hands... when I add up a "dead" body surrounded by a bunch of laborers mourning the person who nominally kept their living space nice AND who was wanted dead by an authority figure for the crime of being the "better" version of what that figure wanted to be...
...well fuck, idk about the rest of you, but to me that all adds up to Izzy's story being Snow fucking White. Waiting for someone to come pull the bullet poisoned apple from his body so he can live again.
5. This is a second season. Of three. And Izzy Hands is the writer's favorite chewtoy, so there is lots of time, space, and incentive to bring him back. If there's a third season, we have a pile of ways he could be brought back over the course of hours of literal viewing time and possibly months of in-narrative time. That's ages.
And the solutions don't have to be difficult! For instance, we still have canonical hallucinations from Stede-- that's one route. Or fuck it, we could have Izzy's (very solid-looking) ghost be the embodiment of their being haunted by the Sea, that would work too.
And even barring all that-- his grave is right there with our heroes. The ship is out there hunting down his murderer. Even if you're happy he's dead... bad news, friend. He's all over the third season landscape. (uh oh, it's GNU Izzy Hands)
But those are just a few options that leave his body rotting but his character still alive. I happen to think we could all dream a little bigger, darlings. For instance:
A. You cannot tell me that these writers, on this show, with these actors, would not absolutely go all in on a zombie-esque hand thrusting out of the dirt mere hours after burial. Look me in the eyes and tell me Con O'Neill wouldn't pull off an entire digging-out scene only to end with himself panting beside the hole, looking around, hearing Ed and Stede being weird in their haunted hut, and wearily say, "Are you fucking kidding me."
B. Don't like zombies? Want to stay closer to the Snow White vibe AND introduce a love interest for him? One hyphenated word: body-snatcher. Gotta dig those bodies up fresh for the Definitely Historically Accurate anatomists of the time! But oh, says this New Guy, this corpse is-- wow, it's weird that they buried him with a rose and really amazing makeup and a truly extraordinary number of whittled whales, plus what's with that horsey leg grave marker, this guy must've been fucking fascinating, man, I wish I could've met him-- --at which point Izzy's hand shoots out and chokes the guy half to death and the lads come tumbling out of the house and ta da, mission accomplished, Izzy resurrected in 5 minutes or less with his horsey leg conveniently beside him and an entire season for himself and everyone else to Deal With It, amazing, fantastic, no notes from me.
C. Come to think of it, there is genuinely a non-zero chance that the crew just. Fucked up the burial. I mean... even though I was just arguing why we shouldn't see it as Law, we didn't actually see the body. We saw a grave. What did they bury him in? Was it a box? Was it some canvas? Did they definitely pick up the right one when it was time to bury him? Or did they maybe carefully make him an ahistorical safety coffin just in case a cat demon came to bother him and his corpse wanted to make a fuss about it, y'know, very common, could happen to anyone, and Frenchie just so happens to have Blackbeard's old collar bell right here--
6. Here's the bottom line, imo: The only thing that would keep Izzy really actually dead and completely removed from the story is a lack of narrative time and space-- and we have plenty of both. Stories are like Lego. If you've got enough time and you're willing to play with pieces from a whole lotta different sets, it's not hard to put the same elements together in different ways to get new, exciting configurations. It's why I'm actually rubbish at predicting exact details of stuff-- there are a lot of ways something could go, there are infinite doors out of problems the narrative seems to throw at us, and no two people will come up with the same thing because we're all different.
That, to me, is one of the big ways I personally enjoy and engage with stories. And it's why I genuinely can't be fussed about Izzy's death, not when we're only two-thirds through the story as a whole; observing someone setup and then try and execute a complicated narrative trick is my jam.
But my way of engaging with all this is by no means the best or only way. How we all interact with art, and what speaks to us, is extremely personal. If how this season and Izzy's death went just didn't work for you, that's okay. I'm sorry it wasn't the story you wanted it to be. That blows.
I just know I can't say yet that it didn't work for me. I won't know until I can take in the entire picture, just as I can't judge a finished Lego set by the one piece I step on midway through construction. I can see different ways Izzy's death/rebirth could absolutely work, but will the writer manage it? I dunno.
But I'm willing to wait and see if the stupid puppet can pull it off.
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fatehbaz · 2 years ago
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In one of the oldest poems in English literature, [...] The Seafarer not only provides us with one of our first ornithological references in the English language, but also [...] written description of birds evoking place, being associated with a distinct landscape. This poem is not alone, however, in suggesting to us how birds could inspire a feeling for place more than 1,000 years ago. [...] Hidden in the names of towns and villages are the ghostly traces of birds conjuring powerful identities for people in the landscapes and settlements of early medieval England. [...]
Among this rich repository of names [in Britain], birds rank in their many hundreds as vitalising elements and markers of medieval places – more than any other class of wild animal [...]. Among the cranes and crows, eagles and pigeons and geese (to mention some of the more commonly named birds), there are also less expected species. Who would imagine the mulch-and-mud snipe secretly probing the worm house as place markers in Snitterfield (Warwickshire), or fairy-flitting titmice roving through trees as the spirits of Masongill (Yorkshire), or yellowhammers like fireside embers in the winter hedgerows in Amberley (Sussex)? [...] What was it about birds that so caught people’s place-imaginations?
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One avian order that demonstrates birds’ place-shaping potential especially well is the owls. [...] [T]he tiny village of Ulcombe [is] nestled in a gentle fold of the North Downs. Its name is listed in the Domesday Book (1086 CE), and it means ‘the owl’s valley’. [...] [O]ur word for this order of birds descends from one of just two Old English words for all owls: ule, pronounced ‘oooo-l’ (the other is uf, of which there are very few records.) Ule is a very ancient [...] utterance. [...] The onomatopoeic potency of ule implies not only how owls themselves materialised and existed as sound [...], but that this also affected how people experienced the places in which they heard these sounds. On some level, those places named after owls (Ulgham, Outchester, Oldberrow, Ullenhall, Ullenwood) were identified as soundscapes as much as landscapes [...].
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Other ‘sound birds’ appearing in place names besides owls, however, suggest [...] bioacoustics as [...] distinguishing properties of a place’s atmosphere. Take bitterns, for instance, those specialists of reed-bed living, who have perfected invisibility [...]. We know bitterns best by the eerie, sonorous booming of male bitterns that ‘bombleth in the myre’, as Geoffrey Chaucer describes it in ‘The Wife of Bath’s Tale’. In names like Purleigh (pūr + lēah = ‘bittern clearing’), then, we are confronted again by places defined according to a particular, evocative sound. Even in the 18th century, when the draining of much of the old Fens surrounding the Ouse Washes was already well underway, Daniel Defoe is drawn to ‘the uncouth Music of the Bittern … so loud that it is heard two or three Miles Distance’ [...].
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Like the tawny owl, of course, [the cuckoo] has a very distinctive song. Its famous call (immortalised in the medieval song ‘Sumer Is Icumen In’) is equally matched by the bird’s reputation as a herald of summer. Species such as cuckoos and swallows are only present for part of the year in Britain, meaning they were mostly absent from those places that came to bear their names. How was it, then, that they still came to imbue locations such as Swallowcliffe or Yaxley (the Old English for cuckoo is geac, pronounced ‘yay-ack’) with such defining and enduring resonance? These summer birds bring a place to life, as it were. [...] Cuckoos, like so many British birds that are threatened or extinct, would have been much more abundant in the Middle Ages. Yaxley, on the edge of surviving cuckoo strongholds in the former Fens, would have thronged to their calls. Now these places, and many like them where the birds of their names are absent, are solemnly displaced, the names creaking in the wind like dilapidated pub signs [...]. We can sense that displacement in the sprawl of modern suburban environments too, which [...] assign bird nomenclatures to roads and residential spaces (Sandpiper Drive, Nightingale Way, Lark Rise, Goldcrest Mews…) where the species named are nowhere to be seen [...].
[B]ird place names [...] alert us [...] [to] the rich forms and possibilities of ecological dwelling, which shaped how people perceived and responded to the local worlds around them. [...] We need these spirits of place.
---
All text above by: Michael J. Warren. “Home and the birdsong.” Aeon. 12 December 2022. Essay edited by Sam Haselby. [In this post, bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.] Essay published by Aeon at: [aeon.co/essays/british-place-names-resonate-with-the-song-of-missing-birds]
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archiveikemen · 1 year ago
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'Absolutely Obedient Maid' Collection Event
Jude Jazza
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This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.
Warnings and FAQ
special thanks to @otomefiend for providing the story~ ♡
Jude: Some guy you don't even know demanded you to be his maid, and you were about to respond with “yes, understood”.
Jude: … Are you into that kind of stuff? I’m repulsed.
Kate: That’s not true…!
And why were Jude and I bickering again?
It started when a woman happened to bump into me while I was accompanying Jude as a fairy tale writer. She looked like a maid, and accidentally dropped the laundry she was carrying…
The man next to her who appeared to be her master was about to whip her, when I reflexively jumped in to shield her from him. The “deal” I made with the master seemed to have upset Jude.
Kate: I just thought that if I did the laundry, that maid wouldn't have to get hurt.
Jude: You have a strong sense of justice. I’m impressed (sarcastic).
Jude: There was no guarantee that laundry would be the only thing you'd be doing.
Kate: We can’t make sure of that anymore, though…
Before I could even nod, the master who said to me “if you shield her, you’ll be a maid and wash the dirty laundry” turned pale and ran away the moment he saw Jude.
Kate: It’s not always you see people turn pale at the mere sight of someone’s face. … Until that face was yours.
Jude: But thanks to that bastard, you don’t have to become a maid anymore, isn’t it?
Kate: What?
Jude: Are you going to leave your debt unpaid?
Kate: …!?
My body instantly grew tense like a reflexive reaction.
I was way too familiar with the weight of the words “indebted to Jude”.
Kate: … I- I’ll treat you to lunch as a thank you.
Jude: I don't want that.
Jude rejected my offer and stared down at me with predatory eyes.
Jude: A debt, huh… ah, that’s right.
His thin lips lifted into a sinister smile.
Jude: How about becoming my personal maid as a way to repay your debt? If you can do that for some stranger, you can do the same for me, yes?
Jude: I’ll show you just what it means to be in a contract of absolute obedience.
Jude: What? I can’t hear you. Say it again.
Kate: … Ggh.
Jude: If you don’t say it louder, I’ll stuff a cloth in that useless mouth of yours. You better do your best.
I was with Jude in one of his trading company’s warehouses, where I trembled with fury at his degrading comments.
Kate: … I will obey your every word, Master.
Jude: Sit.
Kate: … Huh?
Jude: Didn’t you just say you’ll obey me? Sit.
Sitting on a crate, Jude hurled heartless and shameful commands at me, and I gritted my teeth while obeying every one of them.
A shiver ran through my skin as I sat on the chilly warehouse floor.
Kate: … Rather than a maid, I feel like a dog.
Jude: You’ll obey my every command, so that makes you no different from a dog.
Jude stood and carelessly stepped on the hem of my long skirt with his fancy black shoes.
(I won’t be able to stand up quickly like this—)
Jude: Shall I rip these clothes off, put a collar on you, and take you on a walk?
Kate: A- Absolutely not…
Jude: Can a dog talk back to its master?
Jude: If you’re not willing to obey me, then you don't need this mouth.
He reached out to cover my mouth with his large hand, and I immediately apologised.
Kate: I- I understand. I was too thoughtless, I’ll reflect deeply on my actions…!
Jude: Oh, really? I’ll forgive you if you get on all fours and bark for me.
Kate: … gah 😖.
My face turned red in embarrassment from that humiliating command.
(...... I’ll even toss my pride into the sewers if it means I can finally put an end to this.)
I unwillingly got on all fours as ordered while glaring at Jude.
Kate: … ugh… woof.
Jude: Hah, you look like you want to chew your master’s head off.
Jude: … I like that defiant look in your eyes.
Kate: Wha…
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Jude: I didn't plan to play around with you but…
Jude: I’m interested in hearing how you scream and cry.
Kate: …!?
He grabbed my arm and before I could process what was happening, he roughly pulled me up and pushed me against a wall.
Both my hands were pinned together against the wall, causing me to be unable to resist.
Kate: L- Let go… — ah!
My body jolted as he pushed his leg in between my legs.
(Are you kidding me right now, no way, is he serious?)
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Jude: …
Jude stared coldly down at me with an unreadable expression.
Kate: N… No… ah
I struggled and tried to escape, and a sweet numbing sensation ran through my body when Jude’s knee rubbed against the spot between my legs it was touching.
My head turned into a mess, filled with feelings of fear, frustration, and shame.
Jude: … What are you so worked up for? I barely moved.
Kate: Move… please move your leg away…
Jude: Getting yourself off using your master’s body? You fail as a maid.
Kate: That’s not…!
Jude: How about you deal with this by yourself as punishment?
(... You’re the worst!)
His whispering in my ear sent shivers through my spine, my legs felt like they were about to give way.
Jude: If you saw another woman being treated the same way you are right now, what would you do?
Kate: …!? Of course I’d call for help…
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Jude: Tch… you’re a real idiot.
His cold gaze didn’t look like he was mocking me, but rather he looked angry.
Jude: You’re supposed to answer “I’ll ignore it”. You didn't learn your lesson at all.
Kate: Wah—!?
He pressed his leg harder against me.
The sensation it made between my legs caused a noise to escape my mouth involuntarily.
(I- I can't believe I just made that noise…)
Jude: How do you expect to “help” someone with that weak little body of yours?
Jude let go and I fell to the ground, turning red in humiliation.
Jude: If you want to keep hanging around me, then drop all that sort of lip service and virtuous thinking.
Kate: …!
Jude: If you can’t do that, then just make up some bullshit excuse for the mission and go back to sleeping curled up in the castle, Princess.
I stabilised my ragged breathing and bit my lip.
(... Jude is warning me.)
(I can’t do that… I can’t abandon my ideals and my mission.)
(Also… why does he have to resort to such dehumanising methods to give me a reality check?)
(I… I want to understand him.)
I took a deep breath to pull myself together and faced Jude directly.
Kate: I choose neither option.
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Jude: … Looks like I should've shut your mouth after all.
Jude muttered those words of displeasure and left the warehouse.
And I dragged my aching knees and body after him—.
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spacebarbarianweird · 11 months ago
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Temperance
Synopsis: Tiriel has body image issues after giving birth, and Astarion is just too eager on having sex with his beautiful wife once again.
Thanks @tragedybunny for beta-reading!
Tags: smut, vaginal sex, praise kink, post-partum body image
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Headcanons
Astarion puts away the book and looks in the cradle. His baby girl is sound asleep, her pointy ears twitching like the ones of a kitten.
He still can’t believe it’s all real, though, he’s had  three months to accept it. A tiny newborn who he still hopes won’t be a dhampir requires all the time he and Tiriel have.
Astarion doesn’t mind. If anything, he enjoys being a father.
He touches Alethaine’s digits. One day, she will grow up and become a beautiful Elven woman. What voice will she have? What face features? Will she look more like him or more like her mother? Or maybe he will see some unfamiliar features in her - Tiriel’s Elven ancestors or his own?
The vampire hears soft steps from the bathroom - Tiriel finished washing herself. Astarion would have loved to join, but someone has had to keep an eye on the baby.
He leaves the nursery and leaves the door half open.
“Our little princess can fall asleep only if I read her Elven fairy tales. She definitely has standards!”
Tiriel doesn’t respond. She is naked, drops of water still on her body.
And the Half-Elven warrior is absolutely stunning.
Her breasts got bigger during pregnancy, and Astarion hopes they will stay like that even when she stops breastfeeding. Freckles dance all over her skin, a gift from her ancestors, the human clans of the Sunset Mountains.
Her stomach is no longer flat, and he feels an unstoppable desire to touch those soft folds of skin. There are stretch marks in the lower part and on her thighs, long white lines resembling lighting.
Astarion feels like his trousers tighten between his legs.
Well, one year of celibacy is a form of torture.
“Tell me the truth. Do I look disgusting?” Tiriel asks. That’s when he realizes she looks miserable. Many years ago, at the beginning of their relationship, she had this same facial expression when people pointed at her mixed ancestry. Both elves and humans.
“What are you talking about?”
“I look in the mirror and don’t recognize myself. While I was pregnant, it was one thing, but now... Fuck. It’s just as if my body is all distorted.”
“Your body is a fucking miracle that gave me my precious treasure of a child. Don’t you dare speak ill of it.”
“Just look at me!”
“I am looking at you.”
Drops of milk drip from her swollen nipples.
The tightness in his pants becomes unbearable.
Gods, if he doesn’t put his cock inside Tiriel, he will cum in his pants
Astarion pushes Tiriel to the bed, and, before she manages to object, he gets rid of his shirt and unlaces the front of his trousers.
He hovers above his wife and presses his lips against hers, kissing  her desperately, hungrily. Tiriel grabs his shoulders, pulling him closer to her - she is strong, his fierce wife.
He pulls away a bit and there is a thin strand of saliva connecting them. Astarion recognizes the fire in Tiriel’s eyes -  all too familiar. Desire. Pure and honest, the desire of a woman who was never ashamed of her nature.
Astarion goes down to her breasts. He sucks her left nipple, tasting the essence with his tongue. Then, the other. Tiriel moans and grabs his hair which makes him groan.
He keeps tracing his kisses -her  stomach feels so warm and so soft, like a pillow. So much better than it used to be.
Astarion gets on his knees and grabs Tiriel’s hips to put her bottom on his lap. Now when her legs are spread he can see the vulva in all its glorious details.
“Did it change?” Tiriel asks.
He touches her clit making Tiriel whimper. Her whole body, busy with growing a child inside, was missing Astarion.
“It did. A bit” he says, studying her womanhood.
“I knew it” Tiriel sounds disappointed.
Astarion sticks his finger inside, feeling the familiar wetness.
“Your pussy is a fucking temple which is fit for both lovemaking and birthing children. Don’t desecrate it with your curses.”
He finally manages to get rid of his trousers and with no further hesitation sticks his cock inside.
“F-fuck” he groans feeling the walls tightening around him.
Tiriel pulls him to her and kisses him. Her legs wrap around his torso pressing his lower part to her.
“Does it feel the same?” she asks, her eyes half-lidded,
“It feels better. Much… better…”
He thrusts harder and harder, making Tiriel whimper helplessly. Her nipples drool with milk and her clean body is sticky with sweat.
Tiriel presses him to herself, piercing his back with her nails. Her breath is as hot as the campfire, and her kisses make him insane.
Astarion wishes to prolong this pleasure but his body doesn’t obey. He cums with a low groan, feeling his release coating his cock.
Tiriel grabs a handful of his hair and makes him kiss her.
Afterwards, he lies beside her, wrapping his hands around her chest.
“You know” she pants. “If you were drunk on blood right now, I would already be pregnant. My cycle has been restored recently.”
“Hm, give me time to go to the woods. I will return and fuck another child into you.”
She laughs. “No, let’s wait another twenty years. Once Alethaine is an adult, you can fuck her brother inside me.”
“A sister. Another girl,” he corrects.
“I thought the second baby must be a boy?”
“Nah, I want to have daughters. Sons are boring.”
“I think most of the men in this world would disagree.”
“Most of the men are morons,” he kisses the crown of her head.
Suddenly Tiriel elbows up and he realizes she sits on him, her breasts swaying in anticipation.
“What are you doing, love?”
“I haven’t had sex for a year, too, and meanwhile you could, at least, pleasure yourself with your hand, I definitely didn’t have the time of my life.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Did you think one round would satisfy me?”
Astarion feels his erection growing again, and he places his hands on Tiriel’s wide hips.
“I hoped it wouldn’t.”
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princesssarisa · 11 months ago
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One of the most fascinating pieces of movie analysis I've ever read is J.B. Kaufman's thesis of the "two different Snow Whites" in Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.
He writes about this in both of his two books on the making of the movie, The Fairest One of All and its companion piece Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs: The Art and Creation. His argument is that Snow White's two leading animators, Hamilton Luske and Grim Natwick, each gave Snow White a slightly different personality when they drew her. A close look at the movie, and knowledge of who animated which moments, reveals subtle differences in Snow White's expressions and body language. Luske, her head animator who handled the majority of her scenes, portrayed her as a more purely innocent, childlike character, while Natwick, the creator of Betty Boop, gave her a little more maturity, sophistication, and sauciness.
You can see the difference, for example, when comparing her girlish interactions with the animals in "With a Smile and a Song" and "Whistle While You Work" (animated by Luske) to her flirtatious smiling at the Prince from the balcony, or her "mothering" of the dwarfs as she examines their dirty hands (animated by Natwick). Or her responses to Grumpy in the scene before the Washing Song: as she asks "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" she looks at him with a devilish grin (Natwick), but then when he sticks out his tongue at her, she reacts with the most wide-eyed, girlish shock (Luske).
Now, I don't know if these two men really held different views of Snow White's character, or if it just worked out that Luske drew Snow White's more innocent scenes while Natwick was assigned her more grown-up moments. But either way, Kaufman argues that this "tension," the movie's constant push-and-pull between "Snow White as a wide-eyed innocent girl" and "Snow White as a self-assured young woman," makes her an especially interesting Disney Princess. I tend to agree, especially because, miraculously, there's no sense of inconsistency in her character. She comes across as a young girl on the verge of womanhood, who naturally can still be naïve and childlike in some ways, but more grown-up and clever in others.
This thesis makes me wonder if certain "tensions" in other movies are the result of different viewpoints within the creative team.
For example, in Beauty and the Beast.
Linda Woolverton has often talked about her feminist goals in writing Belle's character, which sometimes clashed with her collaborators' visions of Belle as a more traditional fairy tale heroine. It just might have been those clashing viewpoints that created the dichotomy in Belle that I personally think makes her interesting. On the one hand, she's a strong-willed misfit rebel, partly inspired by Jo March in Little Women and by Katharine Hepburn's screwball comedy heroines, who longs for adventure, isn't looking for romance until she unexpectedly finds it, stands up to men (and beasts) who abuse their power, and refuses to let anyone dominate her. On the other hand, she's a sensitive dreamer with delicate beauty and balletic grace, who wears pretty, ladylike dresses, adores fairy tales and love stories, and is sweet, nurturing, and almost motherly to her friends and loved ones. Yet somehow these two sides of her character co-exist with no sense of inconsistency between them.
There's also the dichotomy between the two different views of the Beast that the movie seems to present at once. On the one hand, there's the Beast as an unseemly brute, who's beastly form is both a just punishment for his flawed character and an outward symbol of it, and who needs to be "tamed" into proper "human" behavior, culminating in his physically turning human again. On the other hand, there's the Beast as a suffering, self-loathing outcast, unfairly hated, feared, and dehumanized, whose plight under the spell can easily be read as an AIDS allegory, and who needs to be accepted and loved as he is. I suspect that this also stems from different goals and viewpoints in the creative team. (For example, Howard Ashman's clash with the directors over whether the Prince should be a child or a man in the prologue – the former would have made him more "tragic" but the latter makes his punishment more "fair.")
I'd like to read an analysis of these "tensions" similar to Kaufman's analysis of the "two different Snow Whites."
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what-have-i-unleashed · 1 month ago
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when the fog thickens, blurring one's sight
now back to our irregularly scheduled mermaid watching...
(finally the polls are relevant yippee. 2nd person pov just fits the vibes so i'm using it.)
(cw: toxic relationship, obsession, violence, implied substance abuse)
She groped in amongst the ugly nettles, which burnt great blisters on her hands and arms, but she determined to bear it gladly if she could only release her dear brothers. So she bruised the nettles with her bare feet and spun the flax. - Hans Christian Anderson, "The Wild Swans"
you don't dream much, but when you do, it's mostly about killer now.
this time, it's a memory-dream, where both of you are walking along the seaside of an abandoned human town. you remember this - this was when there were only you and him and nightmare. there was no castle yet, no cross, no horror. just you and killer for most of the time. you have no idea why you're dreaming this, but you follow it - you follow killer down the road. you look to the horizon where the sky and sea meets. the orange sunset casts a luminous sheen on the surface of the sea, reflecting light like a mirror.
"pretty, isn't it?" killer says next to you. you don't say anything, your neck wrapped in bandages with the wounds that killer has inflicted on you. the wounds that now leave you without a voice to speak.
"you know, the surface has many things to offer," killer stops to lean on the guardrails, his face serene in a way you've never seen before. "it never ceases to amaze me how many times i see the sun. maybe this is what life is about."
you watch him, only now savoring this rare moment where he appears calm and content. where he exists only for himself, his soul unable to be contained in its usual target-shaped form. where you exist as an afterthought to him, an outsider to his story, his self-realization.
you eventually turn away from him, from the sunlight that falls onto his tear-stained face. killer, as always, notices (but he never noticed your feelings, how funny).
"what are you, a vampire?" killer laughs with such mirth. "come on, taste the sun a little. being in the shadows forever is bad for your bones, haven't you heard?"
you remember being defensive about it. you remember swatting your hands at him, unamused by his cavalier attitude. you remember wanting to kill him, dragging him to the ocean and making him drown in his hubris. you remember the fight you have on the beach, making waves in the water and blasting holes in the sand.
you remember crashing on the ground with him next to you, both of you now watching the moon rising from the light of the sun. you remember his laugh as he declares himself the winner. you remember your and his blood mixing with each other and seeping into the sand there.
(you wonder what happened to that little spot now. maybe it has been washed away by the sea. you hope something will sprout from it, a piece of evidence of your existence there. but it's just a fairy tale dream.)
"ha... that's what i like about you, dusty," killer smiles at the sky, despite his wrist broken. "you always give it your all. you're as crazy as i am."
you can't do nothing but try to regain your breath. your magic still runs wild in your bones, still craving for another release, another carnage. but you're not sure your broken legs will allow for that.
"welp, at least the sky's pretty," killer cheers with that fake enthusiasm of his that you're used to now. you remember staying there until nightmare appears to pick both of you up from the ground. so it's just you and killer right now, together, but none of you would look at each other.
you close your eyes, listening to the sounds of waves crashing into the shore. you hear a shuffle next to you, and you open one eye to see killer kneeling on your side, his head hovering on top of yours.
you don't remember this.
"you're kinda cute, you know?" killer says as he slowly leans in. you don't move. you don't dare breathe. you grab at his jacket, unsure if you want to stop or encourage him.
you don't remember this.
"what's the matter?" killer asks, but his voice sounds far away. like a thousand ocean waves crashing upon the shore that is you. "did i read the signs wrong? you like me, don't you?"
i don't remember this, you mouth. not to him. you're not him. get out.
"what are you-"
get out. get out. get out. get out. get out. get out. get out. get out. get out. get out. get out. get out.get out. get out. get out. get out. get out. get out.get out. get out. get out. get out. get out. get out.
GET OUT!
the scene pauses. the waves are frozen in time as you try to control your hyperventilation. you don't let go of killer, his face also forever frozen in that confused expression of his.
"again, dust?" nightmare's disapproving voice echoes in the vast space with no clear source. "must you decline every morsel of happiness i grant you?"
yes you must. because you can't let your memories - memories of him - be tainted with falsities. you cannot let your broken soul be haphazardly glued back with the sedative promise of peaceful apathy.
you shake, your hands letting go of your beloved as he crumbles into sand that flows into crevices of your bones. the scene turns gray, lifeless, colorless just like how your soul feels - hollowed and carved out.
"you're always determined in the worst ways," nightmare clicks his tongue. "just like the traitor if i'm to be honest. maybe you truly deserve each other."
thankfully, nightmare must feel somewhat merciful because you don't immediately wake up after that. you are left alone in the gray void, the dreamless land that nightmare often puts you in as his occasional rewards for good work. you grip your head and put it between your knees. and you breathe. in and out. trying to regain your thoughts. your composure. you don't want to wake up thrashing and crying again. maybe you should look into those narcolepsy meds again. anything to delay these inevitable dreams that nightmare no doubt will put you through again.
you can survive it. you can survive the temptation. you must.
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