#once in a while i read one of the poems (usually when it's my turn to admin the poetry blog lol) but i can't read them all i'm sorry :/ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

changbunnies · 2 months ago

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Moonstruck (18+)

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Ghost Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: very loosely inspired by corpse bride, horror in a goofy + silly + fluffy sort of way, ghost / human relationship, love at first sight vibes, smut, takes place vaguely during a time where ppl still use landlines more predominantly than cellphones

♡ Word Count: 6.5k

♡ Summary: Changbin is a scaredy cat– and despite that, he likes to read to the deceased in the cemetery, likes to help the souls that may linger there feel less lonely, likes to let them know they aren’t forgotten. His poems of choice are sweet things, full of love and joy– and his utterances of true love stir you; a soul who died before knowing love, and who craves it even in death. And Changbin decides, then and there, that he wants to give you what you couldn’t have in life.

♡ Warnings: discussions about death ofc (reader is quite literally dead and a ghost lol), i thought making reader the ghost instead of bin would be a fun lil twist as that usually isn't the case in fics like these? just wanted to try somethin a lil different :')

♡ Smut Warnings: sweet + tender smut because i'm a yearner for bin first and foremost!, no intended dom/sub dynamics but i did write a lot of bin begging so :), pet names (baby, honey), exhibitionism, voyeurism, some nipple play, mutual masturbation while cuddling

♡ Notes: my kinktober opened up dark but we are returning to standard form with my precious sweet binnie!! i did originally have something dark planned for bin too but i scrapped it pretty early on cause it didn't feel right lol i couldn't do it!! also the poem binnie is reading at the beginning of the fic is "since feeling is first" by e.e. cummings!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Changbin curses the autumn sun for setting so early– why on earth is it already so dark at 6 o’clock?!

The full moon hangs over him, and gosh, he wishes he could've gotten here earlier in the day– maybe then he wouldn’t still be here, in the local cemetery at night, with nothing but his poem book in hand.

He wishes even more that he at least had a flashlight– but the batteries were drained in the one he has sitting in his car's glove box, and it's not like he can leave spares in there; that's dangerous! So all he can do now is keep turning in the moonlight, trying to get it to hit the page of his book just right so he can keep reading.

Perhaps the reason he's here is silly, but Changbin fully believes in ghosts. Well, to be more precise, he thinks that there are many souls in the world, and that not every soul is here physically.

Most souls, he thinks, depart for a better place when their flesh dies, but he also thinks there are many that don’t– many that stick around because there is something they still wish to do, or because they have someone they still wish to see.

That’s what always brings him here when he can spare a moment from his busy life. Because he believes that if spirits do still linger in this world like he thinks they do, if they haven’t yet found peace and moved on, they must be lonely.

It must be sad– to exist in the world you once knew, but be unable to interact with it the way you used to. For others to no longer be able to see you, touch you, or hear you.. He doesn’t want anyone, alive or otherwise, to feel forgotten or ignored. And if he can make a difference somehow, in whatever small and silly way it is, he’ll do it; because he’d want someone to do it for him.

Naturally, he didn’t intend to still be here at night; he just got caught up at work, and arrived here later than he typically would. But still, he didn’t want to just turn around and go home– he promised last week that he’d come back today to read!

And maybe ghosts, or spirits, or whatever you want to call them aren’t real; maybe he spends his time here reading to nothing and no one. But if there’s even a chance that someone can hear him, and who looks forward to the days he returns to keep them company, then he has to keep his promises.

Still, he’d be lying if he said he isn’t more than a little freaked out right now. He’s been here during the day plenty of times, and you’d think that’d mean he wouldn’t be scared of the place at night, but oh, you’d be so sorely mistaken.

He jumps every time the crisp, freshly fallen autumn leaves rustle from the wind, and from every shadow cast from the newly bare tree branches. He constantly glances over his shoulder, alerted from every small noise, whether it be an owl hooting or a cricket chirping.

And when a black cat appeared out of nowhere to bump against his leg, he let out the shrillest shriek before erupting into a fit of sneezes. He even jumped out of his skin from accidentally kicking a can while walking– and why is there litter in a cemetery anyways? Whoever left their trash here is so disrespectful!

Suffice it to say, Changbin really wants to get out of here– but there’s only one more batch of graves he hasn’t read over yet, and he doesn’t want to skip them over. It wouldn’t feel fair to them, especially not if they're waiting for him– the last thing he wants to do is disappoint someone.

“H-Hi everyone! Changbinnie’s back to read again, uhm– s-sorry I came so late, I’ll still read to you like I promised! J-Just give me a sec,” he says, trying to temper the fear in his voice as he continues to adjust the position of his book in the moonlight. Finally, he finds the perfect position for the moon to make the words in his book clear, and for the shadow he himself casts to not obscure them.

He takes one more tentative glance around, takes a breath to settle his nerves before he clears his throat to start. And thankfully, the fear does naturally start to dissipate a bit as he reads– serves as a good enough distraction from his eerie surroundings. "Since feeling is first, who pays any attention to the syntax of things, will never wholly kiss you. Wholly to be a fool while–"

Changbin pauses when he hears an unfamiliar sound, goosebumps erupting all along his skin as he looks up from his book. It was a soft, light and airy sound– almost like a voice, though he’s certain it couldn’t have been; because when he looks around, he doesn't see anyone. He’s as alone as he’s been from the start; so he assumes he's just psyching himself out, mistaking the steadily blowing wind for something it isn’t.

"Aish, it's nothing! Stop scaring yourself!" he whispers to himself before he continues to recite the words on the page. But he pauses yet again when he hears fallen leaves crinkle and a brittle tree branch snap just feet away from him. It spooks him good, it does– and he lets out an awkward laugh at himself when he realizes it was the black cat he saw earlier that made the sound; hopefully it keeps enough distance that he doesn't get the sneezes again.

Looking away from the cat that is currently working overtime to fray his nerves, he turns his attention back to his book. There's only a tiny bit of the poem left to go, and Changbin is confident he can get through it! No more being a scaredy cat over the little things, no more trembling breaths and anxious stutters– he can do this!

"The best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter, which says we are for each other; then laugh, leaning back in my arms. For life's not a paragraph, and death, I think, is no parenthesis."

With a sigh of relief to be finished, he closes his book and prepares to bid the inhabitants of the cemetery, that may or may not actually exist, a pleasant goodbye; and a swear that he's never staying past sundown again. He’ll stay longer next time, he promises, but he has to go home before he loses his mind.

He really hopes they do exist– he doesn't want to think he stuck around while scared out of his wits for no reason; he hopes someone heard him, and was comforted by his presence. And honestly, he thinks he deserves a pat on the back after all the trials he's gone through in the last 30 minutes!

And as he finishes tucking his poem book in his arm and looks up, he sees someone. Translucent, hazy, floating, just a few feet in front of him– he can see straight through them, can see all the dark trees and short, stone headstones that live in the ground that the figure should obscure were they physically here.

Changbin blinks, almost wanting to cartoonishly rub his eyes and slap his cheeks to make sure he's seeing properly and not losing his mind like he fears. What he does instead is shriek, positively jumps out of his skin once again as he drops his book and falls back on his behind from the fright.

He scrambles backwards, ducks behind a nearby headstone and brings a hand over his racing heart. He takes a few breaths, does his best to calm down before he slowly peeks out from behind the headstone to see if the figure is still there.

He doesn't see anyone anymore– was he just seeing things? He has been really scared, so he doesn't think it impossible that his mind would start tricking him. But what if he really saw a ghost? The thought makes goosebumps rise on his skin again– God, he needs to go home already.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" he hears a voice, airy and otherworldly, just behind him. His breath hitches, and hesitantly, slowly, he starts to turn toward the source of the voice. You float there, brows furrowed as you call to him, glowing ever so slightly in the palest shade of blue.

A chill runs down his spine, and it's not just from how frightened he is– it's because cold air is quite literally radiating off of you. "Y-You– You're– You're a–" You're a ghost, he's trying to say, but the word catches in his throat. It doesn't help that his teeth are chattering now– he can even see his breath with every word he manages to choke out.

And yes, he already thought ghosts were real– the whole reason he comes here to comfort spirits is because he believes in them! But he’s never actually seen one before, nor heard their disembodied voices calling to him. And now that it’s actually happening, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You can hear me! I knew it! You can see me too, can’t you?” you exclaim joyously, clapping your hands together in utter delight. You’re less transparent than before, your form less blurry– but you don’t look solid either. If he stuck his hand out to touch you, he’s sure it’d pass right through you.

He swallows as he watches you dart side to side in your glee, the motions so smooth it’s unnatural. You look around his age, he thinks, though it’s impossible for him to tell exactly how old you are– or rather, were. Your hair is wispy, floats around you in a way reminiscent of being underwater; your long dress does too, light and delicate in appearance.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Changbin,” you tell him earnestly as you float down to his eye level, “I didn’t mean to, I just got so excited you could finally hear me– I'm so happy!”

“You– you know my name?” Changbin questions, bewildered– honestly, he feels like he’s going to pass out. “Of course I do! You come here every week to read to me,” you reply with a giggle, as if the idea that you wouldn’t know his name is a silly one.

“O-Oh, right, yeah, of course, that makes sense,” he mutters. He’s still shocked, but he’s not as scared as before, and he manages to relax just a little. “You, uhm– you listen to me read often then..?” he follows up hesitantly; and it’s probably such a silly question, but you’ll have to forgive him because he’s never had a conversation with a ghost before.

“Yes! I love when you come to visit and read your poems, it always makes me happy,” you tell him, adjusting your position so you’re sitting down with him– though you aren’t actually sitting on the dirt like he is, but levitating off the ground.

You introduce yourself after that, smile happily when he repeats it, because it’s been oh so long since someone said your name. “If you’re always here, why couldn’t I see you before?” Changbin can’t help but ask after, because now that the fear is dissipating he’s full of questions he wants to ask you.

“Well, the conditions have to be right! You can’t see me when it’s bright out, and you never stay 'til dark. And now I know why, scaredy cat,” you tease him, giggling when he pouts and huffs. You honestly find it endearing that someone as seemingly strong as Changbin is so easily frightened by little things.

“Hey, you’d be scared too!” he complains, though he can’t help but smile as you keep giggling at him. He never expected to befriend a ghost, but you’re obviously a kind spirit, and your delight to be talking to him is evident. And now that he’s over the shock and the fear, and really looks at you, he thinks you’re pretty too– beautiful, even.

Is that strange? Maybe; but you are still a person at the end of the day. You float, you’re a little transparent, you glow pale blue and cold air surrounds you, but you’re still a person.

And at the same time, he can’t help but feel sad too– death comes for everyone, he knows, but it feels unfair that someone like you is already gone from this world. Someone as young, kind, and beautiful as you should’ve lived a long, full life.

“You need to have strong emotions to manifest, y’know? And the moon helps– when it's full like this, it gives me more energy than I usually have,” you continue to explain when your giggling subsides, and Changbin hums contemplatively, thinking for a moment before he responds.

“You have strong emotions then? Something that keeps you here?” It makes sense that you would– as far as he knows, strong emotions are the only things tethering spirits to the physical world; so if you’re not at rest, it has to be because there’s something within you that feels unresolved, something you needed or wanted but never obtained.

Tentatively you nod, fiddling with your fingers and averting your gaze slightly. “I do, but.. It’s– it’s silly,” you mumble, and Changbin’s previous lighthearted, curious expression shifts, suddenly turning serious as he gazes at you with a slight frown.

“If it mattered to you– if it still matters to you, it’s not silly,” he says, and the sincerity in which he says it would make your heart race if you were still alive. If you’re being entirely honest, you’re in love with Changbin– and that’s part of the problem.

When you were alive, all you’d ever wanted was love– to meet someone that knocked you off your feet with just a glance, someone sweet, sincere, and tender. Someone that you could marry someday, maybe start a family with while living together in a quaint little idyllic house.

But that never happened– and the sense of despair and unfulfillment you felt from having your dreams taken away from you are what kept you here. You didn’t know what to do when you realized what happened to you– spent your days wailing in frustration and sadness to the few other spirits inhabiting the cemetery with you over the unfair circumstances.

What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to find peace and move on? Maybe the only way would be to learn to accept it– accept that your dreams would never come true, and just let them go. You didn’t want to, but if you kept holding onto them, who knows when you’d finally move on from this world?

And around the same time you were grappling with such thoughts and feelings is when you first saw Changbin, who came to the cemetery for no reason other than to give you and the other inhabitants some company. And he wasn’t talking only to you, but it always felt like he was– like every word that left his lips was entirely for you alone.

“I’m here for you, you’re not alone as long as Changbin is here,” “This poem is my favorite, I hope you like it too,” “Did you have a good day today? It’s okay if you didn’t– Binnie’ll hopefully make it better!”

That’s all it took, really– and suddenly, you weren’t bound to this world because you never knew love; you were bound to this world because you felt it too much. You love him; not just because of his sweet personality, but every little detail about him– from the swoop and curl of his hair, to his chubby cheeks, to his cute, pretty and pouty lips.

And you long to kiss him, but Changbin is alive, and you very much aren’t anymore– and there’s no way he’ll fall in love with a ghost. Still, you believe him when he says that what binds you here isn’t silly– or that he won’t think so, at least.

“It’s just.. Well, I can’t have what I want, I know I can’t, but I still want it anyways; like, even though I should just let it go, I can’t bring myself to. I think that’s why I’m still here,” you tell him, deciding it’s best to keep your desires down to their vaguest parts.

Changbin is sweet, and he looks at you with so much care that you’re certain he’d be understanding and sympathetic, but it’s probably for the best that you don’t pour your heart out beyond that.

“Is there really no way for you to have what you want? If there’s anything I can do to help, you can tell me! I’d do my best,” he expresses sincerely, and though you can’t physically cry anymore, it almost makes you feel like you will. He’s just too sweet, you can’t take it.

“M-Maybe, but I wouldn’t ask for it,” you reply, and his brows furrow a little. “Why not? You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to, but I hope you know that I mean it when I say I'd be happy to help you," Changbin says, smile so patient, gentle and sweet that it if you were still alive, your cheeks would definitely be heating up right now.

Should you give it a shot? What's the worst that could happen? You're already dead, so it's not like you can die from embarrassment if he shuts you down. The worst he can say is no– and that would be okay too, because maybe with his rejection you'd finally be able to let go of what keeps you here.

“You could.. kiss me?” you say after a moment of hesitation, and Changbin almost squeaks from how surprised he is, blinks at you with the cutest flustered expression you’ve ever seen.

“Th-That’s– that’s what you want?” he stutters out, and even in the low light of the moon, you can tell he’s blushing, the soft pink spreading over his cheeks and crawling up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s– it’s what I wanted when I was alive. To kiss someone I love, I mean,” you answer, and it gets Changbin’s heart racing. Not just that someone as pretty as you, ghost or not, wants to kiss him, but the implication that you love him that definitely wasn’t missed by him.

“It was the poems, wasn’t it?” he says with a bashful little downturned smile a moment later, and you laugh, in your delightfully light and airy way as you nod. “They helped. But really, I just think you’re very cute– and very sweet.”

It’s a little strange, being complimented like this by a ghost, and learning that said ghost has very deep rooted feelings for him– but he likes it. And maybe it’s a little unorthodox, but he’d be happy to give you what you want; especially if it will help you find peace.

“I’ll kiss you,” he tells you, and it’s not because he feels obligated, or like he should– it’s because, believe it or not, he sincerely wants to. He thinks you're pretty, you're sweet and earnest, and you love him– so who cares if you're a ghost; why shouldn't he kiss you?

“A-Are you sure? You really don’t have to,” you assure him, and Changbin smiles at you as he nods, entirely certain. “I know I don’t have to. I want to kiss you.” Your spiritual heart soars and burns with joy– and slowly, timidly, you return his smile before you float your way closer to him, and reach your hand out to touch his cheek.

He doesn’t feel your touch, not really– just the cold that pours from you. Regardless, he closes his eyes for you, purses his lips and slightly tilts his head the way he would if he were kissing anyone else. And again, he doesn’t feel your lips, but the cold– that is, until the feeling suddenly starts to become fuller.

Slowly, he can begin to feel the way your hand rests on his cheek, can feel your lips slotted against his. He can feel your other hand resting on his chest, right over his heart, can feel the weight of your body on his lap, and he shivers– not because of the cold, but because he can actually feel you now.

Instinctively, he moves his hands to try and touch you– and is pleasantly surprised to find he can. His hands don’t phase through you like he thought they would earlier– he can feel you under his fingertips, as if you’re just as corporeal as he himself is. And so he holds you close, kisses you slow and sweet, over and over until he’s out of breath.

“You’re still here,” he can’t help but whisper when he pulls away; he half expected you to dissipate the moment you got what you wanted, though he’s not sure if that’s actually how it's supposed to work. And he’s left with a strange feeling– on one hand, he’s sad for you because he really did want to help you move on. On the other hand, he likes that you’re still here, that he can still see you and feel you.

In reality, you feel like his kiss tethered you even more to the physical world. You’re the happiest you’ve ever been, and instead of it giving you the peace you needed to move on, it bound you here stronger. You're filled with a strong desire to remain here, to be with Changbin, and you feel that it has made you manifest more than you’d ever been able to before.

You’ve tried many times before, but have never been able to manifest yourself this much; to the point that not only could you be seen and heard, but felt– and whether it’s because the full moon is helping, or because Changbin’s kiss gave you more energy and purpose, or a mix of both, you’re happy.

“I think I like you too much to move on.” you tell him, and he giggles as he squeezes you closer, his nose scrunching cutely whilst he hugs you.

“I’m sorry– I feel like I shouldn’t be, but I’m happy you’re still here,” he says, and you shake your head, returning his smile as you share the sentiment. “I’m happy I’m still here too.”

It’s a bit strange, having a ghost for a partner. Sharing a kiss attached you to him; and no longer bound to your grave, but to Changbin himself, now you go wherever he goes. You don’t need to always be right on him, of course– but you do have to be close; and every time one of you steps too far out of that radius, you always end up snapping back to him.

It’s a generous radius, really– you can go several miles before the invisible tether connecting you snaps you back to his side. It’s more than enough for you to exist in his house while he goes to work– and really, he’s happy to share his home with you; he’s sure it beats staying in the cemetery all day, every day.

And even when he can’t see you, whether because the sun is too bright in the sky or because you don’t have enough energy to manifest that day, he can feel you– and you make yourself known in little ways. His house is always cold now, but it’s especially cold when you’re nearby. You flicker his lights and turn his tv screen to static to get his attention, or leave a message in the steam from his hot showers on the mirror.

He’ll get a phantom phone call to his landline, where all that exists on the other line is static– but even if he can’t hear it, he’s sure at that moment you’re saying something sweet. And while he's mostly used to these occurrences now, he'll still jump when he hears a sudden noise before he remembers it’s you; a tapping on the wood of his bed frame, usually– 8 knocks meant to signify “I love you.”

Nights of the full moon are always when you can manifest yourself the fullest and easiest, and you both take full advantage of the time you have before you eventually start to become hazy and transparent again. Tonight is one of those nights; the moon hanging high, bright and beautiful, illuminating his dark room in the same pretty, pale blue that glows off you.

“Baby, please–! You’re so cold, warn me first!” Changbin cries when you first touch him. He already knows you’re not going to waste any time in getting to touch him when you first manifest, but the chill that radiates off you still jolts him every time.

“You’re just so warm,” you muse happily as you snake your limbs around him, sap him for all the warmth he’s worth under his fluffy comforter, “my big teddy bear.” He huffs, but smiles as he does– he can’t actually be upset with you, after all.

“You should let me take your warmth anyways– you were so mean, ignoring me all day,” you pout as you snuggle into him, burying your head in the warm crook of his neck.

“Hey, hey! Don’t say that, that’s not fair! You know I couldn’t see you!” he wails dramatically, and you have to make an effort not to giggle, bury your face further into him so he can’t see you smiling.

Of course, you know it’s not his fault in the slightest that he couldn’t see your or hear you earlier today, but you still like to tease him over it just a little– his reactions to it are always so cute. “So mean,” you repeat, your voice muffled by his sweater.

He knows that you’re doing it to get a rise out of him, and you know that he knows. But he likes doing this with you– it’s silly fun, and he loves the precious smile that spreads on your face when he plays along and inevitably dotes on you while begging for your forgiveness.

“Aigoo, my baby is really upset. Guess Binnie just has to make it up to you, huh?” he says, and you lift your head just enough to peek an eye at him. “Tell Changbinnie what you want, he’ll give it to you. He’s really sorry,” he entices you further, and the cute smile he was expecting and loves so much makes its full appearance.

“Want a kiss,” you say, pursing your lips at him in that cute duck shape as you wait for him to comply. He tries to coo at you, but it comes out more like a giggle before he’s lifting his head from the pillow to kiss you, tender and sweet.

“Do you forgive me now?” he asks when he pulls away, and you hum as you pretend to think about it. “Mm, I don’t know. I think I might need another one to decide.”

Changbin fully laughs then, shakes his head and mutters something about you being cute before he kisses you again. He shifts onto his side as he kisses you, making it easier for you to tangle your legs with his. He hisses when your cold toes touch the backs of warm calves, and you giggle an apology, though he knows you’re not actually sorry about it at all.

You always tell him how much you love his warmth, and how it radiates from every inch of him. And he’ll pout and shout, half-heartedly complain when you surprise him by touching him with your cold digits, simply because he knows it makes you laugh; you both know that in reality, he’s happy to be your personal heater.

He shivers when you snake your hands under his sweater; your hands aren’t as cold as they were when you first touched him anymore, but it’s still enough for goosebumps to follow the path of your fingers– or maybe he just has goosebumps because he likes you touching him.

Changbin gasps when you brush over his peaking, puffy nipples, and you take that moment to slip your tongue into this mouth. He moans when you pinch them between your fingers, tweak and twist just enough to have him squirming.

“Honey,” he breathes in a near whine when you pull away from him to kiss over his jaw, and the scar that sits on his chin, while your fingers continue to play with his body.

“I missed you,” you speak against his skin as you press kisses along his neck, “I heard you earlier– saw you touching yourself in the shower. I wanted you so bad, but I couldn’t do anything about it.” He whimpers at that, squeezes you where his hand rests on your waist.

Naturally, the fact that you can hear him and see him even when he can’t see or hear you always exists in the back of his mind. Every time he starts to touch himself, it’s something he considers– and he even likes it; likes knowing you’re there, watching and listening.

“I’m sorry, couldn’t help it,” he whines an apology, though he knows he doesn’t have to. You’ve both talked about it, of course– how you like watching him, and how he likes being watched in turn. There’s something naughty about it, and it always leaves him feeling extra desired and sexy when you later tell him what you saw, how much you want him because of it.

And when he feels a sudden chill run along his body and down the length of his spine, is hit with the inexplicable sensation of being watched, he knows it’s you. It always fuels him, makes him fist his cock faster and run his mouth, hoping you like everything he’s spilling.

Really, it’s no wonder that you always jump his bones the minute you can. Changbin thinks he’d go insane if the situation were the opposite; if he could see you touching yourself, could hear every little noise of pleasure you release, and not be able to join no matter how bad he wanted to. He’s already desperate for more intimacy with you as is– he doesn’t think he’d be able to take it.

“Can you do it again? Touch yourself with me right here?” you ask him, and he can’t help the way his face flushes as you continue, “I want you to see me watching you this time.” You can feel the way his heart thumps in response to your request, how it picks up speed ever so slightly before he answers. “Y-Yeah, I can– I can do that for you, honey.”

You meant it when you said you like watching Changbin get off. You like watching his honeyed skin slowly take on more and more pink as he strokes his cock. You like watching his broad chest puff out, his stomach clench, his toned arms flex with every motion he makes.

You like watching the sweat build on his brow, and like to listen to his moans become more breathy and whiny as he gets closer and closer to release. And though Changbin isn’t naked now, you’ll still enjoy watching all the same; because he's beautiful, and handsome, and so utterly perfect when he's feeling good.

He reaches between your bodies, manages to get his pajama pants and underwear down just enough to release his still hardening cock from their confines. He bites his lip as he takes the short length in his hand, looks down at himself as he strokes it slowly before looking back at you.

There’s still enough lingering sensitivity from before that he squirms more than usual, but that’s not all there is to it– it's your attentive stare, the way you gaze into his eyes as he moans before you trail them away to watch him stroke himself, and back again. And you’re so close, body so tangled with his, that his fist keeps bumping into your thigh with each pump of his cock.

Changbin keens when you kiss him, so affectionate and tender that it makes his head spin. You can feel his thighs twitch as he starts to stroke himself faster, and you pull away to watch for a few moments before you tilt your head back up to kiss him again. He's fully hard now, dripping pre-cum so steadily that the glide of his hand becomes slick and effortless.

He whimpers when you pinch his nipples again, parts his lips so you can slip your tongue back into his mouth. His breathing becomes steadily harsher and uneven, his every moan and whimper muffled by your lips against his. He brings his other hand to your ass, squeezes it as he pulls you even closer to his body, as if the fact that you're not already mere inches apart with your limbs tangled together is enough for him.

And truly, he can't get enough of having you close like this. The way you kiss him, touch him, look at him, all while he’s stroking his cock for you– it really does something to him; makes him feel so good and so desired that he swears he could cum purely from the intimacy of it alone.

“You too, please?” Changbin pleads in a breathy exhale the next time you pull back from kissing him, “Please, want to watch you too.”

“Yeah? You want to watch me?” you smile, almost giggle from the eager nod and the whiny, desperate “please, want it so bad,” he gives in response. You’re sweet to your Binnie, oblige him in an instant, and he watches with eager eyes and bated breath as you dip your hand between your bodies.

Even with your dress already hiked all the way up your thighs, you’re so closely pressed to him that he can’t get a clear sight of your pussy; but watching your hand will be enough of a view for him. He'll be able to tell what you're doing, and that's all he really needs.

All you can reach while this close and tangled together with Changbin is your clit, and he watches you shudder at the first bit of stimulation to it from your fingers. He mimics what you’d done– alternates between watching your face and your hand, and God, every time your eyes meet again it takes his breath away.

It’s not the same as if you had a physical body like his– your face doesn’t flush, you don't sweat from exertion, and you don’t grow breathless the way he does, but you feel the pleasure all the same. He can tell from the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your body, and the bite of your lip as you gaze at him.

And you're so pretty, face so close to his that your foreheads touch, that his every breath tickles you. "Oh my god, baby–" he whimpers when you start to moan with him, picking up the pace of your hand when he does, matching his speed.

It makes him dizzy– because when he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s inside you; pretend that the sloppy, squelching sounds his fist creates are from your pussy instead. He can pretend that when you moan and whimper, it’s because he's stretching you out perfectly and hitting your spot just right.

He holds your gaze when he opens his eyes again, completely stops watching the motion of your fingers between your legs so he can strictly observe you, take in your pretty face and how you look when you're feeling good with him. It’s intimate, staring at you like this; it makes him squeeze his cock tighter, the motion of his fist quickly becoming erratic as he drives himself closer to release.

“Does it– do you feel good?” Changbin asks, because even though he knows, he still wants to hear you say it. “Do you like this? Tell me– please tell me.”

“Feels so good, Binnie, love this, love you so much– you can’t see it, but I always touch myself with you like this, always make myself cum watching you,” you tell him, and he whimpers from your admission, high-pitched and squeaky.

“Oh, ‘m so close– will you cum with me? Please, need you to cum with me,” Changbin whines and pleads, every inch of his body trembling as he tries to hold his orgasm back long enough to hear your answer.

“I will, ‘m gonna cum for you, Binnie, just for you,” you promise, reaching your free hand out to cup his face, keeping your eyes locked with his as you watch each other unravel. Your paces are frantic now, bodies bucking together with every combined motion of your hands between your tangled legs.

You lean forward to kiss him just as your high takes you, and it sends him right over the edge with you, eyes rolling back before they flutter closed. Noises of pleasure muffled by each other’s lips, his hips jolt as his cum spills over his fist, onto your thighs and the hand you have nestled between them.

He’s sure some of it got on his comforter too, but he doesn’t care– he just keeps kissing you as he comes down from his high, because despite how breathless he is, it's all he wants to do. “I love you so much,” he tells you after another sweet kiss, and you smile at him, tell him you love him too as you wipe the sweat sticking his curly hair to his forehead away.

You stay like that the rest of the night; tangled together, hugging each other close and kissing tenderly until Changbin’s fatigue prevents him from doing so any longer. He falls asleep like that, holding you to his body as much as he can; and even when your physical form starts to dissipate with the rising of the sun, you stay right against him.

When he wakes in the morning, he can’t see you anymore, but he knows you’re there. He tells you he loves you, and he smiles when you reply with your 8 little knocks to his bed frame. He talks to you throughout his morning, as he always does, because even if he can’t see you, he knows you’re listening.

And when he decides to go back to the cemetery to read to the other spirits that still linger there, as he promised them he would, you go with him. He saves your grave for last, and you watch as he puts flowers on your headstone before he settles in to read to you; and even when he can’t see you because the sun is just too bright, he can feel you there, sitting next to him and listening to his poems.

When he’s finished reading, he’ll feel a sudden touch of cold on his cheek, and he’ll know it’s from you kissing him. He’ll smile, place his hand over the spot and tell you again that he loves you. And when Changbin returns home, and the light of the moon helps you manifest again, he’ll kiss you all over and squeeze you tight, with a million promises of forever on his lips.

#skz x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #changbin smut #skz fanfic #changbin fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune #kinktober fic and yet i once again wrote more plot than porn. yeah it's fine what's new #but also the me who thought she could write something short and plot-free for binnie was so funny. like who do you think you are?

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apoemaday · 10 months ago

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Eurydice

by Carol Ann Duffy

Girls, I was dead and down in the Underworld, a shade, a shadow of my former self, nowhen. It was a place where language stopped, a black full stop, a black hole Where the words had to come to an end. And end they did there, last words, famous or not. It suited me down to the ground.

So imagine me there, unavailable, out of this world, then picture my face in that place of Eternal Repose, in the one place you’d think a girl would be safe from the kind of a man who follows her round writing poems, hovers about while she reads them, calls her His Muse, and once sulked for a night and a day because she remarked on his weakness for abstract nouns. Just picture my face when I heard -- Ye Gods -- a familiar knock-knock at Death’s door.

Him. Big O. Larger than life. With his lyre and a poem to pitch, with me as the prize.

Things were different back then. For the men, verse-wise, Big O was the boy. Legendary. The blurb on the back of his books claimed that animals, aardvark to zebra, flocked to his side when he sang, fish leapt in their shoals at the sound of his voice, even the mute, sullen stones at his feet wept wee, silver tears.

Bollocks. (I’d done all the typing myself, I should know.) And given my time all over again, rest assured that I’d rather speak for myself than be Dearest, Beloved, Dark Lady, White Goddess etc., etc.

In fact girls, I’d rather be dead.

But the Gods are like publishers, usually male, and what you doubtless know of my tale is the deal.

Orpheus strutted his stuff.

The bloodless ghosts were in tears. Sisyphus sat on his rock for the first time in years. Tantalus was permitted a couple of beers. The woman in question could scarcely believe her ears.

Like it or not, I must follow him back to our life -- Eurydice, Orpheus’ wife -- to be trapped in his images, metaphors, similes, octaves and sextets, quatrains and couplets, elegies, limericks, villanelles, histories, myths…

He’d been told that he mustn’t look back or turn round, but walk steadily upwards, myself right behind him, out of the Underworld into the upper air that for me was the past. He’d been warned that one look would lose me for ever and ever.

So we walked, we walked. Nobody talked.

Girls, forget what you’ve read. It happened like this -- I did everything in my power to make him look back. What did I have to do, I said, to make him see we were through? I was dead. Deceased. I was Resting in Peace. Passé. Late. Past my sell-by date… I stretched out my hand to touch him once on the back of the neck. Please let me stay. But already the light had saddened from purple to grey.

It was an uphill schlep from death to life and with every step I willed him to turn. I was thinking of filching the poem out of his cloak, when inspiration finally struck. I stopped, thrilled. He was a yard in front. My voice shook when I spoke -- Orpheus, your poem’s a masterpiece. I’d love to hear it again…

He was smiling modestly, when he turned, when he turned and he looked at me.

What else? I noticed he hadn’t shaved. I waved once and was gone.

The dead are so talented. The living walk by the edge of a vast lake near, the wise, drowned silence of the dead.

#poetry #carol ann duffy #eurydice

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crystaldivination · 1 year ago

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"𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒"

› 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 ＆ 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ‹

𝆩 pick a cards 𝆩 paid services 𝆩 leave a tip

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝟏, 𝟐, 𝟑,

𝟒, 𝟓, 𝟔

Hello lovelies, it’s been a while. I wanted to put in some effort and provide you guys with a good content that longer is than usual so I came up with this pick a card reading based on one of my paid services option that you can also purchase for a minimum price. I hope y'all like this and would love to hear what you think about it. Enjoy and I’m sending you lots of love your way! 🤎

ℒ 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟐𝟑𝟑 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ℒ

— "the power of divine connection and a sign from the heavens that our inner wisdom can help us find our soulmate" —

— "love and your connection with someone is about to change for the better" —

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞? As always meditate or close your eyes before looking at each picture. Trust your intuition and pick out a picture you feel the most drawn to.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: this is a general reading which may or may not resonate with you. Take what resonates and leave out anything that doesn't. Feel free to choose another pile if you'd like.

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏 — 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 & 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

♥︎ ♥︎

ℒ book the same reading as 'Soul calling' for 4€ from my enchanted door ⊂🍸⊃

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

How do I not think about you? I long for you. Is this what being in love feels like? I smile even though you’re not mine. It’s already late but I’m still looking at the ceiling, tossing and turning endlessly. I’m lying on my bed hugging someone’s smile feeling so restless until the morning. Can you see how foolishly I’m holding my face while smiling wide? Each night I’m dreaming of standing next to you in the pink spring sun. Time passes by quickly that I don’t even notice and brings me sorrow and nostalgia. I called your name softly, painted my own hope. A stream of emotions rushed inside me by the time I realized that I’m in love with you. I had to do something about it, don’t you think? But instead I’m still keeping it to myself as I have no one to share with. Insecurities are filling me up as to how you’d think of me and see me after you know. It’s sad but kind of funny. You know the stars in the sky are my only friends who listened to me babbling about a first love as beautiful as a dream. I don’t usually write but for the first time I’m finding myself fantasizing about writing you poems to confess my love for you. My feelings are overflowing for you that I even forget my hunger at the thought of you. I’m singing alone like a fool.

Can I hold your soft hands for once? I imagine about your rare eyes that are shining so brightly and looking up at me. Just thinking about this makes my heart beat so fast as if it’d explode. Turns out when we love someone even if it’s a one-sided love, even if I can’t let go, I still find myself laughing and smiling at 3 am. Just hug me, please hug me. Hug me in my dreams. Just that only already makes me crazy happy like you’re right beside me. My body is burning up for you, because of you. Like a fever how it seems like I'm with you. I’m about to write you some sweet verses and want you to name it. How would you name me too? I want you to call me names. Missing you, wanting you so much right now. Like crazy, what to do now? You keep making me go crazy. I can’t concentrate, my mind keeps wandering elsewhere. I’m always elsewhere. How much is it enough to be lonely filled with thoughts? Me stupidly loving you on my own, loving you to the point of not caring how much time and how many days have passed.

Love your eyes, love your lips and here I’m still denying it. My shy heart unreliably continues to beat the wrong heartbeats. More and more each day. My love for you grows each day. Want to hold those hands once. I’m letting myself immersing and getting lost in each soft and soothing verses describing you. Even the stars can understand how in love I am with you. You’re as beautiful as an angel. As if you’re an angel. My angel. If only…if only… What can I do? Please tell me. All these delusions and hallucinations are making me high. I’m love sick with you. Touch me, love me, kiss me if you can. Do anything to me just don’t do nothing. I’m tired of not having you but I can’t stop my greediness. Please look at me. Do you even notice me? Is this love? Can this be love? Who am I to not give in… You’re making me feel this type of way just for it to be nothing at the end. The more hurt I am, the more I want you though. My insatiable thirst for you tortures me. Please be mine. I’m here waiting for you.

Channeled songs:

• Like Crazy (English Version) — Jimin

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, edit, alter, or redistribute my work. Plagiarism in any form is prohibited. Any illegal attempt to violate these terms will result in immediate legal action.

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𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬

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ℒ book the same reading as 'Soul calling' for 4€ from my enchanted door ⊂🍸⊃

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I should’ve known better. Can’t even pretend like I don’t want it again. You’re on my brain all the time. Thinking about what all we could do. You did something to me 'cause this doesn’t happen too often. Something that makes me look at you too often. And baby you can give it something. My heart, my mind and my body is saying…my mind and my body is saying…my mind and my heart is saying… I don’t know what it is. I can’t tell you what it is but you got me going crazy. I’m talking crazy. I need you right now. It’s the way that your body moves, your hands touch, your lips look, your gazes hypnotize me. Love me nice and slow baby. I want to feel all the love you’ve got for me. You make me wanna replay all of the things that you and I, we do. Baby come through my phone. Tell me how much you miss me, how much you want me and I’ll make it come true. Put it down on me. Look at what you make me wanna do. Drop everything and everyone for you. Got my feeling running on the loose, wild. This ain’t what I’m really used to but I like it. If it’s you I’m all yours. I’m all in.

Let me pull out this car for you. Let us go on a race but let’s make it long and slow. Are you ready for this marathon baby? Let me hear you say "pull it". Are you waiting to get some more? I want to hear it. Beg me, lovely cupcake. I want to see you on a whim. Can I see that look on your face? The one that would say "chase me". How you wanna play this, baby? Baby you can ride all the time. I want to be in trouble, how about you? Promise me you don’t trip cause I want it to last forever. Show me how good of a troublemaker you can be, baby. I think too often about you baby, let’s cuddle up afterwards. Tell me about your day while I softly kiss your neck. Truly love you, do you know how much I love you? It’s not just the s*x and how our body move together and collide. Just know that I’m serious with you. I still remember the moment you lit up in a smile or those moments when you show signs of jealousy. I will remember them forever until I’m still with you and beside you. Even if we’re apart my heart is still yearning and waiting for you. Your love changed me, calling and waking up my peace. I’m missing you. Funny just how many stories can be made out from us for all that we’ve experienced and those nights hoping for you, dreaming about you.

I don’t need much in life. Just need you to understand me and know that I always and will always love you because in me there is only you. You’re my only reason. Saving you thousands of heartfelt lyrics and poems. I would give you all the sunrays and cool breezes you need. You’ve awoken me, the glow in me so i’m trying to be an inspiration to you, your kind of inspiration. I will help you find a passion that’s more beautiful than that I have for you in my dream. Forget all those worries because I’ll be there and follow you like a shadow wanting to guide your steps on a long path with only us two. I wanna be in your arms. I think I’m under your spell cause every time I’m near you my heart starts to roll, I always want more. You’re my heaven and my hell but I won’t deny, I won’t be scared. We can head deeper, seeing what there is more to know. I won’t hear or see anything else other than your heartbeats next to mine. There’s no forgetting you. I won’t quit you, I can’t and I’m not gonna regret it. Lay me down, bare me naked. You can take away my heart. Feel my burning desire in me for you. You make me want to risk it all for you and I’ve made up my mind. I’m gonna take that risk and risk it all for you my baby.

Channeled songs:

• Quit (ft. Ariana Grande) — Cashmere Cat

PS. I literally heard this whole song while channeling their messages so I decided to include specific fragments of it in the reading. The song could be in some way significant for them/for you and/or for your connection whether this be a display of their current energy (for you) or the dynamic between you both OR it could just be that what they wanted to say match these lyrics a little too well 🤷🏻‍♀️

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𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑 — 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

♥︎ ♥︎

ℒ book the same reading as 'Soul calling' for 4€ from my enchanted door ⊂🍸⊃

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

I do whatever you say. Do whatever you want me to. Baby I'm okay. You can break my heart in two. If your heart has been broken before, let me put it back for you. Look into my eyes, open up your mind. I won’t tell a lie, I won't make you cry. I won’t be someone to make you worry each night. You don’t have to stay up at night waiting for me 'cause I won’t come home late to you. Won't you hold my hand? It never felt so right for me. I need you here tonight. Whisper sweet nothings into my ear while I make you feel so good like you’re on cloud nine. I will take you to heaven. Won’t you answer me? It doesn’t really matter because I got plans to get to know you better. Baby let's make what we got here last forever 'cause I don't wanna let you go, never. Dearest darling I just wanna be the one to do you right. We're standing here looking at each other, baby, eye to eye. Baby, I hope that you're thinking about giving me a chance with you tonight. You know how to do it so well that I don't know if I could ever get enough.

You belong with me. We belong to each other. Every place you go, I’ll follow. I’d be there. Can you trust me? Whenever there’s a shadow in your heart I’ll talk to you before your heart sinks. When it appears I’ll come running to you. I told you I’ll be your rescue. I’ll come to your rescue. When your heart feels heavy I’ll lift it up for you. We don’t need to do anything. Let’s just not do anything. If you change your mind I’ll grab onto your waist. I will hold you tight enough for you not to be able to slip away. I want to embrace you and let you feel love. And if you’re okay with it I’ll kiss you hard and soak in your scent. I wanna fall asleep drenched with your warmth and softness. Wrap your head around my neck. I’ll hold your mind so you won’t have bad dreams. I’ll hold your body so you won’t think of anything else. When you lean onto me I can feel the cool breeze of yours blew over me. A beautiful melody passes through my ears. Morning with you…it’ll be beautiful. Just like magic how your body feels on mine.

The way you love is one of a kind. Your love is healing. I feel safe with you and you make me come every time. I’ll pat your head and kiss your forehead like aftercare. You’re the only person I ever think about, nobody else compares. I want to get to know every side of you. I’m going to sit at the table and dream. Just like this again. I want the night to come earlier. You make my days better. I want you to give me more once again. So I hope you’ll come into my arms again. What words can I use to describe you? My heart is too deep. Can you come inside my mind? Will I be able to rise in your heart? I live through you. I’ll hold your heart. I can be a safe haven, an anchor for you to feel secured and stable. I’ll ease your mind and make you feel good all the time. I’ll wait until the moment you say "I feel the same way as you". I’ll be your song. Or a reassurance. Anytime in your ears. It will stay until you fall asleep. Until I can see you telling me with a smile that you feel the same way…until then.

Channeled songs:

• Adore (ft. Ariana Grande) — Cashmere Cat

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𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟒 — 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞

♥︎ ♥︎

ℒ book the same reading as 'Soul calling' for 4€ from my enchanted door ⊂🍸⊃

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Is it already too late? I can’t stop myself from losing you. Tell me if you still want me and if you still need me. If only I didn't let go of your hand… If only you didn’t waver and I didn’t let myself waver from all the unimportant outside noises that came in between us. If only we didn’t run away at that time, what could’ve been out of us now?… If only we didn’t hide our weaknesses that we didn’t want the other to see. If we were brave enough to show what we didn’t ask each other. If only we didn’t keep it in us, keep it to ourselves. Would something have changed if we locked lips and kiss passionately just like the first time? If only at that time we didn't act like we were okay. If only we haven’t tried to fight it and didn’t pretend like everything didn't hurt as if our love ain't worth the risk… If only the world wasn't so evil to us, didn't let us be weak because we were too used to being on guard and bear with everything. The cuts have not healed but we pretended to be strong, no longer knew how to cry. And if only I wasn't so paranoid that one day you would disappear. If only I weren't hung up on the fact… If only you had proven to me that I was the only one. If only you would show me that I was the only one for you and if only I trusted you, you trusted me, we trusted each other then would you still be by my sidе? Would we still be together? Still laugh when we hear and see each other's names? Then would we still be madly in love, madly love like the first day we come to each other? Like the first day we fell in love, like the first day we were together?

Nights when I laid awake to pray, when you were all I’m thinking of. Days when I promised that whatever happens, I will still love you. I promised you no matter what may happen, I’ll love you. If that were true, would we still be in love? If only at that time we didn't let go of each other's hands… I’m thinking about if only at that time we didn't run away and if only at that time we weren't like that. Maybe, maybe... If I didn’t let you go. If only you and I had stayed. If only we didn't go that way… But maybe everything had to happen like that so I could learn to love myself. It’s time I have to admit that I have always been lying to my heart. Because if you wanted to, you would, but you didn't. It’s time for me to realize that I’ve been lying to myself 'cause it was easy to see but you were running from me. I hate the way I made excuses for every time you were so heartless. I hate the way I defended you every time you were so thoughtless. I hate the way I always said I was ok when I was lonely. I hate that I acted like that. I hate the way I felt humiliated and drown in self-pity. Hate cruel public opinions, hate thinking about you so much. I hate how I kept thinking about you too often. Hate to keep silent, pretending like I don't care.

But I still feel bad, cause it’s not just you. I’ve also made mistakes many times too, please forgive me. You and I we both know, we were not perfect. I didn’t want to let you down. You know I'll never be perfect. I never want to see you hurting. Promised you things that are now just a fantasy, a dream, forgive me. Promises I couldn’t keep, forgive me. Had to walk away to heal myself, forgive me. Forgive me for shutting you out so I could hold me. Found a new love and I hope you’ll forgive me. Forgive me for allowing myself to receive a new love and taking care of myself. Learn how to take responsibility for my own emotions, forgive me. Appreciate all the things that I have, all that I have now, forgive me. I hope you can do that too. So that one day we can see each other again, go back to each other. So that one day we can come back to each other again, smile at each other when we meet eyes even if we are no longer madly in love like the first day we were together. But we can get to know each other again like from the start. No more fears or doubts like before. Maybe one day you’ll hold me tight. Maybe one day we’ll do it right. How do you feel?… about it? What do you think?… about it? How do you like it?…

I hope we can meet again. We’re bound to meet again. That’s what I think. Love is pain, love is forgiveness. Love is an experience, a journey and I hope there’s a silver lining to ours as well. I’m still with you…

Channeled songs:

• Lose you to love me — Selena Gomez • Back to you — Selena Gomez

PS. These songs can describe the dynamic & feelings of both parties towards each other so the songs can be relevant for both of you

Side note: I got told that the messages for this pile match a song called © "neu luc do" by tlinh. I didn’t know of it until now but that’s what I heard while channeling the respective messages. Since this pac is based on songs anyway, just like pile 2 where I heard one whole song and included fragments of it in the readings as they seem to be important and really specific based on it, here it could also be that the subject of these messages identifies with the song hence I picked up these "lyrics" from their mind. I didn’t and don’t at all intend to steal anybody’s work!

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𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟓 — 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞

♥︎ ♥︎

ℒ book the same reading as 'Soul calling' for 4€ from my enchanted door ⊂🍸⊃

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Didn't say a word but I seem to know what you want. Just tell me, if it's not a miss, I might accidentally also like it. Don't look at me as if it’s something new like the first time when everywhere in this body you’re already used to. If you’ve already forgotten then I have an idea… what about we get to know each other again so you can get used to it again? I like your vibe, you know I’m a fan. I like your style and what you wear. I bet you’d look good even in mine but i don't like them on you or me tonight. I might like it better if I can trace your line and paint your silhouette on me. So you don’t need your clothes on anymore. I want to take a look inside you. Let’s strip them clothes down for me. I don’t need any clothes on let’s just strip them down together. We don’t need them clothes at all, our bodies intertwine together would be enough. I won’t let you wait, let’s take off our clothes. No need for anyone to wear anything tonight. You might keep on that thong when we get passionate and so in love. If you like that babe, that thong can stay. Promise you can have access to every inch of me, darling. Show me devotion when we devote oneself to each other. You know you always get my special treatment.

You keep me so connected to you darling. One touch of me can give you the answers to all your questions. Don’t let anything get in between us 'cause this is what we’ve been waiting for so long. I’m gonna treat you right. Open up your mouth when I put my lips on you. Kiss me deeply while I savor every taste of yours. We can be reckless, restless until the morning. No way it’s too much for me. Wanna make you cry for me. Darling, cry for me. You know you turn me on like no one does. I know you like to show so shine for me. Darling you’re my main character. My absolute no. 1 private dancer. No one gets to finish when both are so stubborn. You know me and I know you. How come I met someone like you? You’re a keeper, a good catch and everything I’m looking for. For you I won’t bottle things up. For you I want to be honest. You deep down know we are made for each other, right? I want to make your heart smile. To have you is like to have the stars. You’re absolutely beautiful and adorable. You shine like the moon at night. You shine on me with empathy and care. I’m never alone with you.

I know you’re rare and precious that’s why I want to love you right. You know by time you should be in my arms right now. I’ll hold you like I can’t let go. I’ll keep you safe and sound. Treat you soft and gently. To love and be with you is like to dance with the stars. Do you want to fly away with me where it’s only us two? My treasure, with you I am me. Call me and say my name so I can make you my baby and show you real love. I’mma show you how to love. It feels like I’m seeing fireworks for the first time when I see you. Your body speaks to me, I can’t hide it. I’ll go down on you and take you places. Turn off the light. Tell me babe how you want it, you decide. Darling get ready 'cause you won’t be disappointed.

Don’t you know that You and I are the infinite symbol that equals forever? Turn it around and forever has the same meaning as you’re the love of my life.

Channeled songs:

• Energy — BURNS, A$AP Rocky & Sabrina Claudio

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𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟔 — 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 & 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬

♥︎ ♥︎

ℒ book the same reading as 'Soul calling' for 4€ from my enchanted door ⊂🍸⊃

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Do you see the temperature increasing? Heart beats faster because you walk in. My ribcage increases and my lips are shaking. This body doesn’t seem like me whenever near you. When you touch my skin lightly, that feeling, no one can do that. No one can compare, I hope you know that. It must be that scent, must be that shoulder and those contacts. Oh am I not the luckiest? No need to say much I think you know. If you want to be pampered, i’ma make it work for you. Lightly tinged the room with the color of love. I want you to hold me tight and don't let me go. Love me right. You make me feel so high. You are only allowed to be like this with me alone. I’m losing myself in this moment with you. No in every moment with you. I will take you all the way to Cali. Maybe you can call me daddy/mommy/yours. Come to me. With me here there’s nothing you have to be worried about. (beep beep beep) do you hear the sound of my temperature rising? (trip trip trip) my hands are tighter again.

Hypocrite I know, I pretend to be indifferent but do you know that under all the masks that I’m wearing to hide my true self, I act wild and crazy for you? I’m freaking out but I like how you make me freak out. I like the feeling how you can make me act out of my usual self. Let’s forget about all our characters and drop all the manners. Just say how you want it sweetheart, I can take you there. Let me show you how my body yearns for you. I want to do this only to you. We can be freaky, kinky and nasty, whatever you like. Foreplay with you, there is really no way around it. One of my utmost favourite things to do might be to fill you up to the brim. You do things to me that I never imagined. I wanna show you how I get down. I’ll kiss every inch of you and run my hands up and down your entire body. Do you want to feel it? I know you want me and so do I. I might as well steal you from you. Get down with me. I just want to steal your heart and sneak an arm around your waist and claim you as mine. You’re my simple pleasure, just like the breeze on my face or the fragrance of flowers. Tell me if i ever cross your mind then I’ll tell you how I want us to be each other’s guilty pleasure everyday. Sweetheart you got the sweetest heart I’ve ever seen or felt before. Keep your lips tight only for me. I know you like to dream so let’s make our dream a beautiful place where we pour out our intimacy for each other and slowly reveal a little bit of our heart’s desire and secrets to each other. I’m totally enamoured by you.

You’re so delicate. I want to love all of you. I want to be your protector. I want to take care of you. My heart longs for a beautiful soul like you. There is telepathy between our hearts. I only want to make you smile and laugh all the time because then I’ll be happy when you’re happy. I want to mold myself into you. I want our souls to be one. I will look you in the eyes and make you feel seen for who you’re meant to be. Like for the first time I will make you feel like everything is alright. I can be that soothing energy you’re looking for. I want to give you all of me. You’re my remedy. I couldn’t ask for more. I feel your energy with me often. My world is being shaken up by you. Do you want me the way I want you? I want to declare my love for you. You know the saying "There will be a day when we meet our own version on someone else" and I think I’ve found me in you. My desire is you and only you. From the bottom of my heart, i want you to know that you are the one i have been waiting for, the missing piece that completes my soul. You know how to make me fall for you just like that. I want to love you for who you are. I will do that because that’s how I love myself and accept my flaws so I can give you the same thing as well. I will learn how to love you wholeheartedly. I’ll understand all of your flaws. Will you let me in? You’re special. If you’re going through some rough patches just know that experiencing things that you don't want makes you clear about what you do want so keep going. I’m here cheering you on.

Channeled songs:

• Honesty — Pink Sweat$

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#crystaldivination #pac #pick a card #pick a card reading #pac reading #tarot community #tarotblr #tarot reading #intuitive readings #free readings #free tarot readings #free intuitive readings #pick a pile #Spotify #SoundCloud

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shotgunbunny · 2 years ago

Note

Anon who asked if you take requests here, i wanted to ask you if you could write a third part to lumberjack!ari because he doesnt want to leave my mind 😩 i read both fics yesterday and ive been thinking about him non-stop. If you want and can could you write a third part where he got his little wife pregnant, her period is late but doesnt wanna get him excited for nothing so she goes by herself in town to buy a pregnancy test. He finds out and goes home mad, ready to punish her but once he gets there and sees the positive pregnancy test all his anger goes away and all he does is kiss her and praise her for being such a good wife who will soon give him a baby

༻𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬༺

WC:3.1k+ GIF by evansensations

{soft!dark!lumberjack!Ari x pregnant!reader}

{Warnings!! Soft!dark!Ari!! Ari being possessive!! Mentions of sex!! Mentions of abortion but like just the word!! Being pregnant!! Morning sickness!!}

Like real people do {part 1}

Eyes always seeking {part 2}

Ari was much softer after that night in the hot tub. From his glaces at you to how he held you. It was as if he was trying to apologize for how rough he could be through his gentle affection. And you were loving every second of it. It was such a change from his usual character. You were used to sharp glares and steeled looks and now when he looked at you, you saw adoration swirl in his blue eyes and a smile on his face. His hands that once held you so firm, now cradled your waist as he burried his face in the crook of your neck to drink your scent in and leave gentle kisses.

You had no idea why he had changed but you couldn't bring yourself to complain as you adored bathing in his love. Everyday after work you would make dinner and he would eat every bite with a peaceful smile on his face. Followed by him asking for dessert which always resulted in you on the kitchen table with your skirt of dress pulled up and Ari feasting on your pussy until you coated his beard with your essence. He devoured you everytime and would ask for a kiss in return. Loving Ari got easier by the day, and he couldn't help but let himself drown in your love.

Ari had changed after that night due to the overwhelming love he had for you. You accepted his gift and thanked him endlessly making his ego sky rocket. He knew that it was a gateway for an attempt to escape yet you never even tried, the thought had never crossed your mind. The fact that you had never even thought about running away from Ari made him soft. You wanted him just as much as he needed you. Being so gentle with you was so simple and easy that he fell into it. He loved holding you so closely and ghosting his lips across your neck. It was as if the final jigsaw piece finally slipped into place and Ari felt complete.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

It had been a month since that night and Ari had made love to you nearly every night whispering sweet nothings to you while he wrapped his arms around you and showered you in his love. Every moment was perfect in the Levinson household now that things had changed and Ari had opened his heart to you fully.

You remember when you were laid across his chest listening to his heart beat, your head rising with his breathing. Your hand was interlaced with his after a night of love making. You stared up at him, mapping out his beauty so that you could forever remember his glory and write about it in a poem one day. He glanced down at you before holding your gaze. He raised an eyebrow at you, and you giggled making his heart beat faster causing you to blush.

"What are you looking at, little love?" He said it so softly yet his chest still rumbled almost like a purr. You kiss his chin and he hummed producing the purring noise again. "You. You're so pretty Ari. Thank you for giving me your heart." His ears turned red and he smiled so gently. He brought your joined hands up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles and brought them back to lay on the bed. "Pretty? I've never been called pretty, but I'm glad you find me so appealing little wifey," a beat passed and his arms tightened around your waist. "Thank you for giving me your heart first little wifey. It's my most treasured item."

You blushed and giggled, everything he said was like poetry and it made butterflies errupt in your stomach. "I promise to protect your heart forever my handsome husband." Ari grunted, his eyebrows knitting together causing him to frown. Your heart sped up and you couldn't help but fear you had said something wrong when he suddenly kissed your forehead. You looked up at him and spoke it a hushed voice almost as if telling you a secret. "You shouldn't protect my heart, my love. That's my job. I'll defend every bone in your body, I'll protect your heart and soul, and I'll always keep you safe." And just like that you fell further in love with him.

You cherished that memory so dearly, yet the next morning wasn't as romantic. You awoke feeling so ill and ran to the toilet, you were as quiet as possible as you left the bed yet Ari immediately felt you leave and his heart raced. He heard the sound of you heaving in the toilet and quicky approached. He stared, worry swirling in his iris's as he saw you with your head in the toilet bowl. He walked over slowly and caressed your back, before gathering your hair out of your face.

When you were done, you groaned and felt Ari's hands leave you before you registered him returning with a glass of water and some medicine, you smiled up at him and thanked him.

That should have been your first sign but you assumed it was the new takeout that Ari had brought you last night, and he assumed so too. When you threw up the next morning Ari remained asleep. And it kept continuing, you'd get up and be sick while Ari slept peacefully. You hated it so much, throwing up nearly every morning was causing your mood to change to fast that Ari didn't know what to do. He assumed that it was your period yet didn't mention it as he was scared of offending you or upsetting you.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

You had woken up to empty you stomach again, early in the morning. You flushed it away and brushed your teeth, trying to think of what could be wrong with you. You spat out the remnants and rinsed your mouth with water before heading back to bed. You cuddled up to the sleeping bed, needing his heat after running out of it and into the cold. You decided to keep your ill episodes secret, you didn't want Ari to change how he was with you. Logically you knew he would take care of you and make sure you were okay, but the otherside feared he saw you as a sick wife he didn't want.

You sighed and stroked a lock of his hair out of his face before heading to sleep too. You were awoken an hour later by Ari's soft lips pressing on your forehead and a whisper of 'I love you.' before he headed off to work. You hummed and cuddled closer to Ari's side, breathing his scent in. You relaxed and fell back to sleep, dreaming of Ari and him building a treehouse.

You slowly awoke again, much later in the morning and yawned. You reflected on your dream and smiled, Ari as a dad would be so perfect. One day you'd have your own but for now you were happy hogging all of his attention. You knitted your brows together. Thinking of pregnancy sent your mind racing until it lingered on the big question: When was the last time you had your period? You gulped. It must be late.

Yet the more you thought about it the more things made sense. Your increases sex drive which Ari was thriving off. The sickness you were enduring every morning. Even how your eating habits had changed. Your heart raced. You needed to settle your mind, with a determined huff you dragged yourself out of bed and remade your bed. You decided you needed to go to town and get a pregnancy test.

You put panties and sighed remembering how they felt. You hadn't worn any in such a long time because Ari often claimed he wanted easy access to his wife. You chose to wear a simple dress and glanced outside. It was sunny, so you'd skip the jacket. You smiled, you hadn't been to town in such a long time. You decided to do a bit of glam, and decided to do a cute look so that you didn't look overdone, but you definitely looked pretty. You grabbed your bag and stuffed your phone and purse in, before heading down the stairs.

You slid your shoes, you hadn't worn them in a while either. Ari hadn't let you leave the house, but why would you want to leave, everything was so beautiful here. And Ari had made so much of the furniture that you often marvelled at it. You grabbed the pair of keys that dangled on the side and headed out and locked the door. You decided to call an Uber to get into town. You smiled, maybe you'd go and see friends. You shut that thought down quickly remembering how Ari had told you what they were really like. You were so grateful for a man like him, he took such good care of you.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you saw your Uber pull up. You checked that the door was locked and headed into town.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

Ari wiped the sweat from his brows after delivering another blow to the tree he was currently chopping down. He felt his phone buzz and he groaned before he pulled it out. He saw a text from his friend Richard, his heart started racing. Richard had agreed to help keep an eye on you, especially if you decided to wander.Suddenly all the heat he was feeling from the sun and his work disappeared, as he felt ice settle into his blood. There on his phone was a crisp picture of you in town.

His jaw tightened and his eyes fired up with rage. How could he be so stupid as to let his guard down. Ofcourse you'd wander, you're so curious about the world. He'd chain you down when he got you home. That was for certain, he'd teach you a lesson on trying to leave him. He dislodged his axe from the tree and threw it at the ground in a fit of rage before he stormed off to his truck and yanked the door open. He got it and slammed the door shut before speeding off home.

He'd wait for you at home, so you could do your walk of shame and give your shitty excuse as to why you'd even dare leave the sanctuary he had created for you. He parked his truck before unlocking the door. He practically kicked it open and closed. He stomped to the living room and sat brooding allowing dark cloud to linger over him and rain dark thoughts into his mind. He crossed his arms across his chest and he let out an angered huff. He'd wait for you.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

You were browsing the aisles with a shy look on your face. You kept your eyes down until you reached the feminine health section. You looked around and strolled past the pads and tampons, you swallowed. What if it was just a late period and you were over reacting? You sighed it was better to be absolutely certain rather than letting your mind torment you. You looked at the variety of tests. There were so many options. Your eyes glanced until you saw the named brands and you decided to grab 2 to be absolutely sure.

You headed to the self checkout with the clutched in your fist and scanned them both before pulling out your cash. You never remember having cash in your purse, maybe Ari put it in there. Your heart fluttered at his selflessness. He was such a good husband. Although you haven't had a proper ceremony yet, he did manage to get you both married with the forms. You cried tears of joy that day, you were officially Mrs. Levinson. But you couldn't help but ache for a beautiful church ceremony, and Ari had promised that soon he would grant your wish.

You put the tests in your bag as well as the receipt before heading out and ordering and Uber back home again. Your heart was speeding up at the possibilities and soon your hands began to shake both out of fear and excitement. Your Uber pulled up shortly and you began your journey back after a short trip into town. No one had really noticed you or cared.

And that was all thanks to Ari and his subtle threats at town meetings. How he had staked his claim on you in front of all the folks. How he had waved your certificate of marriage in all their faces and then told them if they wanted to keep their houses warm and their buildings etc. Then they'd obey his rules when it came to you. Ofcourse you were oblivious to him manipulating the whole town, and believed his every word when he claimed that they didn't care about you except him.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

You got out of the Uber and immediately noted Ari's truck parked outside. You were trembling, did he know? You had no other option but to bite the bullet. You sucked a breath in and slowly headed towards the door and opened it. You slid your shoes off and hung the spare key up. You turned around and jumped at the enraged look in Ari's eyes. Your eyes immediately filled with tears and before he could even utter anything mean out you babbled out, "I'm sorry! I don't know! But if I am we- we can have an abortion or something!"

Ari stopped functioning. His eyes went blank and his mouth went agape. He stared at you and your timid stance. Your eyes filled with tears and your bottom lip wobbling. You stared at him begging, pleading for any sign from him. Yet he was too busy in a loop of thoughts.

'Abortion.' That's all that echoed in his head. They are linked with pregnancies. And that would mean that you're pregnant. But that's impossible because you had your period. However Ari had been presumptions about it and when he thought you were, you had sex and there was no blood. Over and over his thoughts looped. His mind flashing with possibilities when he heard you voice sad and soft breaking him out of the inner discussion in his brain.

"I-I don't know if I am. I don't wanna get our hopes up." Ari immediately bundled you in his arms keeping you close. You weren't leaving him. You were potentially having his child. He felt his heart grow ten sizes, he pulled away and looked down, a stern look still planted on his face. "Why were you in town?" You gulped and reached into the bag pulling out the two pregnancy tests. Ari's eyes widened. His heart started racing suddenly coming to terms with the fact that he could potentially have gotten you pregnant. He might be a dad.

He gulped and looked down at you, "Have you taken them yet?" His voice was a whisper and you glared up at him. He was just too happy over what might be happening to realise how silly his question is. "They're still in the box. So no I haven't." You snapped at him. Ari felt more puzzle pieces connect. Your change of mood, the strange food you started eating. He stared down at you. "What are you waiting for? Take them."

You both ran upstairs, you went into the bathroom and Ari stood outside pacing, stroking his beard feeling every second drag on way longer than it should have. You came out and looked at him. "It takes about 2 minutes. I've left them on the side." Ari drew his eyebrows together before he headed towards you and gathered you in his arms. "Listen baby, all the sign point towards yes. But don't worry too much about my reaction okay. I'm happy if you're pregnant or not. All that matters is that you are okay and healthy." You stared up at him and nuzzled into his chest.

You felt safe, you felt loved. You both stood there embracing the moment not knowing what to do or how to act. You just simply stayed in each others arms where you knew it was safe and loving. Where nothing bad could attack, and nothing cruel could hurt you. In that moment you were just Mr and Mrs Levinson. And that's all that mattered.

When you pulled away, it had been way over 2 minutes. Ari looked down at you. You half smiled before heading into the bathroom and letting out a sigh. You looked down at both tests and tears gathered in your eyes. Ari felt his heart race at your watery eyes. You turned to him with a massive grin on your face holding both the tests. "I'm pregnant!" Ari had never moved so fast. He scooped you up in his arms.

He felt tears gather in his eyes. You were pregnant with his child. He was going to be a dad. He finally had a family. "You're pregnant baby!" You giggled wiping your tears and wrapping your arms around his shoulders hugging him tightly. He pulled back and placed his forehead against yours. "We're going to have a baby!" He whispered it so excitedly that you giggled. He put you down gently and you stared up at him seeing nothing but love reflecting in his eyes.

"We're gonna have a baby! You're gonna be a daddy!" Ari immediately began to smother you in kisses, making sure to kiss away all those tears. His anger from earlier melted in seconds, he was glad you went out. He pressed a kiss to your lips. Pulling away and swiping hair behind your ears, "You make so me so fuckin' proud mama. You're gonna have my kid! You're so fuckin' amazing!" You both smiled and laughed.

Ari looked down at you, his eyes returning to concern, "You haven't had morning sickness though?" You looked down shyly before gently saying, "I have. Every morning about an hour before you start work it happens. And I can't wake you because you look so peaceful when you sleep." You pouted. Ari immediately tilted your chin upwards, he stared down at you sternly, "Listen here wifey, I don't care how peaceful I look. You wake me up, you let me help you. It's my job baby. I need to take care of you. Got it?" You nodded and kissed him.

He smiled and his features softened up, upon feeling your lips against his. He was so happy in this moment, he couldn't stop kissing you and holding you. He admired every part of you. Feeling nothing but love fill his bones and his blood. You both stared at each other, drowning in adoration when Ari spoke again, his voice was a murmur and all you could hear was a rumble due to your head on his chest. "You're so perfect wifey, you're giving me a child! God I'm gonna keep you pregnant forever baby, that's a promise."

#chris evans #ari levinson x reader #ari levison x reader #chris evans x reader #dark ari levinson x reader #ari levinson #dark ari levinson #ari levinson x woc #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x innocent!reader #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson angst #ari levinson dark #ari levinson x black!reader #ari levinson x plus size reader #ari levinson x f!reader #ari levinson au #ari levinson fluff

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year ago

Text

If Given the Chance… (1)

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader | SteveRogers x Female!Reader (ugh I don’t know it’s messy)

summary: After an accident on a mission, Bucky and Steve find themselves in the body of the other and both soon begin to act like it too. But while Bucky tries to fix the problem, Steve takes his opportunity to taste his deepest desires, falling into a role he’d never thought he’d get to play: your boyfriend.

a/n: remember this ask? yeah... it took a completely different turn

word count: 3.4k

warnings: a confused and hopeless Stevie, pining, agony, angst, betrayal, fluff, a little heated, this borders dub-con but then again not really, still - !MINORS DNI!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

(please excuse my horrid Photoshop skills, but no GIF combination could match my vision...)

Change. What was it really? Bucky never thought people truly changed. That deep in their hearts they’d always be the same. And yet, he felt as though he had been part of three different personas so far. He’d always wondered what it must be like to just switch bodies with someone. To represent something different - a contrast to what the body was used to.

He didn’t need to wonder anymore. Because he’d experienced it. The person he had been before Hydra was not the same as the winter soldier. And neither was the person he was today - different from both of his prior states. And even though he had lived through it, change, he was here, wondering what it must be like.

He’d read a poem once. A sad, hopeless one. But at the end, it said to read it again - from the bottom up, and its meaning shifted entirely. Transformed from a depressing mood into an optimistic one. Changed, just like that.

So, Bucky wasn’t quite sure whether he had experienced that kind of change before. He’d changed looks, and people told him his heart had not shifted one bit. He’d changed occupations, and he’d not felt as though his values had stayed the same. He had contradicted everything he’d ever imagined change to be. Even though he never really knew what it was.

But now? Now he had proper change. A good one? He wasn’t sure. Not terrible, that was for certain. But definitely one he needed to reverse.

Steve’s eyes stared back at him through the shiny surface of the window. Confusion etched in his brow he’d never seen on his best friend before. The blonde hair disheveled, eyes more exhausted-looking than they usually did, he pushed a deep breath out of his lunges.

What a mess.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good. What about you?”

“I’m okay, I’m just-“

“What? What is it?”

“You.”

“Huh?”

“I’m... you.”

What a fucking mess.

So Steve was Bucky and Bucky was Steve. But at the same time, they were still themselves, just somehow stuck in the other’s body. It had been four hours since the incident and Bucky was still panicking. He felt the responsibility for the “team” weighing his body down - the body that wasn’t his, but most definitely the reason for his distress. They were about to arrive in the next thirty minutes and no one at the compound knew what had happened. No one. Not Tony, not Bruce, not you.

Oh god, you didn’t know your boyfriend was trapped in his best friend’s body. Bucky didn’t even know how he would start to explain it. You were very understanding and patient, but Bucky feared that this might introduce a new sphere of problems neither of you had encountered before.

The two friends hadn’t talked about it. Steve and Bucky both knew it was a problem that needed solving, but Steve had been awfully quiet ever since they boarded the Quinjet home. It certainly didn’t help Bucky relax. At least it was late in the night. The chances of encountering another Avenger when they would get back were small and left him a few hours of dealing with it all - maybe sleep it off.

Who was he kidding?

Bucky wouldn’t be sleeping. He would stay up, wait until it was a reasonable enough hour to drag Bruce to his lab and get him started on fixing the problem not even he knew the actual cause of.

Running, hiding, finding a weird machine, toppling over a storage rack, and the accidental push of a button. An explosion, heat, but no pain - just utter confusion.

Bucky shook his head as he took a seat beside Steve in the cockpit. Not even he would believe himself if he were told this story...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve hadn’t planned for this to happen. He just wanted to explain things to you, tell you what had occurred on the mission - even though he didn’t quite know himself - and then find Bucky. For a second, he had even forgotten. He had forgotten that, in a way, he was Bucky. And that you wouldn’t know until he told you that he was Steve. Steve, your boyfriend’s best friend who had been in love with you from the day he met you.

Yeah... that was an issue. Bucky didn’t know and neither did you. God behold, Steve got in the way of his oldest friend’s happiness. He would never do that. Especially not when that friend had suffered for so long. So, Steve had just kept to himself, watching as Bucky was the one holding you during movie nights, sleeping in your bed, and kissing you goodbye.

It hurt. But Steve had gotten used to the familiar sting in his chest whenever he witnessed his best friend’s hands on you or when your adoring smile was sent his way. He swallowed the pain like it was nothing, and it got easier every time. He still needed to remind himself though: You can’t, Steve. You don’t want to, Steve.

But now... now might have been the only opportunity to get away with it. No. He would never. He couldn’t.

“Bucky!” Your door opened and Steve felt your hands around his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips. Wow.

Steve’s body was on fire. The stinging he usually felt in his chest now spreading through his entire body, creating goosebumps on his skin. It felt so different, so good.

Overwhelmed by the feeling, he stumbled forward, guiding you back by your hips and shutting the door with his foot.

Endless nights imagining what your pillowy lips would feel like on his seemed silly now that he tasted you. His mind had never even come close. You were so much softer, so much warmer... so much more rewarding than anything his imagination could cook up.

Steve was addicted now, there was no going back. You were like a drug that tied him to your supply forever.

His hands began to roam your body, moving your hair, smelling your scent, feeling every bump and curve of your body as he got lost in your embrace. It was too easy to forget it wasn’t him you were kissing. Steve was just as tall as your Boyfriend, he was just as strong - every movement, every look - it felt the same.

Hungrily, Steve’s wet kisses wandered down your neck until he reached the spot that drew a grasp from your lips and it made his pants feel tighter.

“What’s this about,” you chuckled as your palm gently pressed against his chest. Steve reluctantly loosened his grip around you just to see that shining smile of yours beaming up at him. Holy shit. This must be what heaven feels like.

“I just missed you-” his answer got swallowed in the crook of your neck again, Steve’s cheek settling to your skin when he mumbled the last part beneath your ear. “...a lot.”

You didn’t even know how much. And as you chuckled and ran your hands down his back, Steve wondered if he could even call it missing when he never really had you in the first place. But then you kissed his shoulder and Steve decided that he didn’t care. Your lips just felt a little too good not to miss in any circumstance - whatever it meant now - and he had lost you to his best friend somehow, so he was allowed to miss.

“Missed you too.” Steve smiled and began to pick up his kissing when he felt your lips press to his shoulder a second time.

It was strange how natural this interaction felt for Steve. He didn't know if that was because he had imagined it a hundred times, dreamt about you more nights than he liked to admit - each time waking with an ache in more places than one and the added incapability to stop it. Steve had not had a girlfriend since he met you. He tried a few hookups, each one with the picture of you in his head, the actual person beneath him serving merely the purpose of physical touch, but it wasn’t enough. Especially now that he knew what it could feel like - kissing you alone - nothing could ever compare.

Lost in his thoughts, his hands wandered down your body, squeezing parts of you he’d only ever imagined touching, and every breathy moan he pulled from you became a tiny celebration in his mind.

Your hands held on tight to his neck when his knee found its way between your legs, your head falling back, giving him just that much more ground to place his soft attacks. He growled against your skin when your sounds grew high pitched, unbelievable gratification consuming his body - driving him further.

This was perfect, this was all he ever wanted this- “Ah, Bucky!” This was wrong.

And Steve was reminded of what he was doing right now. His hands retracted immediately, but you clung to his neck like glue. “Please,” you whimpered and his head fell back into you like an instinct, the urge to bring you pleasure too strong to stop his movements entirely.

But, fuck, he was an awful person.

With trembling hands and a stinging in his chest, he stepped back from you. Your eyes stared at him in confusion, desperate for anything - pleasure, closure. And Steve wanted to give it all to you. But he wasn’t allowed to. He was Steve - your boyfriend’s best friend. A terrible one, too.

“I’m... I’m so sorry,” he stuttered through the glossy shimmer forming in his eyes.

“What?” Shit. Steve turned before you could see the first tear fall from his eyes. He couldn’t bear seeing your face any longer - that beautiful, innocent face with so much irritation and sadness poisoning its features. You didn't deserve this, you didn’t deserve to be pulled into this mess by him. It was wrong, so fucking wrong.

Steve sped towards the lab immediately, barely missing Bucky on his way out of the glass doors. But Bucky merely sent a nod his way, leaving Bruce to greet him with an exhausted smile.

“You need to do something. Now.”

❁ ❁ ❁

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey.”

Bucky turned around to see you standing in the doorway, a big smile instantly settling on his face. You looked beautiful, he thought every time he saw you - especially after a mission that lasted for several days in which he did not get to see you.

His fingers itched to reach out to you, pull you into him and just kiss your pretty face, but once he caught his left arm lifting, and missing the sleek black gleam he was so used to, Bucky was reminded that he needed to behave differently now.

He hadn’t told you about the accident yet. Bruce seemed to know what he was doing, so Bucky was just hopeful the issue would be resolved soon. Until then, he needed to cope with the constant panic surging through him at his and Steve’s states.

The desk chair squeaked when he tuned to you, watching as you roamed about Steve’s office and eyed the sketch he had framed on the cupboard. That’s when he noticed your posture - how your shoulders were slightly hunched, your head a little lower than usual, and a faint frown hiding behind the hairs falling into your face.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He stood up wanting to approach you but remembering his place again. Now he was just standing there, helpless and unsure of what to do as he watched you toy with the edges of the notebook laying in front of you.

You sighed. “Bucky is being weird... I hope he’s okay but he wouldn’t talk to me.” You glanced at him shortly and the corners of your mouth jerked downward. “I thought maybe... I don’t know, maybe you know what’s going on.” You stared at him hopefully. “Did something happen on the mission?”

I’m right here, baby. And I would be so much better if I could tell you.

Bucky willed his thoughts silent, finally stepping forward and placing his hand on your shoulder.

“It was a long mission, give him some time to rest...” God, he hated lying to you. But it was for the best. He didn’t want you to worry any more than you already did, as much as it hurt to see you this clueless.

Bucky could only imagine how exhausting this whole ordeal was for Steve. He was going through the same thing, but Steve had to juggle you - or as it seemed, ignore you - on top of it. The friends still hadn’t talked about what to do. There had just seemed to be a common understanding settled between them, and that was to keep as many people out of this as possible.

Still, Bucky wondered how his best friend was doing. This was an unusual situation, and he cared for him just as much as he did for you.

“Maybe you’re right.” You turned to him with a saddened face. “But I can’t help but feel like there is something else bothering him. I just want him to be okay...”

“We both do, doll.” Bucky couldn’t help it, he pulled you into his chest by your wrist - hoping it would be less intimate than by your waist like he always did - and tugged your head beneath his chin.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding once your body molded against his, the familiar feeling of content mixing with the underlying tension he had been plagued with since the mission. That was what he had needed. To feel you again, touch you, have your arms hug him to your body, and be entranced by your perfume again.

It was hard not to kiss your hair, or inhale your shampoo too obviously when he held you like this. It was what he always did when he was Bucky - but now he was Steve. And Bucky never imagined he could hate being Steve so much.

He shook the thought immediately, focusing on you and squeezing you tight one more time before he let you go. He missed your touch the second you retracted your arms, sending a weak smile up to him. Oh, how he’d love to kiss that frown away, to touch you until he heard that beautiful laugh of yours again. But he couldn’t do it, he was not allowed to - he was Steve.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Anytime.” He smiled reluctantly as he watched you leave with mixed feelings.

Bucky didn’t know how much longer he could endure this.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Thank fucking God!” Bucky exclaimed as he padded down his body - his own body.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks of constant worry and agony, lonely nights, and the pressure of keeping this ridiculous secret. But Bruce had finally done it. Bucky didn’t know how - and it wasn’t super important to him either - but he was glad he finally had his own body back.

“You did it!” Steve stated with mild enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure if it made any difference anymore. He didn’t hate himself less for what had happened. But at least, now, he didn’t need to worry about making the mistake again.

Bruce just responded with a proud shrug, a blush almost forming on his cheeks before his smile fell again.

That’s when you entered the lab with a pile of manila folders in your hand.

“What’s going on in here?” You asked, excited to experience a light atmosphere in a room both Steve and Bucky were in. It had been different for a couple weeks now, and Bucky was still acting weird, but something told you, he was getting better. Well, maybe the laugh you had heard from the hallways had, but now he was just staring at you as Bruce did.

“What? Am I interrupting something? I just wanted to give you these files, Banner, I-” you trailed off when your eyes wandered from the men to the desk you had halted next to, a wild array of papers and opened digital files littering the work area as you placed your addition there as well.

You had always been a fast reader - a talent that came in handy more times than one would think - so your eyes scanned the documents in haste, collecting keywords and notes until they landed on a particularly concise one: Possible body switch triggers. What the hell? Super Soldiers. Consciousness. Machine. Serum. Third vessel for transfer. What the hell what the hell what the hell?!

You looked up, willing the confusion to the back of your mind as you pierced Bruce with a cold stare. “A body switch project? Really, Bruce? It’s not like we’re already down one person since Peter decided to test out his new jet-pack prototype.”

Bruce didn’t say anything. Instead, Bucky stepped forward with a reasoning tone. “Baby-“

“And you.” Your finger pointed at him. “I thought you were smarter. First, you’re acting all weird, and now you’re calling me ‘baby’ again,” you stated plainly, crossing your arms. Steve swallowed thickly, watching the interaction between you and Bucky play out with his lip between his teeth. “What- is this why you were behaving so weird? Are you in on this? Are you seriously participating as a lab rat?”

“I... we...” Bucky frantically searched the room for his teammates’ support, trailing off when everyone avoided his eyes. Traitors.

“Who is switching bodies? And why couldn’t you tell me?” The room had gotten silent, but you weren’t about to back down. You wanted answers, especially when the people you cared about did stupid things that risked their lives more than their job already did. You scanned each of them carefully, assessing which one was to break first under your solid stare. Steve was wringing his hands, his eyes trained on the ground - nervous, maybe, scared.

Bruce was sweating bullets. He hated being in fussy situations, always tense to keep the big guy down. He would speak first - de-escalation was his second nature… well, apart from the escalating one.

Bucky had his jaw wired shut, a frequent side eye assessing the state of his fellow coworkers carefully. Nobody wanted to break it to you. Especially since they had hidden the switch from you for two weeks. You weren’t big on betrayal and everyone knew it.

“They-“ Bruce started but was shut up by Bucky’s death stare quickly. How dare he do him so dirty?

“You were saying?” You zeroed in on the scientist, a hopeful yet clueless look on your face, but Bruce was too scared of Bucky to continue. He hated lying to you, everyone did.

But you wouldn’t budge, staring him down, challenging him to break the silence. What was so bad about something that hadn’t even happened yet?

But then a deep voice sounded from the other corner of the room. “Bucky and I did.” Less steady than usual and still avoiding your eyes, Steve let his hands fall to his sides. “On accident...”

And Bucky sighed, half relieved, half angry at his friend.

“What? When?”

“On the last mission,” Bruce chimed in, just to earn another stink eye from Bucky.

“The last mission two weeks ago? Two Weeks?!”

“I wanted to tell you, okay? But we thought it was best if we kept it a secret... for everyone’s sake.” The brunette super soldier stepped forward, his hands showing surrender when he moved into your personal space.

“And you didn’t think to include me? Your girlfriend?” You looked at him appalled. Why the hell did he not say anything? Would you have ever known had you not walked in on-

“I'm sorry.” Your breath hitched when Bucky pulled you into his arms, placing a firm kiss on your head before burying his face in your neck again.

Because that was when you realized - when you remembered - the last time it had happened.

Steve finally dared to look up at the couple in front of him only to find you staring at him over his best friend’s shoulder.

You knew.

Steve could see it in your eyes - that look you were giving him made him shudder. There was slight confusion in your stare, a little sadness, too. You knew, but Steve knew you wouldn’t lose a word over it.

He tore his longing stare from you and looked down bashfully, ticking his jaw before he could say or do anything stupid. That’s when he felt the sorrow covering his senses again, the hurtful pull on his heart that he had become so used to at the sight of you in Bucky’s arms.

He’s had you once, got to taste you once - and it was one time too many, he reminded himself.

And even though it hurt, he found comfort in the familiarity the feeling held.

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burningcheese-merchant · 3 months ago

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BurningCheese Ficlet for y'all

I'm planning to take a break from AO3 for a little while, because I wrote 4 fics in 4 days and my head hurts. (I don't usually write anything this fast, but when I'm truly inspired, I'm a man on a fucking mission lol)

Here's a relatively short fic for you guys to enjoy while I'm gone. It's wholesome (for once). Hope whoever reads it enjoys it, whether they like this ship or not

Post-canon (technically), Burning Spice is no longer a threat to anyone, he's just an asshole who's down bad

"Hm? Golden Cheese eyed the envelope being handed to her critically. "And this is...?"

"For you," Burning Spice said. "It is a romantic holiday today, is it not? Is this not what couples do for one another in celebration?" "I don't recall us ever being a couple, Mr. Burning Spice," Golden Cheese muttered, crossing her arms and giving him a look. "So I'm not sure what possesses you to want to celebrate a day not meant for either of us." "You possess me, my little thief. That is all the motivation I need." He returned her look of annoyance with a look of cool confidence, giving her a flirtatious smile. "Regardless, why do you shun a heartfelt gift? Are gestures of admiration such as these not what you like to receive from others?"

"They are," Golden Cheese said, "But I can't imagine whatever you've brought to me being 'heartfelt'. In fact, I didn't realize that word even existed within your vocabulary before today." He chuckled at her little jab, much to her own furthered annoyance. "You wound me, pretty bird. Why do you judge me for my appearance? Why don't you read this and see for yourself what I am capable of?" "It's hardly your appearance. I've encountered far more brutish beings than you who turned out to be bigger sweethearts than Pure Vanilla." She sighed. "But... fine, very well. If you went to this trouble, I suppose I can entertain it this once." "Yes... please do, my little thief." His smile grew bigger. "Entertain me."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but otherwise did nothing to challenge him further and took the envelope into her hands. It was surprisingly fancy; adorned with intricate little patterns that she recognized to be commonplace in Wild Spice artistry. When she opened it, the smell of spice reached her nose, causing her to sneeze. Burning Spice chuckled again, and she shot him a disapproving glare. He gave her a look of endearment, his eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief. He did not speak, but he did not need to; she knew exactly what he meant by that face, for he'd given it to her before, along with the words meant to describe it. You're so adorable when you sneeze.

Not wanting to encourage this sentiment any further, she turned her attention back to the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. A pale reddish-orange, scented with nutmeg and tumeric. The words were written with black ink - in quite good handwriting, much to her surprise. A very quick skim told her it was a poem. She brought her eyes back to the very top and started again, reading it diligently, word for word:

"You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn, Your sweetness in the nightingale, your whiteness in the swan. You haunt my waking like a dream, my slumber like a moon, Pervade me like a musky scent, possess me like a tune. Yet, when I crave of you, my sweet, one tender moment's grace, You cry, 'I sit behind the veil, I cannot show my face'. Shall any foolish veil divide my longing from my bliss? Shall any fragile curtain hide your beauty from my kiss? What is this war of thee and me? Give o'er the wanton strife. You are the heart within my heart, the life within my life."

Golden Cheese's mouth hung slightly agape by the time she finished, her face hot and cheeks flushed so red that she was certain it could be seen even all the way back home. "Burning Spice," she began. "I..." "You...?" he asked back, clearly enjoying the look on her face far too much. She stood silent for a moment longer before she collected herself. "It's... this is lovely," she said. "I don't know what to say. I... I truly did not think you were ever capable of something like this." "That's alright, pretty bird. Your eyes say enough." Oh, if only that blasted smile of his would fall away already. It was making her feel even stranger. "You and your people aren't the only ones with silver tongues in your mouths."

She hadn't been insulting the Wild Spices earlier, she had been insulting him - but even so, she had no choice but to admit her folly. "Fair enough," she said. "I was wrong to judge you so harshly. If I may gift you with something in return, it's with me saying that this would fit in among the works of my own kingdom's finest poets." "Would it, now? Such high praise, coming from you," Burning Spice purred. "But I'm afraid I'd rather you gift me with something else." "Oh?" She tilted her head at him. "And what would that be?" He answered her by coming closer, closer, until they stood toe to toe and his face was not so far from hers anymore. "I think you know," he said. He cupped her chin. "Or shall you let a veil divide us any longer?"

At this, Golden Cheese said nothing. She only let him tilt her head up gently, and her eyes flutter shut, as he leaned down and captured her lips with his own. Burning Spice kissed her sweetly, tenderly - so unlike what she expected of him, such a feeling and taste she never thought she'd find within spice like his. He licked at her lips, soft but still forceful enough to be noticed, politely asking for entry - and she obliged him, parting her lips and sighing into their kiss as his tongue slipped into her mouth and caressed her own. She felt a hand touch hers, rough fingers ghost against her skin, and she obliged him again, taking his hand into her own and lacing their fingers together. When they parted, he lingered there for a little while longer, their now half-lidded eyes locked and foreheads touching. The fire that always burned so bright in his eyes was now brought down to a smolder, reminding her more of the warmth of a fireplace than a scorching inferno. She could still feel his breath, taste it: hot and spicy, a shock to her senses. But... it wasn't so bad. It wasn't bad at all, actually. ...But he didn't need to know that. She'd fed his ego enough for one day.

"My little golden thief," he purred. "I thank you. Your gift is as lovely as mine." "...You're welcome," she murmured. "But... don't expect any more like it." "I won't," he said, that familiar sharp-toothed smile creeping back across his face, "Just the same as you expected me to give you something crude and mediocre." Her eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up in surprise, both at his words and the little jab hidden behind them. She opened her mouth to retort - but he cut her off before she could by kissing her again. Lightning fast, but still hot and rough, stealing the breath from her lungs. When he pulled back, that godforsaken grin came back in full force, stretching from ear to ear. "See?" he asked playfully. She chose not to respond this time, instead only huffing at him. Such audacity need not be dignified in such a manner. (And it wasn't because she had no real rebuttal to give him. Really. Honest.)

He gave her hand a squeeze before letting it go and stepping back again, giving her back her personal space. "Well, then," he said. "I shall give you one last gift by allowing you to enjoy the rest of this day on your own terms." "How kind of you, Burning Spice," Golden Cheese said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Once again, you surprise me with your words and actions." "Golden Cheese..." He turned his back and peeked at her from over his shoulder, his eyes burning bright once again. "I intend to keep surprising you as many times as you'll allow." With that said, he turned and began walking away. She watched him leave with her arms crossed, staring daggers at the back of his head as he left. Finally, she was free. No more of his nonsense; she can bask in light and peace again.

And yet, his parting words still rang in her ears. "I intend to keep surprising you as many times as you'll allow." Just where did he get this brazenness from? Wherever he cultivated it, she wanted the earth salted and burned. After everything that's happened, after her granting him a goddess's mercy by allowing him to continue existing in her life after all was said and done, and he repays her with this never-ending foolishness? Well, she could commend his stubbornness, if nothing else. But this time was a step too far. This was the first Valentine's Day gift she's ever received from him, and it shall be the last. Next time, she will turn him away without remorse. Won't she?

She turned her eyes back to the paper in her hand. To the beautiful envelope that had housed it. To the poem inscribed on the page, that serenaded her without making a single sound. Golden Cheese, against her own better judgment, brought the poem back closer to her face and read it a second time. When she finished, she tucked it back into the envelope - carefully, so it wouldn't tear. And then she sighed. ...No. No, she won't.

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

The poem here is "Humayun to Zobeida" from the poetry collection "The Golden Threshold" (bet you know why I chose a poem from there lol), all written by Indian poet Sarojini Naidu. Please check it out if/when you can, her works are lovely and you can read them for free online (also a lot of the poems give me BurningCheese feels, especially "To the God of Pain")

Y'all let me know if you enjoyed this, I thought of a sequel and I'll write and post it if you want

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #golden cheese cookie #burning spice cookie #burningcheese #goldenspice #merchant shorts

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mrs-gauche · 7 months ago

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Let's talk (some more) about the Red Lyrium Idol

So, if there's anyone who actually read all of this and is for some reason still interested in even more ramblings, here is Part 2 of my way too long tinfoil theory/summary post about the red lyrium idol, and I swear, it's the last one. 😂 Again, I just needed to get this out before we might get the first real trailer TOMORROW and I'm proven completely wrong, because that's just so funny to me. lol

(Note: This post was written before the title of DA4 was changed into "The Veilguard", so the implications of this title for the narrative were not taken into account for any of this. 💀)

The Phylactery Theory

"A phylactery is a vessel, often a glass vial, containing the essence of a magical being. The Circle of Magi and the Chantry use small phylacteries filled with blood, to track down mages that turn apostate."

"Phylacteries, ironically, are a form of blood magic. When a templar wishes to track down a fugitive mage they will use the phylactery as a way of homing in on the fugitive by way of a "hot and cold" situation, i.e., the phylactery glows, becoming brighter the closer it gets to its respective mage."

In Tevinter Nights, the Carta assassin described the idol to feel rather heavy, like there was "liquid inside". In the 2018 teaser, we see glowing cracks creeping up the idol's surface.

Inquisitor: "You don't need to sacrifice a slave's life to make a dagger." Solas: "I suppose it depends upon the dagger."

(- Solas when talking about blood magic)

In DAO, the Arcane Warrior specialization can be unlocked while doing the "Nature of the Beast" quest line, in the Lower Ruins of the Brecilian Ruins, south the Elven Burial Chamber. Inside a small chamber which looks like a ruined library, there is a broken stone altar. A phylactery is hidden in the far corner of the room. When you touch the phylactery you experience the memories of an elven arcane warrior who has remained trapped inside of the phylactery for centuries. It offers to teach you the secrets of the arcane warriors in exchange for setting its spirit free by placing the phylactery on an ancient altar.

In the "The Hunt of the Fell Wolf" poem in JOH, there is an idol that seems to possess a spirit that is connected to a demon wolf in a way that he can only be defeated if both him and the idol/spirit are destroyed and struck down at the same time.

As demon-stone was shattered, Ameridan struck true: Beast and spirit—both felled at once, Though neither hunter knew.

The Black Vials are six small glass phylacteries that can be found around Ferelden. When the Warden takes a vial, the glass fractures and releases a hostile revenant. A revenant is a form of undead that is created when a powerful demon, usually that of desire or pride, possesses a corpse. Upon their death, each revenant drops a scrap of vellum/codex entry that reads:

"Bound by your true name, no mortal hand shall reach you."

In the Tevinter Nights story "Genitivi Dies at the End", Rasaan and the Qunari were searching for Solas' "true name".

In the final chamber of the Solasan temple, there's an ancient inscription that reads:

Faintly carved into the stone is a figure bound in chains. Two other figures have turned their gaze from the central image. "Pride in our accomplishments and in our hearts. That same pride became (a word meaning corrupted or altered) within him, he sought to claim (indecipherable), cast from favor and so he was bound." "Hidden from mortal eyes, death lies within."

A codex about an encounter with a revenant, 5:71 Exalted:

"[…] The descriptions of the creature's abilities were eerily similar to those our brothers at Marnas Pell encountered almost a century ago […]"

Solas' hideout in The Missing was located in the Deep Roads beneath Marnas Pell.

Cole's comments in Trespasser suggest that Solas was bound to Mythal.

"He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face."

While Solas seemed to have burned her vallaslin off his face, could there be a chance that he is still bound to Mythal by his true name? Could it be that he is still bound to whatever part of Mythal is trapped within the idol?

Again, the ancient spirit in DAO can only be freed from the phylactery if it is placed on an ancient altar.

So, the question is, if the idol is indeed a phylactery containing Solas'/Mythal's blood and a part of her spirit that needs to be placed on its original location/altar to free her, and if it was ripped off its original location, then where did it originally belong?

The Place Where It All Began

In 2018, we got the first DA4 teaser, showing the idol in various close-ups as well as the focal point of this mural.

Look at how the idol is suspiciously placed in the very center of the circle/tambourine which we assume to represent the Veil.

Now, what else sits at the center of the Fade that is ever present and visible but cannot be reached?

Right, the Black City.

Again, the idol is very likely depicting Mythal's death.

Now, tell me, where do you think was Mythal murdered?

Or rather, where do you think did the Blight originate?

I'm convinced that the Black/Golden City is/was Arlathan. The place where the false gods were imprisoned when Solas created the Veil. The idol/blade was likely forged after Mythal died. The 2022 cinematic clearly shows that the Blight started to spread from the center of the Golden City before it turned black and began to consume the rest of the world, but seemed to have then been contained by the Veil preventing it from spreading further.

"Had I not created the Veil, the Evanuris would have destroyed the entire world."

Corypheus is physically covered in red lyrium. We can assume that he turned into a blighted creature when he entered the Black City, which was already black and corrupted when they opened its gates.

Red lyrium only began appearing throughout the surface of all of southern Thedas in crystalline nodes following the opening of the Breach.

In Future Redcliffe, a year has past with the Breach still open and the red lyrium has spread everywhere.

It is proven that the Veil is inedvitably getting weaker alltogether, and that it will eventually come down at some point, regardless of Solas' actions.

The Veil getting weaker correlates with the Blight spreading further. If the root of the Blight lies within the Black City, and if the Blight was contained/prevented from spreading further through the creation of the Veil, and if the seven Old Gods are connected to the seven imprisoned, tainted Evanuris and serve as seals to the seven gates/mirrors of the Black City, then this banter and these visuals make a lot of sense:

Seven semi-circles with two of them still “lit” and the “tambourine”/Veil looking more broken with each new update….

Seven Old Gods/Evanuris that were banished when Solas created the Veil…..

Seven mirrors shattering….

Seven gates of the Black City, which Kordillus Drakon prophesied will someday shatter and cover both the mortal and spirit realms in darkness….

Solas: Your Order… the Grey Wardens… Blackwall: What about them? Solas: The Wardens see themselves as the world's defense against the Blight, do they not? Blackwall: Yes… why do you sound so skeptical? Doesn't everyone know this? Solas: When an Archdemon rises, they slay it. What will they do when all the Archdemons are slain? Blackwall: Retire? Solas: Without Archdemons, there can be no Blights. Is that the reasoning? Blackwall: Right. Where are you going with this? Solas: Nowhere. I hope they are correct.

Varric: Give [the Grey Wardens] some credit, it's not like you can study the Blight safely. I may not like everything they've done, but without the wardens, we'd all be blighted by now. Solas: They've bought us some time, I will grant them that.

DA4 will likely be set ten year after the events of DAI. And the Veil has gotten even weaker/Solas might succeed in tearing it down.

In Tevinter Nights, Solas claims that whatever he's going to do will "save this world".

Maybe the idol will solely be used to destroy the Veil and merge the World and the Fade, in order for him to, quote, "casually reshape reality".

BUT, you know what was proven to be the ultimate power source for Dreamers to reshape reality in a time before the Veil?

Say it with me.....

Great. Dragon. Blood.

So let's go back and assume that the idol is a phylactery that contains some part of Mythal/blood and that Solas is somehow still bound to by his true name. Mythal was likely murdered in the Black City, which might've also been the catalyst for the Blight. Solas might want to enter the Black City with the idol. Again, the ancient spirit in Origins can only be freed from the phylactery if it is placed on an ancient altar.

So… What if Solas plans to bring the idol back to its original location and free her spirit?

The Mother's Return

"Why did Mythal come to you?" "For a reckoning that will shake the very heavens."

At last, let me put on the tinfoil hat one final time and break this all down.

*takes deep breath*

The fact that it is Mythal's mosaic that is revealed to be on the platform in that final fight with Corypheus (symbolically surrounded by red lyrium!), the same ruins that were once the foundations of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

The Sacred Ashes of Andraste, which possesses healing qualities "unsurpassed by even the most powerful spells".

Andraste, who was said to be too weak to bear children, but then miraculously was able to give birth to two daughters later in life. Almost like something came into her life that enabled her to do so. Like, for example, drinking the blood of a Great dragon.

Andraste, who might have not only been a mage, but also an Old God Baby like Kieran, carrying the soul of Dumat.

Old God souls, which a certain person seems to be particularly interested in collecting.

Not the Maker, but Mythal being drawn to Andraste's Old God soul, like a moth to a flame.

Andraste becoming Mythal's host, but that host ultimately burned at the stake, so she had to find another one.

Fast forward a few hundred years. Mythal has found another host in Flemeth, who just so happens to make a bargain with Calenhad Theirin, making him, again, drink the blood of a Great dragon, to gain special powers, leading him to become the first king of Ferelden.

So she watches the Theirin bloodline, until the fateful day Alistair gets almost killed at Ostagar. So she swoops in again, nudging the course of history by saving Alistair and the HOF.

Next up is Hawke, whom she saves so Hawke could find the idol and free Corypheus, setting the events of DAI in motion.

In DAI, if the Inquisitor drinks from the Well of Sorrows and you listen very carefully to the super creepy background noises while playing the audio backwards, the voices of the Well will tell you to "Stop her" and something else that sounds like "She speaks the Calling".

The Calling. A voice, a song, dreams that will haunt the Grey Wardens. Just like a certain idol does.

The Calling, which will force the Grey Wardens to go mad and join the Darkspawn as a collective hivemind to wake the Old Gods, but only after they consumed the Archdemon's blood in the Joining.

A being controlling people as a hivemind?

Like the Titans guiding their children like a collective mind? Titans, whom Mythal was the first to kill and mine their blood and something else to create bodies for her own people.

"The First of my People do not die so easily." (- Solas in Trespasser)

An Archdemon cannot be killed, because their soul will just transfer to the nearest soulless darkspawn. Transfering the soul. The secret of effective immortality.

How do you kill an Archdemon?

By drinking their blood, slaying them and taking in their soul.

What is an Archdemon/Old God?

A dragon.

What WAS Mythal?

"The new ones are faithful to Mythal, but do not understand what she was in her fullness."

Mythal's entire image is based on that of a dragon, a form that in ancient times was reserved for the gods. Because before the Veil, it was the dragon's blood that gave those dreamers the power to shape reality, so powerful that they came to be worshiped as gods. But, I think, not only had Mythal the chief role in the pantheon because she had great dragon blood within her, but because…

Her true form IS actually a motherflippin dragon.

So. What did the Evanuris do in order to KILL Mythal?

They slayed her, drank her blood and each of the seven obtained a part of her soul, but instead of getting killed themselves, they sought to become essentially invincible through both Mythal's blood and the tainted Titan blood/red lyrium.

Let me quote this wonderful post by @virlath from a few years ago.

With her conquering of the titans, I think it’s likely that her blood is a part of the blight and the red lyrium corruption. Mythal ran the elves' lyrium operations. She had a connection to the titans and their children. She also stole knowledge of the Void from Andruil. Combining all this knowledge it makes sense that she could use this to her advantage once she was imprisoned and corrupted, because she had a connection to both dragon's blood and lyrium. She just needed a physical aspect- Flemeth, and now Solas, to act out her plans. The use of dragon fire in Dark Fortress is further indication that the combination of dragons and lyrium results in a massive power nexus. I think it’s possible that red lyrium is simply lyrium tainted with dragon's blood. More specifically, Mythal's blood. This is why dragons were strictly reserved for the evanuris in ancient elvhen times- because the key to their immortality and power was dragons and more specifically, great dragon's blood. Mythal had strict rules about taking on the form of 'divinity’. I think this was likely because dragons and dragon fire/dragon's blood was the true source of the evanuris' power, and is what allowed them to appear immortal. This could explain why the old gods are so inexplicably linked to the evanuris in the lore. I think the evanuris each had a dragon- an old god, and they each used dragon's blood and dragon fire to make their dreams into literal reality. No one could infiltrate their dreams because only they had access to the power of dragons, which they claimed was their right.

Before BioWare settled on dragons, the Archdemons were supposed to look very different.

Meaning that, each of the seven Old God souls…. is what?

Yeah, I think it's all Mythal's.

Again, WHAT did the voices of the Well tell the Inquisitor? WHO speaks the CALLING?

It's the voice of the one who's the real owner of that soul. The one who for centuries has been trying to gather the scattered pieces of HER SOUL, driven by nothing but vengeance.

"So Mythal endures."

If the idol contains a part of Mythal, and if Solas used the idol/blade to trick the Evanuris like in Dalish legends, maybe it was because they were desperate to destroy the idol and get rid of Mythal once and for all.

Remember the visions described in Trespasser.

“Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!“ “In this place we prepare to hunt the pillars of the earth. Their workers scurry, witless, soulless. This death will be a mercy. We will make the earth blossom with their passing.” “The runes say the Evanuris fought the Titans. They mined their bodies for lyrium and… something else. It’s not clear.” “They made bodies from the earth. And the earth was afraid. It fought back. But they made it forget.” "For a moment, the scent of blood fills the air, and there is a vivid image of green vines growing and enveloping a sphere of fire." “For one moment, there is a vivid image of two overlapping spheres; unknown flowers bloom inside their centers. Then it fades.”

A sphere of fire… you mean, like the SUN? You mean, Mythal actually creating a MOON, just like in Dalish mythology?

Bear with me here.

We established that Mythal mined the Titan's blood, which I believe was then used for centuries in combination with her fire to create bodies for her own people/spirits. On top of that, I believe that, after her victory, Mythal used part of a dead Titan and lifted it into the sky to use it as a "cornerstone" to build the capital city of Elvhenan, Arlathan, on top of her "enemy's corpse".

I believe that in the moment of Mythal's death, her blood altered the Titan's blood (which also sundered the Song) and that something happened to the moon that she had created, which in turn led to the unbridled power of the sun to corrupt part of the Titan that the Golden City, Arlathan, was build on, as well as both their blood. And that's when it turned black. That's when the Blight was created.

Elgar'nan is the God of the Sun in Dalish mythology. He was likely the main instigator behind the Evanuris' betrayal and Mythal's murder.

The sun imagery keeps appearing throughout DA4's promotional stuff.

If the Old God Lusacan is connected to Elgar'nan, they would represent two polar opposites. The God of the Sun and the God of Night and Darkness. Again, Kordillus Drakon prophesied that the seven gates of the Black City would someday shatter and cover both the mortal and spirit realms in darkness.

"All the world will soon share the peace and comfort of my reign."

“Lusacan, the Dragon of Night, calls to you. He lives where it is darkest and waits for the day he will rise. Drink of his blood and know the power in darkness: either fear the Night or wield it.“ "The darkspawn yearn to awaken and corrupt Lusacan to start a new age of darkness.” “A night that will never end”

But why does this need to happen? Because Mythal needs to act out her vengeance upon the ones who murdered her and doomed the world with the creation of the Blight.

"She was betrayed as I was betrayed! As the world was betrayed!" "Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!"

Solas wants to save his people no matter what, and for that, the Veil needs to be torn down, resulting in the World and the Fade becoming one again…

But, to truly restore his People, I believe that he needs the Mother to come back.

Mythal represents both Justice and Vengeance. If justice is corrupted, it will turn into vengeance. Solas makes no difference between spirits and demons.

"I am sorry as well, old friend."

That last line of Flemythal to Solas. It's so simple, but what does it truly mean? Why is she apologizing to him?

Is it because none of this would have happened if she didn't die and everything that happened to the people and the world was because of her downfall? Because it was her who started all this in the first place with the death of the Titans, stealing their hearts and corrupting their blood?

With her gone and no one left to keep the false gods in check, if it hadn't been for her death, Solas wouldn't have been left with what seemed to be the only choice?

Is she sorry for everything he had to endure, from her giving him a body against his will, twisting his original purpose, to him having to live with the guilt over the death of a world and an entire civilization for a thousand years?

Or is she apologizing for using him?

"An eclipse as Fen'Harel stirred."

"Cry havoc in the moonlight. Let the fire of vengeance burn. The cause is clear." (- Solas reciting Mythal's invication)

She knew that Solas would do anything at this point to undo his mistakes and save the people he doomed. She knew exactly what Solas would do when he came to her in that after credits scene in DAI. She knew that he would need that power and the idol to complete his ritual in order to tear down the Veil, but to what end?

Without the Veil, whoever controls the dreams controls reality.

#tinfoil time #da4 #red lyrium idol #solas #mythal #now on to being proven completely wrong about any of this! 😂

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one-piece-aus · 8 months ago

Text

Unbottle Your Emotions

Eutass Kid x Reader (Part 1)

Ahoy readers! Some of you who read my Whumptober works know I made two short whumps of Kid in a highschool AU and I can tell you enjoyed those angsty works. I've dug around in my drafts and found this, I wrote it a few years ago but nonetheless, it's the beginning of this story so I thought why not post it? Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Enjoy ^-^

"Alright, class," Makino addressed you and your classmates once she finished attendance. "I have a partner project for you to work on for the next two weeks. Before you ask, I have already assigned who you'll be working with."

You glanced over to Hawkins, if you were lucky you'd be partnered with him. The two of you were loners who stuck together. You found it easier to work with him since you kinda were on the same level when it came to that. He made eye contact with you and knew you wanted him to check his chances of being paired with you. He drew his cards under his desk before looking back to you and shaking his head. You sighed, pulling up your hood and resting your head on your arms, you continued listening to your English teacher.

"You'll be choosing a topic to write about, whether it's a review of a movie or a poem about birds, I want the two of you to make it together. This will be a presentation assignment so make sure to capture your listeners' attention and practice what you'll be reading." Makino paused, going over to her laptop, and clicking a few keys before turning on the projector. "Here are your partners."

Once the screen had been displayed your eyes scanned over the list to find your name. You saw Hawkins got paired with Cavendish, you almost felt bad for him until your eyes landed on who you paired with. The person Makino assigned you to work with was Eustass Kid.

He was the most hostile guy at school, it was no secret the guy had anger issues and was completely obnoxious. You avoided him like the plague for two reasons:

1. You were a good student and just wanted to learn, obnoxious kids disrupt the silence and your ability to learn.

2. You could only tolerate someone directing their anger at you for so long before crying; not that they made you feel sad, but because you felt anger at them and wished to shout back at them to defend yourself, yet you held your tongue back since you didn't want to cause further trouble; that bottled up emotion stressed tears out of you.

You hated crying because that made you think you appeared hurt and weak when in reality you were angry and frustrated, the more you felt it the more the tears came. That's why tried to quickly get out of the predicaments if you were ever in them.

The quickest way you dealt with someone's anger and got out of the problem was ignoring them if they were just insulting you or apologizing respectfully if you did something to piss them off. Since you pulled off these things well without appearing to be phased and having acknowledgement of the issue with genuine respect, those in school weren't aware you had a limit. However, you witnessed how Kid gets whenever someone pisses him off, you knew there'd be no way you could keep the bottle closed if he directed his anger at you, so that's why you always duck away when you saw Kid coming.

Internally you panicked when you saw you were assigned to be his partner. You didn't know how you managed to get this far acting as a ghost while being in the same classes as him this semester. You usually weren't in a corner or by the window, you were near the front of the room, second row and just two desks away from being in the center of the class, great for viewing the board. Perhaps you were a ghost to Kid since he sat around the back near the window.

Kid raised his head and looked around, searching for you, you pulled your hood further over you and lowered your head to face away from Kid. "Oi, Teach! Which one's the one I'm working with?" You heard Kid ask, I guess he really didn't know who you are.

You listened to the footsteps of the teacher, drawing towards you just as a brush does to the paints on a pallet. You feel her gentle hand rub your head, maybe thinking you were asleep, you did come in class yawning. You hesitantly lifted your head, looking up at Makino and seeing her smile. Oh, bless her heart for being kind and welcoming, wishing to create a pleasant and welcoming place for her class, but that's what's going to bite you in the ass because it meant you couldn't get out of this since she wanted her class to be comfortable with each other. You sighed, making it a sound like a yawn, and sat up but still kept your hood on.

"This is [L/n], Eustass," Makino told Kid, gesturing to you before she went to another student who had raised their hand.

You didn't say a word, instead, you took out your notes and reviewed them to see which ones you needed for the project. The daunting sound of Kid approaching your desk only made you read through your notes more frantic until he sat down in the chair in front of you with a scowl on his face. You looked away from your notes, masking your uneasy state as you finally spoke to him.

"Hi! Sorry- I was searching for the notes we'll probably need!" You apologized then glanced back at the papers and began putting the ones you didn't need back in your binder. You just needed to get on his good side, if you didn't irritate him you two could get this project over with and never have to speak to each other again, that's how classmates go.

"At least you seemed to know what you're doing," Kid responded, eyes gazing over the many notes you've jotted down as you slipped them away in the binder.

"Uh- you can pick whatever you wanna do for the project if you want," you told him and put your binder into your bag. "I'm uh- fine with whatever unless you wanted to ask the teacher to work with a friend instead, then I'll find a topic to work on by myself."

"None of my friends are in this class," he shrugged and folded his arms. "Besides I know Makino wouldn't change my partner even if I asked, I'm just glad it's not strawhat I'm working with again."

"Strawhat? Luffy?" You tilted your head, not recalling Luffy being in your class.

"He was in one of my classes last semester and we had Makino as our teacher," Kid explained as put his arms on your desk, taking up half the space.

"Oh..."

"You know the guy?" Kid inquired, raising a non-existent eyebrow at you.

"Not really."

"Good, he's annoying and so are his friends."

You sweatdropped unsure how to respond to his complaint. Normally you'd let some continue their rants until they were done, especially if they had anger issues you didn't want to trigger them, but you wanted to get everything figured out before class was over.

"So did you have something in mind?" You asked getting back on topic.

"We're not writing poetry, that's for damn sure," he grumbled, pushing his cheek onto his knuckled fist.

'How ironic, that's probably what Cavendish and Hawkins are,' you thought to yourself as you glanced at the two blonds. Cavendish seemed to be boasting about myself again, maybe being partnered with Kid wasn't so bad.

"Have you listened to any metal songs?" Kid inquired, throwing his idea out there.

"Yeah..."

"Really?" he questioned, not believing you.

"Yeah."

Kid's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, really?!"

"Uh yeah." How many times were you going to have to repeat yourself?

"Huh, I didn't think you'd listen to that kind of music."

You shrugged. "My dad got me into metal and rock when I was younger. Better than what plays on the radio."

"You don't have to tell me twice. Idiots that listen to what they play on there now don't know what real music is."

You chuckled, agreeing with Kid, maybe he wasn't so bad. "I guess we found our topic. Now we need to figure out how we'd be writing it." You flipped over one of your papers and started writing down a few methods. "Fan letter to the artist, a review of the song, analysis of the lyrics-"

A loud buzz rang throughout the school and repeated itself, you cringed at the obnoxious noise blaring in your ear. Someone must've started a fire in the bathroom again. Your class filed out of the room, merging into the sea of students exiting the building. You wanted to cover your ears as the noise became louder in the halls but you didn't want to appear like a weirdo using your hands, you had wireless earbuds but that wasn't something to take out in the stampede you were in since you could drop one. You just had to suffer internally.

Once outside, you went and stood by Hawkins while waiting for the fire department to find the fire. You rubbed your ears now that you were away from the crowd and just had your fellow loner next to you.

"Acting like a cat again, [Y/n]?" Hawkins asked, seeing you paw your ears. He often compared to his cat, Faust.

"Yeah, my ears just hurt from the noise." You despised noise.

"You should listen to some soothing frequencies after instead of your regular choice of music if you want your ears to recover properly," Hawkins advised.

"Ehhhh... I might have to this time."

"Oh?" Hawkins glanced at you, inquiring you for further details. You didn't usually listen to him when he advised you to give your ear a break from your music, hence why he grew curious to understand why you were thinking of taking his suggestion.

"I might be hearing more noise today at school but once I get home I'll probably be able to listen to it."

"And what makes you think you'll be hearing more noise?"

"I don't know, maybe-"

"OI! [L/N]!" Kid shouted to get your attention as he marched over to you.

You flinched at his voice in that tone, and the irritated expression on his face made you think you did something wrong. You turned to him and held your arm behind your back.

"Sorry, what did you need Kid?"

"Give me your phone."

"What?" You feel your chest begin to burn and you know your forehead will begin to paint itself red.

"I need it to put my contact in your phone."

You were going to push back but you folded your tongue seeing the impatient scowl Kid wore. Not questioning him further, taking your phone out of your pocket. Unlocking it, you hastily clicked over to your contact app and handed it over to the redhead before you could see him grow more impatient.

Kid, just about to add a new contact, couldn't help but notice how you only had five contacts on your phone. Only three out of the five weren't family-related. Did you just not add people to your phone? He scoffed the thought off, it wasn't his business. He began typing his number into your phone.

You wanted to ask why Kid needed to put his contact in your phone, however, your bottled emotion prevented you from speaking your question. Kid seemed pissed enough, you weren't going to attempt to do anything that might push him off the edge. You shifted your footing, the expression on your face displaying your unease.

"Perhaps you should tell why you're adding your number to her phone," Hawkins spoke up for you.

"Fuck off Basil, it's not your business," Kid barked.

"It may not be mine but it is [Y/n]'s business to know since it is her phone," Hawkins stated unphased by Kid. Oh, how you wished to be as stoic as Hawkins. Granted, you did a good job ninety percent of the time but it crumbled easily in the presence of hostile or authoritative anger.

Kid glared at Hawkins for a moment before he handed you back your phone, his attention now on you. "Send me a text," he instructed you and pulled out his phone.

You weren't sure what exactly to send so you just typed 'Hi' into the chat. A ding came from Kid's phone and he checked the message to make sure it came from you. Comparing his screen to yours, you felt your hands brush against each other. The chills surfing across your body turned your body pale from how uncomfortable you felt to Kid standing this close to you. You wanted to isolate yourself in your room, though when Kid moved away you couldn't help but be grateful.

"Alright, I got it." Kid put his phone in his pocket and started walking away. "Text me about our project later."

You stood there confused with the hidden parts of your head burning red. You didn't understand why Kid confronted you like that when he could've easily asked when the two of you got back to class. You stared in the direction Kid left until a concerned hand rested on your shoulder and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Glancing over, you met Hawkins' crimson eyes.

"The cards said you needed a comforting hand," Hawkins said unsure if he helped. "There was an 80% chance you would've shed tears if not."

Right, Hawkins is the only one who knew of your bottled frustration; he saw it happen when he walked in the middle of you being scolded by a teacher. Anyone else would've thought you were upset and sad but he could read the frustration and anger written on your face, and he drew the cards to double-check. The two of you never spoke of it at first, but after you began to hang around, and he saw it a few more times, he offered to be there for you if you ever needed a quiet place and a listening ear.

"Once the firemen are done we'll be in second period," Hawkins informed you, shifting the topic away from what just happened. He knows you don't like to stay stuck in your conflicted emotions.

"So that's why Kid did that..." You glance at the phone in your hand to see the time; English is over. Slipping it into your pocket, you groaned, realizing something. "Hhhhh, that means we still have to get our stuff from English... We have drama next class, right?"

"Hmm." Hawkins nodded.

"Can you please get my stuff, I don't think I can face Kid again at the moment."

"Very well, [Y/n]."

"Thanks, I'll treat you to lunch."

"Does that mean we'll go to the vegan restaurant?" You've known Hawkins long enough to tell the subtle delight in his monotone.

"For doing this-" You turned to him, a grateful small smile drawn on your face. "Yes."

Tag: @lil-skelly-bones

#one piece #one piece x reader #eustass x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid #one piece kid #one piece eustass #eustass kid x you #eustass kid x y/n #x reader #platonic basil hawkins #unbottle your emotions

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yenqa · 1 year ago

Text

POEMS IN VERSE(S)

sypnosis — you meet jay randomly on a subway, and soon your conversation turns into more than just the silly poem book he’s reading

warnings — profanities, mentions of insecurities, angst, they’re so gross (in a “i’m jealous” way), food/eating/drinking, lmk if there are any more :)

pairing — jay x fem!reader

word count — 3.8k+

yen’s note — i worked very hard on this and i’m pretty happy with this so i hope u enjoy :) also this is a scheduled post

Spring Break, 2019

You counted down the amount of days it would be until you turned 17.

17 was the golden age—Or at least it was supposed to be. But the thrill of turning a new age was over by the next 15 minutes. Your big smile that had originally been processing the newfound year of your life slowly dropped, as your age didn’t really matter much to anyone else than your mom or dad.

17 was when you first realized that people didn’t really care as much as you thought they did. No one would care if your hair was slightly frizzy and tangled from the light wash of rain or the fact that you enjoy reading and writing poetry.

You realized no one cared, but it was hard to stop believing it.

So, you brought a hairbrush around, or quickly hid your journal and pen anytime someone got close to you.

You’re still 17. And you still felt like how you felt 15 minutes after midnight. You felt dull. Washed-out. And the rainy season hasn't helped enlighten your mood at all.

You decided to take an impulsive day trip south, to the buzzing city of Seattle, and also wanting to take a break from everyone and the life you knew. You rushed to the subway, the tote bag that hung on your shoulder had collided with your body every step you took.

You stand right in front of the entrance, scanning the cart to see one empty seat. Sitting down, you address your surroundings, trying to read if maybe it would be a better idea to stand.

Next to you was a man around your age. Silently reading a book with a familiar cover. Staring at the book longer than you realize, you can see the man next to you no longer focused on the book, but you.

“Oh—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be staring, I just recognized the book, Lee Jieun right?”

You almost dreamily sigh every time she’s mentioned. Lee Jieun had been your favorite author for longer than you can remember, one of your favorites by her being the one the unnamed man happened to have been reading.

“Do you know her?” He asks.

Looking up at you he jerks his head to the left, his light brown hair moves out of his eyes revealing his full face. You almost forget to answer the question, busy goggling at the sight of him. His eyes laid in yours, awaiting your answer patiently.

“Yeah, I-um she’s one of my favorites actually.”

His eyes subtly check you out, you quickly realize how stupid you must’ve looked with the amount of frizz in your hair from the light drizzle outside. Slowly but not too obviously, you bring your hands up, brushing through whatever you could. Explaining to the man that the book he was reading was one of your favorite poem books. Accidently sharing that you look up to her poems and hope to have the ability to write and share your writing as inspiration for others.

He listens intently, before asking, “You write?”

Your ears grow warm as you answer every question he asks. An unusual thing that happens to you. The conversation grows into each other's lives. And you feel as if you know every part of him as he continues to talk.

Park Jongseong is his name but his English name is Jay. His favorite color is green. He likes fashion and cooking. He enjoys autumn and poetry as much as you do. He’s allergic to cats—which is a shame considering the amount of cat hair over your bag that you discreetly try to brush off while he’s talking. His favorite ice cream flavor is Pistachio and he’s not a huge fan of mint chocolate.

You’d usually argue that mint chocolate is the perfect flavor for a hot summer day but you keep quiet, just this once.

Something must’ve snuck into your brain and rewired it because you don’t seem to mind him knowing that you write. In fact you even offer to let him see your works. He reads each word intently, as if it was the most shocking news of the year.

His favorite is the one you spent the most time on. But it didn't feel as if it was your best work. You didn’t keep quiet about that fact, you hesitated to even let him read that page, but the one line seemed to have piqued his interest. Almost as if his eyes had been glued onto the small stanza.

Together we’re complete

Our perfect harmony

is truly beautiful.

You were always one to believe in soulmates, or finding someone that perfectly fit next to you. Like the final piece to your complicated puzzle. Your belief often appeared in your writings. Hoping that maybe one day, you’ll meet the missing piece from your board. That day hadn’t come yet. But you were counting down the days just as if you were about to turn 17 again.

“I like that line. What does it mean?” He asks.

“I don’t know, it just sounded right.”

That’s a lie. You know exactly what it means to you. But even as comfortable as you had felt with Jongseong. It was something too personal to share.

If you could name anyone who was the biggest sucker for romance you would name yourself. But it’s been 17 years, and you don’t even think that it was a possible option for you. Sure, you hoped to find your soulmate. But your soulmate could’ve easily been a truly platonic one. And you were losing hope for any romance coming your way. Writing about romance made you feel as if the small ball of hope was still there, and you just had to wait for the right time.

Those 17 years had told you that you couldn’t be loved. No matter how hard you tried, or even begged. This epiphany randomly hit you in the middle of buzzing parties or small group hangouts, the thought of nobody ever loving, let alone liking you constantly consumed you. Constantly bringing down your mood. That’s why you’re so fond of the idea of soulmates. Because soulmates are perfectly perfect together, and that's ensured by the universe.

He lets out a chuckle, with an understanding nod. Skimming through the small notebook you handed him.

“Why are you heading to Seattle?” You ask as he finishes, placing the notebook neatly in your bag. His mouth parts slightly, carefully choosing what to say. “I’m just taking a day trip, wanted to go explore alone.”

A small smile breaks out of you. “Would you want to travel around Seattle together?”

Jongseong lets your smile grow onto his lips, accepting your bold offer.

The conversation ends and he reopens his book, continuing the page he was on. The ride still had at least thirty minutes to go, and you didn’t want to use all your phone battery now.

You glance over to his book, cursing at yourself for forgetting to bring something to do other than play the stupid games on your phone. He silently reads as your head moves to his shoulder, laying it down and reading with him. You can feel him flinch ever so slightly, his shoulders relax before he moves the book over to the middle of you two, not uttering a word while doing so.

“Thank you,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and you’re not sure if he even heard it until he responds.

After around 45 minutes the subway comes to a stop and you tap Jongseong, pointing at the moving text on the sign to show you that you’re at your destination. He hastily picks up his stuff, grabbing your hand and walking out the doors.

“Where do we go?” You ask, looking around for any sort of sign that states the direction.

“Just follow me, I've been here a few times.” His warm hand leads you through the busy people trying to get in, pushing through the loads of people heading towards the small amount of doors in the cart. Jongseong looks back every so often, making sure the hand he’s holding isn’t a ghost. Your eyes lock, and you show him a small smile of appreciation. He smiles back, raising his eyebrows before turning back around, leading you through the clusters.

Finally, you walk up the stairs, stepping into the daylight. Still hand in hand, you use your off hand to cover your eyes from the shade. “Didn’t think it would be so sunny after all the rain this month,” You squint at the bright sky, looking over to Jongseong. He’s rummaging through his bag, pulling out a small box, opening it to reveal sunglasses. You chuckle at how prepared he is, until he places the sunglasses on you.

Your stomach erupts in butterflies as your mouth parts slightly, a smile grows on his face. “Oh no, keep them. I don’t need them” You hastily take off the sunglasses, handing them to him. He takes them, putting them back on you. You’re about to protest when he says. “Stop—just take them. I want you to wear them,” He mumbles.

You smile at him, “Thank you Seong.” The nickname comes out naturally, like you’ve known him for years. He smiles, looking away to hide the growing redness of his cheeks. You let out a breathy laugh, covering the bottom half of your face to hide the flustered state you’re in.

“Where do you wanna go?” He asks with a shy smile still planted on his face. You shrug, answering, “I have no idea. Do you have any ideas?”

His smile becomes less shy and somehow forms into a slight smirk “I have an idea.” his hands encase yours once again, and he whisks you two off to the unknown direction.

The walk is around twenty minutes, but it goes by quickly. While you two are racing to see who can hit the crosswalk button, you notice the crowds of people around the big red letters stating, “Seattle’s Farmers Market.”

You squeal, a hand coming up to cover your mouth. “I’ve always wanted to go here! You’re like a mindreader, Seong.”

With his other hand he pinches your cheek, squeezing your hand and leading you to the entrance. The growing crowd of the market pushes you to bump into each other every so often, you both laugh it off, placing your attention to whatever shop you’re checking out.

Coming across a tropical fruits stand, you start looking around, picking up a tray every so often. Not realizing the missing warmth from your hand, you scan the selection of fruits. Picking up a Rambutan, you move the tray around, trying to see if the fruit will be worth the price. You’re eye level with the fruit until you feel a tap on your shoulder.

You whirl around, to see Jongseong. A big grin planted on his face as he revealed why he’s smiling so much. A bouquet of tulips, wrapping in brown paper with twine wrapped around it waiting for you to take. But you’re frozen—Did he really just buy flowers for you?

He thrusts his hands out towards you, gesturing for you to take them. You let out a giggle, taking the brown wrapped plants out of his hands. “Gosh you’re so sweet. What did I do to deserve all of this?” You ask, the corners of your mouth slowly upturn when you look at the flowers, admiring the arrangement of light pink tulips. “Can’t I spoil you?” He responds smoothly, not letting you respond before linking your arms and heading to the next stalls.

Passing—What felt like hundreds of stalls, your feet started to cramp up. Both of you decide to take a break and sit down, finding a cafe nearby. You order for the both of you and pay—Which he strongly protests but you feel too bad for him spending too much money on you. Sitting down you let out a sigh, finally letting your feet take the much needed rest.

You two make small talk, talking about your favorite shops or something you wish you had bought. When the barista calls out your name you shoot out of your seat, exchanging a glance with Jongseong before walking over, thanking the lady and grabbing your drinks.

A wave of comfortable silence washes over you two as you try your drinks, glancing out the huge window by your table. You watch as families, couples, or just one person pass by that window. Trying to figure out something about them as they quickly pass by.

After an hour of quiet conversations of whatever intrigues you, you decide to leave the cafe. Dinner time was approaching and you wanted to beat the rush. Surprisingly, you both quickly decide on a restaurant to go to, a nice restaurant that perfectly suited your cravings. During dinner you exchange numbers, not being able to wait for the next time you’ll see each other.

The sun starts setting when you both decide to go home, walking to the subway station hand in hand. Paying for your fare you both head on the subway, sitting down next to each other. A yawn washes over you, laying your head back and closing your eyes—It’s not like you’ll fall asleep right?

It’s a shame that you did fall asleep. You feel yourself being gently shaken awake by Jongseong. You lift your head up from his shoulder, looking around the subway.

“Your stop is the next one. Can’t have you half asleep walking home.” He chuckles, you rub your eyes. Trying your best to stretch with the little space you have. “Thank you Seong.” You yawn, letting out a small smile.

He nods, inviting the smile from your face onto his. The subway comes to a stop once again and you look at him with a slight sadness. Planting a chaste kiss on his cheek you let out, “I had fun today, Seong. Let’s do it some time again, yeah?”

“Okay,” He says, smiling. “Text me when you get home okay?” You salute him, walking away with a lovesick smile on your face.

Jongseong holds the same one, still feeling the linger of your kiss on his cheek. He lets his hand touch his cheek, embarrassed by the amount of warmth that flooded his cheeks.

Spring, 2021

It had been around a year and a little over a half since the two of you had even talked.

You don’t know if he got a new number or randomly ghosted you. Even though you had met a bunch of times after, it seemed like he realized that he didn’t like you as much as you thought he did.

You should’ve expected it, I mean—It’s not like anybody could like you that much.

Sighing, you open the messaging app. Typing something in his chat before deleting it. Scrolling up to your old messages.

You hated the fact that you missed him even though you never even dated. You hated the fact that you thought you could be something more than just a failed situationship. You hated the fact that you thought someone could prove you wrong and that someone could love you.

But, of course. All good things came to an end. And what seemed to be like the only good thing in your life, completely ghosted you. You like to believe that he got a new number and forgot to tell you, or lost his phone and had to get a new sim card. But it still hurt.

So, everytime you thought of him, you reopened those messages, trying to reiterate the happiness you felt while texting him.

Looking down to the bottom of your phone you see the empty textbox, mocking you for opening the chat once again. You decide, What’s the harm in messaging him? Maybe he just missed your last few. Clicking on the textbox you type slowly, carefully thinking about your words before sending it.

hey, are you still there? didn’t take you for the type who ghosts girls

You sigh, deleting the text quickly. Looking over to see the ungodly hour of the night displayed on your clock you place your phone down, tucking yourself nicely under the blanket, praying to every god that maybe, he’s okay.

Autumn, 2022

“Have you heard Enhypens recent album? It’s so good!” Hanni exclaims, changing the music playing in the background to listen to the album.

“This is like a few months old, but anyways—Shout out is the best song ever, you should play that song.” Minji answers. They both look at you, asking for your opinion. “Who’s Enhypen?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing as you look up from your phone.

Minji scoffs, “My seven boyfriends. Listen to this song! Isn’t it so good?”

You listened to the background, bopping your head to the upbeat guitar in the instrumental. The lyrics were sweet, and meaningful. Even though you quit poetry, words still had lot’s of meaning for you, and you loved when they found significance in songs. One guy’s voice sounds so vaguely familiar, you brush it off. You probably just saw a clip of him singing a while back and didn’t remember. Getting to the second verse you pay much attention to the lyrics. Your jaw drops hearing one of the lines.

“What’d he just say? Can you rewind a few seconds Hanni?” You ask and she shrugs, opening her phone to go back a few seconds.

Listening to the same verse again you hear those awfully familiar lyrics.

Our perfect harmony

Is truly beautiful

You know those words like the back of your hand. You wrote these exact words in a poem two or three years ago. Could this be a coincidence? Probably, right? You’re too consumed in your own thoughts to hear both of the echoes of your name, following with Hanni asking why.

Slowly pulling out your phone, you quickly search “Enhypen” into the bar. Looking at the members you scan the faces. Looking at them all you see—

Jay.

That’s Jongseong.

No way, it can’t be. Clicking on his link you’re met with a collage of images. Your body seems to be moving faster than your mind because immediately you scroll down to read the small box of information about him. Oh and of course his name is Park Jongseong too but that's a coincidence, right? Switching apps, you open a selfie you and Seong took on one of your few dates.

You feel as if your eyes will shoot out of your brain, blurting out “I know him.”

Minji and Hanni both exchange weird looks, “You know who? Enhypen? Letting out a hesitant nod, they both rush over to see Jongseong’s information box on your screen. Switching apps to show them the selfie, then each side by side. “Y/n, you know Jay? As in Enhypen’s Jay?” Hanni gives you a bewildered look. You turn your head up to see Minju sharing the same one. Blinking profusely, you try to figure out how this is even possible.

“Yes! Remember the guy who ghosted me like two years ago? That’s him!” You exclaim, aggressively pointing to a picture of him. Minji’s mouth opens, forming an “o”. You all sit in silence processing this information.

Breaking the silence, Minji scoffs, “You’re telling me you had a situationship with Jay Park?

Another long silence follows, you all try to process the fact that the one you deemed as “the one who got away” was globally famous. Maybe he realized his worth, and left you. Maybe, he didn’t bother contacting you because he secretly disliked you. Or maybe he—

“Y/n, he’s coming to Seattle.”

You whip your head to the incoming voice. Instead of seeing a face, you see a phone, straight in front of you listing tour dates. You grab a hold of the phone, making sure you read the words right. “Seattle, Washington. 9/28.”

“They’re coming in a week?” You exclaim, eyes not leaving the phone for a second. Hanni rushes over and you all huddle around the phone. Your breath quickens as you process even more information. And you felt like your brain was about to explode, he would be. in city? in a week?

Hanni practically screams, shaking your shoulders harshly. She seems much more excited than you did, blabbering about how you would reunite and fall in love again. Rolling your eyes, you hand Minji back her phone. You start to question every life decision you had made in the past three years. Would he even remember you? What if it’s a different Jongseong who just happened to have the same name and look exactly like the Seong you once knew? Would you even run into him for the few days he’s there?

These thoughts circle in your brain as you lay down in bed. You thought you were over him—you weren’t even anything to begin with. Maybe it's the quickening beat of your heart to the thought of him , or the smile you hold in whenever you look back at your texts, or maybe even the loneliness you felt after him that keeps you going.

Autumn, 2022

The light breeze engulfs your body. Even though the sun seems to be blinding everywhere it’s still as chilly as ever. Looking at everyone’s outfits on the sidewalk you realize how stupid you look. Fully clothes but with sunglasses covering your eyes. Was it a necessary choice? No—but you realized that after you had left the house. It didn’t matter anyways, you could just take them off (you weren’t but it was still an option).

Taking your lunch break you walk to the cafe around the corner from your building. Recognizing the cafe as one you visited a few years ago. You ordered the same drink you did three years ago—also ordering a sandwich to eat. You sit down at a table two tables away from the one you once sat at. Placing down your sunglasses you glance around the cafe while waiting for your food.

Noticing a man in a baseball hat and a mask, you squint trying to see his face. Giving up seconds later and observing someone else. Eyes latching onto the pretty barista making your order. Watching as she quickly makes your sandwich and starts on your drink, not wasting a second to spare.

“I think those sunglasses are mine?” The masked man comes up to you, taking off his baseball cap. You get a better view of his eyes, recognizing the crinkle of his eyes when he smiles.

“Jay?” It’s barely above a whisper, but he still hears it.

He pulls down his mask, showing the face you once knew three years ago, but much more mature now. “Y/n, can we talk?” He sounds nervous, almost jittery. Constantly looking around at the strangers walking by.

“Yeah, of course.” The light tone of your voice calms him down every so slightly, sitting down in front of you with a lopsided smile.

Never in your life would you have thought you’d meet a celebrity that actually wanted to talk to you, And never in your life would you expect it to be him. Seong—Your Seong, sitting in front of you, carefully selecting every word he utters to you. The one who always knew what to say, can’t seem to get the right words out.

taglist : @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri @badmuni @yeokii @enhastolemyheart @softpia @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick

hope u liked 😍

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dead3ve · 7 months ago

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Hi! I absolutely love your writing! I was wondering, if you are interested, could you write a Todd Anderson x shy female reader where they go on a picnic and when the sun begins to set, they read each other poetry they wrote for one another? They would be dating at that point! Thank you so much!

my first request babyy!! thank you so much <33

Todd Anderson x fem!reader

Summary: In the beginning, Todd was shy, closed off and cautious around girls. All of a sudden, he's found himself bathing in the glow of a sunset, reciting his written words to who he wrote about.

Warnings: they/them pronouns used. no use of y/n. First Todd Anderson fic. Reader referred to as girl. kissing

It had taken Todd weeks to flirt with his partner. Initially, the girl was the one to take Todd's hand, or hold his face, or pull him into the kiss. Todd's partner was the one to make him flustered. He rarely ever saw them blushing because of his actions.

However, Todd was witnessing his girl blushing, looking down and fiddling with the gingham picknick blanket as Todd recited one of his longer poems to them. They couldn't look at him, due to the heat in their face and beat of their heart, so they looked at the setting sun. The poem was about their relationship. It was about the first time they snuck out of Welton together without the other Dead Poets. Todd's partner took him dancing. It was the first time Todd had felt brave.

The girl remembered the way Todd was able to hold their waist without having to ask. He was able to nuzzle into their neck without hesitation as they slow danced. It was the first time Todd kissed them. The first time they were kissed by Todd. Not the other way around.

Once he finished his poem, Todd looked up from his notebook and looked at the blushing girl. Their head was looking towards the sun and their lips were smiling. Thier left hand was resting on Todd's thigh. He could feel their joy from their fingers.

"I didn't know you wrote about me, Todd." They spoke in whispers. The way Todd usually spoke when he was feeling anxious or shy.

Todd put his hand out and pulled their face back to his. Something they had done to him many times. "I write about things that inspire me." He smiled at their red cheeks, giggling slightly as he talked. He enjoyed the girl's growing shyness.

His partner scooted closer to Todd, making sure that their legs were touching. Todd put an arm around their waist once they were settled. He hadn't felt in control before he met his girl. They allowed him to have that in between his confident friends and his careless parents.

"I wrote that short story about you." They'd admitted it into Todd's shoulder. Their voice was muffled into the knitted jumper. "Mr Keating asked me about it after he marked it." They spoke the rest of it into Todd's jumper as well. Their warm breath kissed Todd's skin through his jumper.

"Really?" Todd spoke into their hair. "What did he say?" He asked, speaking into their hair. At that he began pressing kisses onto their hairline.

His partner squeezed themself into Todd's chest, turning their face up to Todd's to receive a kiss on their lips, blush still bright on their face. Todd smiled and did what they'd silently asked for, leaning his head down to press his lips to theirs. Todd wrapped his arms around them, settling into the kiss.

"Mr Keating told me I was good for you. That we were good for each other." They were mumbling against Todd's lips. "Said he hadn't seen you so vocal in his class." They went back to kissing Todd once they finished their sentence.

Todd thought about the lesson while they kissed. He'd only said two sentences because he had answered two questions. Todd hadn't really said anything in comparison to his friends and classmates. He pulled away from the kiss suddenly, making a small smacking sound from the pair's lips. Todd looked his partner in the eye.

"I only said two things that lesson." Todd asked raising an eyebrow. He had been quiet, how was he being loud?

"Exactly. That was more than usual, handsome." They brought back their flirty charm saying this. His partner pulled Todd's face back down to theirs, making sure the kiss continued throughout the sunset, wanting to bathe in the warmth of the final rays of sun, and Todd Anderson's tight embrace.

#todd anderson #todd anderson x reader #todd anderson imagines #fem!reader #dps #dead poets #dead poets society x reader #dead poets society #dead poets fanfic

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your-local-hoemie · 2 years ago

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ꕥ Genshin Impact ꕥ boyfriend headcanons, Inazuma edition~ part one.

This is a two part one cuz there’s a lot of characters and my brain only lets me write so many in one go >_<

I’m currently in the process of preparing to move in the next few months and hopefully starting a mortician apprenticeship so I’m exciteeddddd

Summary: Just head-canons about the Inazuma hotties :p

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, maybe a tiny bit suggestive, Gn!Reader, established relationship, not proof-read.

Characters: Heizou, Kazuha, Thoma.

Heizou~

Oh no. Suddenly I’m a criminal.

I sure hope no hot, flirty, pretty detectives come looking for me >:)

We all know how, um, Suggestive this man is.

He’s absolutely not subtle about his feelings towards you.

Always giving you little compliments followed by a wink.

He somehow manages to know exactly how to turn you into a giggling puddle within the first 20 minutes of hanging out.

Takes you on surprisingly? Very romantic dates!

His favourite is to bring you on a picnic under the Sakura’s or a quiet night with you both wrapped up in a blanket reading crime novels or cases he wants to share with you!

He doesn’t get jealous often.

Man has a EGO.

But on the rare occasion that he does, you can bet your ass that he’s going to be snarky as all fuck.

Not to you of course.

No no-

He’ll probably be overly clingy and flirty with you!

More than usual-

But the offending person will quickly get the idea that they’re on the receiving side of his wrath.

Might outright call them stupid hfkvjfod.

He’s into fishnets.

I’m sorry (I’m not) but he wears them too much for me to not believe this man would break the second he see’s you wearing them~

Also handcuffs ;)

I don’t think he’s the type to be overly protective of you.

Don’t get him wrong, he does worry!

He just know you’re capable of handling yourself in fights!

If you come back hurt, it’ll depend on the severity of how much he’ll worry.

If it’s just a few scrapes a bruises, he’ll likely patch you up while scolding you to be more careful!

“Man alive Y/N? *sigh* my occupation is ‘detective’ you know. Not doctor. Let’s try and keep it that way, hmm?”

But if it’s more serious then prepared to be babied hdhsjd

You won’t be allowed to do anything until he’s satisfied that you’ve recovered!

He’ll bring you the best food he can get his hands on in Inazuma along with cute plushies and will even work from your teapot instead of the office which makes him surprisingly more efficient-

If you ever get insecure about yourself then buckle up-

He’s prepared to give you his entire analysis on how he thinks you’re better than Celestia herself.

My guy has facts, evidence and probably a bulletin board to prove that to you!

He might be a little scared to say the special three words (aka “I love you”) at first but it doesn’t stay that way for long!

All it took was him seeing you, face first in a case file looking all disgruntled and frustrated with your nose scrunched up and his mouth spoke faster than what his brain could think.

He won’t say it all the time but he tells you at least once a day <333

He can’t bare the thought of you not knowing how much you mean to him, no matter how stubborn he is!

Kazuha~

I think I’ve made it obvious in my previous posts how pretty I think this boy is.

Like??????? Hello?????

God he would cHERISH YOU!!!

Definitely a little awkward at first but I head-canon that he’s actually really flirty!

He’s just super good at keeping it subtle enough that no one else notices shdufufuejjrifkAAAAAA

When he first started getting feelings for you Beidou referred to him as a literal love sick puppy.

He’s often sit on the end of the Crux (idk what ship parts are called) and write poems and haikus while looking up at the stars and blushing violently while thinking about you.

He definitely didn’t escape the crew’s teasing whenever he’d follow you around and seemed more giggly than usual!

Beidou was actually the one who got kinda tired of watching him run in circles so she set ya’ll up on a date without telling either of you-

Definitely said some cute poem when confessing!

“Like captured water, You hold me in your cupped hands. I flow on your palm.”

Haikus are confusing man wtf.

He definitely isn’t one for being kept in one place but it’s impossible not to notice how much longer he seems to stay around you!

And when feels the time is right for travelling again, he’ll often ask you to accompany him!

He’ll always bring you back a souvenir if you’re too busy to go with him!

Always tells you how it reminds him of you too!

Like he’ll bring back a red/pink sea shell and explain how the colour reminds him of when you blush or laugh so much your cheeks turn red.

He is protective of you but not overly.

He’ll voice his concerns about any dangerous commissions or quests you take on but if you’re insistent then instead of stopping you, he’ll accompany you!

He’s such a sweet, quiet boy so it comes to a big surprise the first time he protects you.

Actually raises his voice and shouts for you to get to safety (like when he shouted for that one dude to stop hiding)

Obviously he apologises after and explains he just wanted you to move so you didn’t get hurt :(

Completely random but I head-canon that he’s close to Yoimiya and every year for your birthday, he’ll bring you to Inazuma and take you to a really beautiful spot then set off fireworks that he planned with her!

And if you don’t like fireworks then he’ll still take you to a beautiful spot with a picnic and just watch the sunset with you~

Thoma~

Pretty boy, good boy.

House wife, even.

He doesn’t believe he deserves you :(

Reassure this boyo.

He fell head over heels from the very first moment!

Every time you talked he’d get so flustered and stutter on every other word hdjjddjd!

Ayaka obviously knew what was going on and you did as well!

The both of you made out a plan on how you would confess to him and when you did-

Oh boy-

He almost started crying ududieifjck

Hugged you so tight for like a solid 3 minutes!

Ever since then, he always picks a flower from the tea house where you both made it official and brings it home to you!!

He’s a good cook so you can bet your lucky ass that you’ll have breakfast in bed on his days off!!

He’d also help fix your clothes if they get ripped during fights!

Ayato would definitely find the situation amusing so don’t be surprised when thoma suddenly gets the day off~

He does get very easily flustered so pda would probably be kept to the minimum unless you want the poor boy melting into a blushing puddle.

He’s not overly protective of you but he does worry himself into a stupor!

Like he won’t stop you going out on commissions but the second he see’s a scratch or a bruise, it’s out with the first aid and a stern lesson on how to patch yourself up!

He’s even made a personal travel first aid bag for you!!

At night when you’re laying in bed, there’s absolutely nothing he loves more than telling you about his day or listen to your stories while you play with his hair!

You’ve both become somewhat unintentionally popular!

Not to mention the people who are just a tiiiiny bit jealous that you’re the lucky one and not them.

Which you totally don’t relish in, just a little~

He can’t help it!!

He just loves talking about you and how happy you make him! Obviously people are gonna talk about how cute y’all are :p

He’s banned you from playing the pot game.

No one really knows how but you managed to give everyone who played it a stomach ache for a solid week.

Boy also insisted on teaching you how to play chess!!

He totally hasn’t let you win a handful of times just because he couldn’t bare to see how sad you looked when you lost

he also just wanted the table to stay in one piece-

This man refuses to go to work or to bed without giving you a good morning or goodnight kiss!

He adores how cute you are when he reminds you that he loves you even if it’s in a simple gesture!!

Ya’ll, I haven’t slept for three days and the hat man is starting to morph into cyno.

Yes I’m totally fine :3

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salty-croissants · 1 year ago

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Tu sais je vais t’aimer ( Bullfrog x g/n reader )

It’s been a while since I made a story unrelated to requests … I just felt like doing something a little different since I recently noticed that we have reached 110 followers , which is just -

Broo !! :,0

I really wanted to take the opportunity to thank you all so much for being so supportive of my little headcanons and stories for Bullfrog and Rayman , you’re all really amazing and kind and you’ve really made me feel like home here on Tumblr …

I may be a bit too busy and ( most of all ) shy to interact much with everyone , but I really do appreciate you guys … thank you so much , I mean it :,) ❤️

Now then , onto the actual story , I’ve recently stumbled upon this beautiful French song , and at some point a random inspiration for a Bullfrog fic hit me :

what if the reader decided to surprise their beloved frog boy by singing him this song ? Maybe for a special occasion , like the one year anniversary of the relationship ?

It just seemed too wholesome of a concept for me to let go , so I ended up writing this :,)

I also added a translation in English for the lyrics , because it’s just so cute and it melted my heart when I read it ;//;

Hope this turned out okay !

Details : use of g/n reader who likes to sing and can play piano ;

established relationship ;

no warnings needed

It had been a very long , tiresome day for Bullfrog …

The last mission the Warden had assigned him and his companions had been filled with complications , and this could easily be guessed by his bruises and ripped clothes .

Even as someone who took pride in his job , he yearned for nothing more than to find a quiet place to rest … hopefully in the arms of his beloved .

He also hadn’t forgotten about what a special time this was , so before going back to you he had managed to pass by a flower shop and buy a bouquet of your favorite flowers : the thought of your smile in front of his gift was the one thing that was keeping him from dropping on the ground for sheer exhaustion .

< I’m back mon amour ! Sorry for being late , this was a much more difficult task than I anticipated … >

Bullfrog stopped , slightly alarmed by the fact that you weren’t behind the door to greet him like usual :

you were always so happy to see him whenever he got back , so it was quite strange …

He closed the door as quietly as possible and begun to walk , attentive to every single sound to avoid anything sneaking by him .

If something had happened to you , he was more than ready to rescue you and defend you from any possible threat , exhausted or not …

But it was then that he heard it : someone was playing the piano in the living room , and when he finally reached it his eyes widened …

You were there , as beautiful as ever , and as soon as your eyes met you smiled softly at him and started to sing …

< Tu sais je vais t'aimer même sans ta présence

( You know I'm going to love you even without your presence )

Je vais t'aimer même sans espérance

( I will love you even without hope )

Je vais t'aimer tous les jours de ma vie 🎶

( I will love you all the days of my life ) >

Bullfrog wanted to say so many things in that very moment , and yet he was so overwhelmed by joy that he couldn’t bring himself to speak …

He just walked forward , sitting on a chair next to you while listening to the sound of your voice .

< Dans mes poèmes, je t'écrirai c'est toi que j'aime …

( In my poems I will write to you it is you that I love )

C'est toi que j'aimerai tous les jours de ma vie🎶

( It's you that I would love all the days of my life ) >

He looked up at you in awe , nodding his head to the beat , and as soon as the song ended and your hands left the piano you finally turned around once more to look at your boyfriend .

< Happy anniversary , love ~

God , you won’t believe how many months it took to learn how to pronounce everything correctly … buut , I just really wanted to do something special for you , you know ? I hope I didn’t butcher too many words …

Also sorry for being so quiet before , I didn’t mean to scare you , but I wanted to surprise you and - >

Worry immediately filled your eyes when you took a better look and noticed the bruises on his face , but Bullfrog shook his head , caressing your cheek with one hand …

< Don’t you think about that my dear , it’s nothing … besides , receiving something so beautiful from you as a gift was enough to make it all better . >

He smiled at you tenderly , watching you leave a kiss on his palm .

< Thank you , y/n … je t'aime tellement … ~ >

You let out a little chuckle , unable to stop your cheeks from turning red in front of his loving words …

< I love you too , Bullfrog … I’m really lucky to have you , you know ? >

Before you could even realize it , the distance between your faces diminished more and more , until eventually your lips met into a much anticipated and needed kiss .

You closed your eyes , letting out a sigh while holding Bullfrog in your arms , and you could feel all the tension in his body instantly melt to your touch as he gladly leaned into it …

Eventually you both pulled away , staring into each other’s eyes and enjoying that precious moment of intimacy .

< We should probably get you patched up now , sweetie … those bruises look painful . >

< Alright alright , but before that , here … >

< *gasp* - you remembered my favorite flowers ! Thank you Bullfrog , these look beautiful ! >

< Don’t mention it mon cher , it’s not quite as good as your gift , but … >

< Are you kidding ? I love them ! We should put them in some water before they start wilting … >

As the two of you carried on with your conversations , glad to finally be together , the sun started to disappear behind the tall skyscrapers of the city … some of the nightly neon lights were already starting to illuminate the crowded streets .

It had certainly been a one year anniversary to remember .

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#captain laserhawk #x reader #bullfrog x reader #bullfrog captain laserhawk #captain laserhawk bullfrog #captain lazerhawk bullfrog #gender neutral reader #Youtube

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ashlingiswriting · 1 year ago

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do i know you? chapter eight

[ chapter eight — 6.4k words ] [ masterlist ] [ prev chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven ] "well, now you know what to get me for christmas." richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn warning: drugs, insects

the next day, you wake to your customary darkness. outside your window light snow whispers against your window and thick clouds beyond promise there’s more where that came from. you pull a mini pizza from the freezer, crack an egg on top and put it in the toaster oven, call that protein. boil some water in your smallest pot. pull out your favorite chipped blue mug.

the dream did come last night, but its dread was dulled by early waking. you’re grateful for that. this is about as good as it gets, you think: tea on the way, a thick stillness enveloping your apartment, the city outside preparing to sleep while you keep watch.

but wait, the phone.

you go into your room and kneel by the bed.

michael’s small box is half-empty now that you’ve put his shirt in the wash, so the nokia is easy to find. when you flip it open, he’s there, waiting for you—one unread text—and in the sleepy silence, a bubble of incredulous unreality balloons and then bursts. it’s not michael.

they all blur into each other like drops of blood in water: you’re crushed to find that he’s still gone, relieved he’s still gone, guilty you were relieved, relieved that richie’s texted—no, happy—no, that’s embarrassing, but you can’t help it. it’s happiness and it’s something else. happiness is the warmth by your side and something else is the radiator.

the message turns out to be a single emoji, the one with the pink tongue sticking out. definitely richie. with no idea what that’s supposed to mean, you try to think of something equally silly. failing that, you pull up wikipedia on the phone and generate random wikipedia articles until you finally come across a fragment that strikes you as too beautiful to pass up. you weren’t looking for beautiful, but what the hell, it’s charmed you. copy, paste, and send.

> it was announced on january 30, 2023, that she will be writing an original poem dedicated to nasa's europa clipper. the europa clipper will launch in 2024, and by 2030, will be orbiting jupiter. limón's poem will be engraved into the craft.

not expecting an immediate reply, you replace the lid on the box and slide it back under your bed, only to hear the vibration of the phone against the wooden floorboards.

reading what he’s written makes you smile. proper punctuation and all, mimicking you. can’t tell if it’s meant to be snide or if he’s just matching what he thinks is your mood. you’ll take it either way.

> must be a bad motherfucker, that limon.

> must be.

> is she your favorite poet or something?

you feel a dissonant twinge of pride and shame. you once had a favorite poet, but that was a long time ago.

> i haven’t decided yet. are you getting better?

> i haven’t decided yet. i had three grape popsicles in bed for my breakfast, it’s kind of hard to argue with that.

> malingerer.

> i’m actually polish.

and so on.

when he finally says goodbye so he can go back to sleep, you’re still laughing a little to yourself, and you’ve been kneeling there beside the bed for so long that your knees ache.

in the days that follow, richie texts you at exactly the time he’d usually visit. you stand outside like he’s still there, have a couple cigarettes, and enjoy the nonsense even as your fingertips go numb in the cold. once, he sends a picture of a meme so italian that you don’t get it. you obviously weren’t meant to get it, either, so you respond by sending him the middle finger emoji, which he, nonsensically, hearts.

if he needs help, he’ll ask for it, you think. you hope. he seems to be on the mend. anyways, you no longer feel that fear except in dreams, and you stop wondering when he’s gonna text and start expecting it, and then, less than a week later, he shows up. you know this because he texts, where are you?

you open the window and stick your head out into an eddy of snow. sure, you’re glad to see him, but: it’s too fucking cold for this!

he waves.

man was feverish for literally days and here he is in mid december with a hoodie under his leather coat but no scarf, absolute idiot, and so you close the window, go down to meet him, and break the rule. standing there, holding the door open, you say, c’mon.

he’s surprisingly perceptive. he walks over, but he doesn’t cross the threshold, just pauses in front of you.

i don’t think we can smoke in there, he says.

we can’t, you say, moving back one more step, making even more room for him. or at least i can’t. i don't want to get evicted. my landlady will do it too.

yeah? he says, not moving. you're scared of her?

you shrug. you've moved back as far as you can, you're letting all the cold air in, and there's nothing you can do except say please.

you say, she's like four foot tall and a hundred years old, man. women that tiny that survive that long? you should be scared of them.

as if that was the final straw—though how could it be?—richie walks inside. without skipping a beat and for no reason you can figure out, richie walks inside.

learn my ways, sweetheart, he says, touching his chest and giving you his very best look of ridiculous condescension. old women love me.

as you close the door behind him, you fend off a stray, ridiculous burst of giddiness. it's just the lobby, pale linoleum floors and a single artificial plant by the elevators, but it feels radically different from the concrete outside. no cigarettes, no excuses. he’s only there for one reason.

old women do not love you, you say.

they do!

tina loves you. the rest of them, i don't know.

he snorts. you really don't want to be standing face to face with him for however long you’ve got him, so you lean on the wall instead, and he settles by your side the same way he always does.

when he looks over at you, there’s a hint of sly mischief in his eyes that makes you say, what?

wait for it, he says, and when you open your mouth, he holds up a finger.

you roll your eyes, but you hold your tongue with no idea what this is about, undisguised curiosity, and a readiness to be delighted.

you hear that? he finally says.

wind, maybe, or the distant rattle of a train? nothing special. you shake your head no.

that, richie says, is the sound of the sky not falling.

knowing he noticed, that’s the worst thing about being told that everything is gonna be okay. it’s also the best thing. you shove him with a bony, solid elbow. i should’ve let you freeze.

he catches himself before he can topple, his smile gone goofy and so pleased. fuckin drama queen.

full han solo style, block of ice.

it was carbonite, not ice. how do you not know star wars?

course i know star wars, you lie. how do you live in chicago and not own a hat?

i have hats. i just also have a car.

uh-huh. if he wants to trade accusations, you’ve got a doozy you’ve saved up till you could turn it on him in person. i noticed the other day that your place isn’t exactly in a location that makes my place ‘on the way home’ from the beef.

he’s caught, not sorry. grins. you noticed that, did you.

yeah, i might not be from around here, but i still know north from south, all that shit.

well okay, sherlock. you wanna charge me with a crime? the challenge in his eyes says it all; he knows you’re not unhappy to find he lied.

you still need to get a hat, you say.

well, now you know what to get me for christmas.

you’re getting jack shit.

you already know what you’re getting him for christmas.

kraft’s mac and cheese is a christmas tradition in a two-person slice of your family, and you’re one half of that slice, so mac and cheese is the first thing you think of when richie tells you he’ll be there for christmas eve.

after that, it’s on to donna’s on christmas day. then i’m gonna kidnap carmy for some ice fishing, he says.

you ever been ice fishing before? you say.

he splutters. do i not strike you as a, uh, an experienced-ass f—

no.

—fisherman and woodsman, and like—

nope.

—man of the… he gives up. whatever?

do you have a float suit?

richie exhales smoke and fixes you with a look, annoyed but curious.

i’m carmen fucking sandiego, you say, by way of explanation. of course you’ve been ice fishing, you’ve been all over the world.

sure you are, he says. he waves a dismissive hand. my buddy’s got all the stuff, we’ll be fine. it’s whatever, i just gotta get carmy out of the city so the only things he ends up killing are fish.

his first christmas since. you don’t have to finish the sentence.

yup, richie says.

it’s richie’s first christmas since, too, but there’s no call to say that.

lapsing into a companionable silence and shrinking a little closer to the building as the wind picks up, you decide that you’re definitely gonna make him kraft mac and cheese for christmas eve. he wouldn’t take it as a letdown, he'd laugh at the single spinach leaf on top. he’d get it.

on christmas eve, ten minutes before you’re expecting richie to show up, you get a text message.

> need u

it’s the wrong phone, though. it’s your work phone, and after everything those fuckers have done, they can’t possibly be calling you in on christmas eve. not now. your butter’s already cut, your colander’s in the sink, and you’re stirring the pot of boiling macaroni with a couple takeout chopsticks. they can’t—

the phone starts ringing. you pick up.

fuck off, you say.

no wait!

the voice is familiar; it’s kevin, a man so stupid that he once introduced himself to you out of anxious friendliness even though you’ve always made very clear that you don’t want to know anybody’s names. kevin must have you on speakerphone, because in the background, you can hear the telltale sounds of somebody else cursing in a continuous wretched stream. that piques your curiosity.

thirty seconds, you say. keep it clean. meaning, don’t give me names.

kevin says, we were doing a thing and some stuff happened.

that’s no use. he kept it a little too clean. you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between two fingers. you were doing a thing on christmas eve?

we thought…look, can you just come? aren’t you on call? isn’t this your job?

you tell me, you say. it’s been radio silence on my phone for three weeks and i haven’t gotten paid for almost a month now.

oh.

yeah, you say, knowing damn well that it’s not kevin’s fault, but more than happy to take this out on somebody. they fucking ghosted me.

sorry to hear that, man, he says awkwardly.

a thought occurs to you. likelihood of the carusos being involved in some shitbrained christmas eve scheme pulled by kevin? nil.

was this even a sanctioned thing? you say. like, did—

you know what, it’s fine, kevin says hurriedly. it’s basically a flesh wound.

the guy in the background howls, i got shot in the fucking foot!

shut up, howie, kevin hisses. you hang up.

there’s no reason for you to get involved. no orders, no blackmail, and probably no money; plus, your timer is counting down the last minute of macaroni boiling and richie will be on his way soon.

you pocket your phone, walk back to the stove, and resume stirring.

no reason for you to get involved. your timer rings out, so you dump out the pasta, put it back in the pot with the butter, add some water and the cheesy powder, stir with an eye for sauce thickness, wait for it to settle you. it doesn’t.

the thing is, there are so many small tricky bones in the foot, and you haven’t had a real surgery challenge in ages. ever since your bosses ghosted you, you’ve just been staying in your apartment, in limbo, seeing nobody except richie and occasionally a cashier. sleeping and waking neither on your old strict schedule nor on a normal daylight one. doing nothing, worth basically nothing.

so yeah, you text kevin.

> send me the address

then, as quick as you can so you don’t have time to overthink it, you text richie.

> work emergency, i have to cancel. sorry.

the response is immediate.

> text me when you get home.

you realize that you’re still stirring, and you turn off the stove. although you give him a couple minutes, richie doesn’t add anything. no joke to put spikes on the soft gesture, no expression of disappointment to make you feel guilty for canceling this late. nothing. text me when you get home, that’s all.

if you were that generous, you’d text back don’t stay up, let him get some extra sleep in preparation for tomorrow’s christmas hell. but you don’t. you want to think of him waiting for his phone to chime, staying awake for you, thinking of you, even worrying. so you react with a thumbs up to his message.

the next time your phone goes ping, it’s kevin sending you the address, and you head for the door.

you’re sitting on a coffee table beside the old sofa that holds your resting patient. lying on the coffee table beside you are half a dozen grape skittles, the remainder of your christmas eve meal. there’s literally baggies of cocaine sitting on the kitchen table, the tv is playing charlie and the chocolate factory, and everyone involved in this—including yourself—is so stupid that you’re all definitely going to jail. but you’re having one of your good nights.

only drugs compare to the state of pure focus that surgery grants you, and even though it’s always in shit circumstances done for shit people, you can’t help but feel like a serious machine doing all this ad hoc emergency shit. this has to be how athletes feel, after a game. it’s physical: your vision feels clearer, your hands are steady, your body’s slouched comfortable and sated. it was decent work you did, given the lack of fucking everything. you’re pretty sure howie won’t even have that bad of a limp.

kevin finishes counting your pay and hands it over. you begin to count it again, too—twenty, forty, sixty—and then look up at him.

what? he says.

you haul yourself up and walk over to the kitchen table, ignoring the cocaine in favor of the scale, on which you place a twenty. it comes up as 0.94 grams when it should be a single 1.0. so you throw your earnings in the sink, get out your lighter, and set it on fire.

the fire alarm! kevin rushes over to turn the tap on and put it out.

you can hear howie calling from the couch, what’s burning?

kev just tried to cheat me.

i did not, kevin says miserably, it was a misunderstanding.

he pulls his own wallet out of his back pocket and starts to count the money, but you take it from his hands, sit at the kitchen table, and begin counting money yourself, weighing each bill as you go. once you’ve taken a hundred and fifty, you stand up and call over to howie, night.

yo, howie says. is my, like. what are the chances they gotta amputate?

that gets you a little, despite everything. howie spent the past few hours thinking he was gonna lose an entire foot, and he was stubbornly proud enough that he almost made it without admitting the fear to anyone. in a way, you gotta give it to him. admiration’s too grand a word, but it’s something like that.

chances are super low, you say. as long as you follow instructions, keep an eye out for infection, and don’t get hooked on pills, you’re gonna be fine.

for a second, there’s silence. then: thanks, babygirl.

for that, you take another forty dollars from kevin’s wallet and point them at him. asshole tax, you say.

as soon as you’re out of the house, you can hear kevin locking the door behind you. then he says, goodnight!

i shoulda robbed you, you say. then you start down the sidewalk. it’s bitter cold and you’re not a hundred percent sure you’re headed in the right direction, but just then you feel invincible.

fuckin jagoffs, say to yourself.

on the train home, the peace and quiet is interrupted by a herd of college girls, twentysomethings all decked out in tinsel necklaces, clearly on their way to a different party, and hitting all the wrong notes in deck the halls.

most days, you’d hate this, but in your current state of satisfaction with yourself and the world in general, their effortless enjoyment doesn’t seem to completely shut you out. they’re so young, and one of them is sitting in another’s lap while a third drapes herself over her shoulder. they smell like spiced rum, they make it hard to be a bitter old crone.

one of the carolers makes direct eye contact with you, and instead of having the decency to keep herself to herself, she extends her hand to you and sings even louder, fa-la-la-la-ing like she’s god’s gift. for a second, you let yourself mouth along, fa-la-la-ing, but then she says, come on, i know you can do better than that! and nope, nope. fuck it.

you try to look away, she yells another, come on! and you give her the death glare. surprisingly, she keeps beckoning to you—they’re stubborn, kids these days—but eventually you win the way you knew you would.

she looks away and whispers in the ear of the lap-sitter. that girl, the tiniest of them all, gives you a look that could sear meat. you could break her in half with one hand tied behind her back, she really has the build of a hummingbird, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping her.

you roll your eyes, lean back with exaggerated deliberation, and get out your phone.

> i’m home.

you want somebody of your own, you want richie’s reply. but none comes.

he’s not waiting for you outside your apartment building, either, so there goes that mad hope.

when you get inside your apartment, you kneel to untie your boots and spot a flicker of movement on the floor. it’s a black ant scurrying towards your countertop. with a rising sense of horror, you straighten up and see a swarm of ants, dozens and dozens, maybe a hundred busily moving little black dots, crawling to and from the pot of macaroni and cheese on your stove. your stomach turns, and if you’d had a real dinner, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from throwing it up. as it is, you just gag. it feels like a violation, an invasion, and you’re more outraged about these fucking ants in your apartment—your fucking apartment—than you ever were about getting not paid or cheated or maybe even blackmailed.

you go into the kitchenette and get the ant spray out from under the sink, then you stand back and spray everything in sight. the whole fucking counter, even though, yes, you cook your food on that, and the stove, and the floor for good measure. fuck them all.

you should’ve known better than to leave food uncovered in this apartment. you’ve lived here for three years and this always fucking happens. you’d think the novelty would’ve worn off, but nope. it’s still as disgusting as it was the first time you woke up to see last night’s plate covered in black.

today, the spray isn’t working fast enough for you, so you get out a trash bag, put the pot in it, and head out for the dumpster.

out there in the cold, waiting for the ant spray to do its work inside the trash bag, you remember that you left your lighter in kevin’s house. you tip your head back and look up at the sky. it’s so thickly smothered in clouds, there’s barely a glow of moon.

yeah, you say.

after a while, you untie the bag, shake the dead ants off your pot, and throw the bag away. you’d stomp on the ants for spite, but that would necessitate looking at them, and you’ve had more than enough of that. you just head back for home.

you almost make it to the front door, and then you smell it, the smoke.

well? richie says from around the corner. he must have heard your footsteps. you coming or what?

you walk the last few steps and there, just around the corner, there he is. he has the navy hood pulled up over his head, both his hands shoved deep in his pockets, a cigarette between both lips. he looks at your pot with interest.

after a second, you say, you’re late.

something tickles the inside of your wrist and you flinch. one last ant has crawled up the handle of the pot and onto your arm; you drop the pot in the snow and shake the ant off you. it lands by richie, and he stomps it dead matter-of-factly.

it takes everything you’ve got not to start swearing like howie with a shot foot.

merry christmas? richie says after a second.

merry fuckin christmas. you reach out and take the cigarette from his lips. long drag. you needed that.

settling beside him so both of you can look out into the night, you hand the cigarette back. and that’s how it is for a while, sharing. the wind thins out, the streetlight across the way reflects in the glass of another apartment building's door.

when your body’s finally calmed down, you look over at him. i got you something.

aw, you didn’t have to, he say, a little curious and not particularly surprised. he probably thinks it’s a joke.

you hold your right hand palm up, and he takes his right hand out of its warm jacket pocket to mirror the gesture. then you reach into your hoodie and unclasp his gift from your neck.

the chain is gold. thick, but not so thick that it comes across comical. incongruous with you and with him, the weight of it and the shine, how new it is. when you lay it in his hand, it looks like a golden snake, intricate and flawless.

after a second, he gives you his cigarette like he can’t both smoke and think about it. then he speaks.

this is fake, yeah, he says.

hundred percent fake.

actually, it’s regifted. it was originally one of your boss’s christmas bonus gifts, and given that you pawned all the other christmas bonus gifts to pay rent, you’re pretty sure that the chain is solid gold. it’s for the best that he doesn’t know it, though.

as you watch, he puts it on, fumbling a little with the clasp. looks at it for a second, tucks it back inside his coat. there goes the last

yeah? you say, after a second.

yeah. think i like this sugar baby shit. keep ‘em coming, he says.

you laugh, real, so relieved that he didn’t take it weird, so relieved that you got lucky tonight and he got it the way he sometimes can, acceptance without explanation.

he lets you laugh, and then he says, mine’s better, though.

diamonds?

it’s back at my place, he says. i can drive?

you want that so bad, and you didn't even think to want it just seconds before.

yeah, you say, dropping the cigarette and stomping it out right beside the dead ant, unbothered.

you want to take the pot up?

you shrug, crouch down, and cover it with some snow; you’re not gonna leave him down here waiting for you, and you’re not gonna take him up to the horrorshow of dead ants either.

it’s still pretty obvious, richie says.

it’s christmas eve, who’s gonna bother digging in dirty snow to steal a pot?

this is chicago.

this is idle argument as companionship and you know that, but you're impatient. are you taking me home or what? yes, you can hear the double entendre. no, you don't fucking care.

there’s a slight pause before richie says, car’s this way.

in the car, there’s crumbs but not much mess; a coupon for personal pizzas in the cupholder, and that’s it. he must have cleaned.

when he starts the engine, you say, wait, and make an elaborate show of putting on your seatbelt. then you say, okay, now i’m ready.

fuck you, he says, and he’s still smiling when he starts to drive.

the radio is playing carols dimly in the background, and you don’t hate it.

you doing anything for christmas day? richie says.

i’m working christmas, you lie.

seriously? tell your boss he’s fucking barbaric.

would if you could; you’ve already tried to say as much in your many texts, but it is what it is.

yeah, you say. bunch of fuckin jackoffs, right?

jagoffs, he says, over-enunciating, frustration immediate. he really is too easy and he knows it. you’re—

jackoffs, that’s what i said, that’s what you told me—

if you can’t do it right, don’t do it at all. he has to drive with his right hand so he can make chopping motions for emphasis with his left hand, because of course he does.

you say, jackoffs.

you’re killing me.

and yet you go on surviving. you relent. got everything you need for ice fishing?

richie scoffs in disgust. yeah, but now carmy is trying to bail on me.

if he’s not gonna say, typical, then neither are you.

he wants to work on the twenty-sixth, he says.

oof.

yeah. like a full planning session, go over the rest of the rollout schedule with the entire staff and like… he rubs his forehead. i don’t know. like we haven’t even gone to christmas yet and he’s already, fucking. i don’t know!

i mean.

he glances over at you briefly.

carmy wants to make the staff come in on the twenty-sixth just to go over the renovation schedule again?

he’s out of his fucking mind.

you already know what you want to say, but you have to double-check it in your own head to make sure you’re not overstepping. you don’t actually know these people.

but also, fuck it.

you know, you say, you could tell him if he acts like this, syd’s gonna quit again.

he whistles. julie with the big guns.

how i’m built, you say.

yeah, i noticed, he says affectionately. it’s okay. i’ll figure it out.

i know you will. it’s kindness, and you mean it, and you don’t take it back.

thanks, he says.

you lean your forehead against the cold glass of the car door and watch chicago going by, all gold and black and white.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in an underground garage.

you ready for this? this is gonna rock your world, he says.

diamonds and rubies? you say, unbuckling your seat belt.

you’re gonna be fuckin crying.

diamonds and rubies and pearls?

at the door to his apartment, he says, close your eyes, hold out your hands, and wait here, so you do. when the door opens, you can smell whatever it was he made for his christmas eve dinner with eva. it smells like everything christmas eve should be, rich and homey. you could wait here for, say, half an hour. you could stretch this moment out. you wouldn’t mind.

okay, richie says. here.

when the gift touches your palm, you instinctively pull back. richie swears and catches it.

it’s hot! you say as you open your eyes.

it’s soup, he says. you want it cold?

you look down. yeah, that’s definitely french onion soup, with a big white and brown patch of melted cheese and toast on top. it’s an echo of what you made him when he was sick. it’s him showing off his work in comparison to your two-ingredient version. it’s unfortunately perfect. there’s no way he knew that you haven’t had anything for dinner except skittles.

it smells like home.

here. you hand the bowl back to richie, but only so you can take off your coat and your shoes.

there’s only one hook on the back of his door, so you hang your coat overtop his. as you move through his apartment, you take stock: the walls are still orange, but things are a little tidier and there are new drawings magnet-pinned to the fridge. eva’s going through a cat era, clearly. the kitchen lamp is as warm as before, and the cactus by the window has a small red ribbon on it, probably a nod to christmas.

you sit down at the kitchen table on one of the foldable stools, and richie sets your spoon and bowl in front of you. there’s a half-empty bottle of coors on the countertop behind you, and you take a sip of that. he sits down on the chair to your left, so he’s in your peripheral. he’s next to you.

you can feel it coming.

um, you say.

he glances over, and you can feel that too. what’s up.

don’t be a dick, okay. you say it very low and very flat, not even angry, because angry wouldn’t cut it.

the pause is too long, but at least he finally says, okay.

you pick up your spoon and take the first sip.

the bit of melted cheese hits first, warm and gooey and salty then the sweet savory richness of the broth, and yeah, okay. it’s happening. your eyes are wet.

you can feel him not saying anything about it, but before it can build up to torture, his phone rings.

sorry, he says, getting up. it’s tiff.

he must know from the ringtone alone, but you’re not even mad at it, you’re relieved. saved by the bell, another bit of good luck. maybe christmas is real.

uh-huh, you can hear him saying. yeah. that’s— he laughs, and you know from that laugh alone it’s something about eva. yeah, put her on. a beat, then. hey, honey. no. no, she’s right. listen, santa won’t come if you spy on him. the guy likes his privacy, okay? he’s not in it for the applause, he’s not in it for the publicity. pause. well, that’s what the cookies are for. i am being serious, that’s what they’re for. okay. who—okay. he snorts. okay, you got me. don’t tell your mother, though, okay? she really enjoys it. pause. it’s up to you. okay, i gotta go. i love you. hey. i love you.

that’s more than enough time for you to wipe your eyes on your sleeve, get all fucked up again listening to him, and wipe your eyes a second time. by the time richie sits back down, you’re basically normal.

that sounded like some saga, you say.

this jewish kid at school told all the christians that santa wasn’t real, he explains. and now she’s going around busting all the lying adults one by one.

you laugh.

they’re starting young, he says. when i was in school, they always used to make us wait until at least sixth grade before we could go around busting myths.

you’re jewish?

he shrugs. kinda sorta.

you see the opportunity to make another joke about him being zero percent italian, and you ignore it. did eva like the doll? you say instead.

yeah. i mean, it was a huge hassle, it’s so expensive i had to go halves with tiff, and i nearly had a heart attack when eva said something about kirsten cause i thought i’d got the wrong one— he starts eating again, eating soup and talking, and you don't hate it. which by the way, swedes? have the most boring american history of them all, i don’t know why they’d make a doll about that, but anyways, yeah. she loved it. he reaches across you and takes his beer back so he can drink the last dregs of it. ever since the divorce, we don’t even call it christmas eve, we just call it christmas one and christmas two. as is tradition.

he says the last three words kind of weird.

as is tradition? you repeat.

tiff and i, we don’t have a bunch of traditions from our parents, so it’s like. we make up a lot of stuff and then we say ‘as is tradition.’ cause it’s not.

i mean, you got two generations involved, so that counts.

eh, he says, drawing it out dubiously.

i got two-generations traditions, you say.

you didn’t intend to talk about your family, you weren’t thinking about that at all, you were just thinking about richie. but now you gotta sit in the silence as he decides whether or not follow up about your parents.

finally, richie says, you got a kid? he’s doing his best to be cool about it, but his voice goes up a little crazy on the last word.

no, i mean—you’re laughing. i meant me and my dad.

oh, he says, maybe a bit relieved, definitely a bit something, you can’t quite place it. oh.

i used to make us mac and cheese for christmas. with a leaf on top, like lettuce or spinach or something. cause, you know, that makes it salad.

that’s cool, he says flatly. after a second, he adds, less flat, i don’t have any traditions with my dad. i mean, he’s dead, but like before then, we never. so i think that’s cool.

you hate his dad. it’s a split-second decision, but you feel pretty confident about it.

two generations is all you need, you say. and you got eva. so it’s a tradition.

heard, he says.

when you glance over, you see the chain catching the light, gold over his dark shirt. he looks at you. you both keep eating.

eventually, you finish off two bowls of soup and a hot chocolate too, courtesy of eva’s swiss miss unicorn package. you feel a bit subdued by the ordeal of being human, but relaxed.

best christmas ever, you say.

really? richie says, like he believes it and feels bad for you.

god no, do you think i came out a dickens?

what the fuck is a dickens?

you’re illiterate, it’s okay. you look at him. you know that your eyes are a little red, but thankfully you can also see, reflected in his eyes, that he knows you're all right.

thank you, richie, you say. it’s all wrong, you shouldn’t be saying his name and you shouldn’t be saying thank you either, it’s thanks or nothing, but something about the formality feels a little heavier and therefore suited to the day. it’s getting late.

i’ll drive you? he says, and there’s a little extra question in it that you can’t bring yourself to consider.

you shake your head and get up from the table heavily, feeling a thousand years old. i’m good.

he gets up, follows you, stands there with his hands in shoved his pockets as you crouch to put on your shoes.

i wasn’t suggesting a sleepover, he says.

no, of course not, you say, and you congratulate yourself on not making it sound bitter.

unless, richie says.

you look up at him.

i have so many condoms, he says, deadpan. just. so fucking many. some of them are citrus flavored.

there he goes, saved it.

it’s not just tonight, is it? it’s not just tonight, it’s not just luck, it’s not just christmas; somehow, richie’s become…he’s figured it out, how to be with you. when to show up and when to let you go. not always, but more than enough, and he just. he wakes up and he struggles and he breaks shit and he irritates you and he calls eva and he watches youtube and he goes to bed and he wakes up and he struggles and he learns and you love him.

what a fucking time to find out. you look down and begin tying your shoes again.

you got pineapple flavor? you say.

in what world is pineapple citrus? richie says.

well, tough luck. you back up and turn around to put on your coat. for me, it’s pineapple condoms or nothing.

you’re a real high-maintenance fuck.

you laugh. michael used to like that about you, just how easy you were, or how easy you made yourself. buddy, you got no idea.

it’s been such a long day for both of you, apart and together. of course you’re getting messy, of course it’s time to go. you zip up your coat, run your hand through your hair.

let me drive you, he says again.

you wave him off. no, i need to walk. clear my head.

it’s december in chicago, fuckin pitch black—

i’ll be fine.

it’s christmas eve, are you really gonna punish me for a fucking joke? he says, and you look up, startled; you didn’t know he was upset. in retrospect, you were just focusing on avoiding his eyes, so what did you expect?

i’m not punishing you for anything, you were great. richie. you look at him straight on and steady, so he understands. a little gentle, as gentle as you feel you can get away with. you truly have to go, and there’s no resentment in it. i just need to clear my head. i’ll be fine, i’m always fine.

you never… richie trails off, eyes you, decides against finishing the sentence. you’re stubborn.

always. you give him a small smile. thanks for the soup.

goodnight.

that should be the end, but it feels unfinished. his blue eyes are alive to the possibilities when you reach out, but you just touch the chain with a fingertip where it rests over his collarbone. his right hand moves a little and you draw back, your other hand on the doorknob at once, already leaving.

two days later, the cops issue a warrant for your arrest.

[ next chapter ] [ masterlist ]

@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1, @eternallyvenus, @cerial-junkie, @jackierose902109, @shinebright2000, @scorpiolystoned — if anyone else wants to be tagged, let me know.

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #the bear fanfic #mine #readerfic #do i know you?#the bear imagine #diky #guess who's still at it? ME!!! guess who's not giving up? ME!!!!!!

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darkwing-katy · 3 months ago

Text

The Spider and the Fly Part VII

Pairing: Eventual Leland x Reader (sorta? You’ll see what I mean)

Word Count: 4,071

Summary: All you want to do is get through your online courses and keep your best friend from making bad choices in men. But there’s this creepy therapist who is absolutely insisting on you making an appointment with him. Who the hell is this Leland Townsend, and why won’t he leave you alone?!

Part seven of seven. Takes place sometime around/between/during season three.

The series is inspired heavily by my favorite poem, “The Spider and the Fly” (1829) by Mary Howitt. This poem is in the public domain.

Tagging: @primosflowergarden; @vi-er

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

—————————————————————————————

And now, dear little children, who may this story read

To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne’er give heed

It’s been a long, long time since the incident with Leland. So long that you’ve almost forgotten about all of it.

Almost.

Your traitorous brain won’t let you forget it, not completely. Every now and then, you wake up with an ache between your legs and the memory of bright blue eyes peering at you through rectangular glasses. On those days, your hand hurts a little more than usual, though the cut has long since healed into a faint scar.

You pretend you hate those moments, but it’s a lie. One that you can live with, since Betty knows nothing about it. She asked you about your therapist appointments once after she returned, but you told her that it didn’t work out, and that was the last she’d mentioned it.

Life had moved on, summer turning to fall and fall to winter. Now it was the end of spring, summertime nearly back upon you. You’re walking to a job interview—your job at the bookstore simply wasn’t enough for the rising cost of rent, especially now that Betty had to reduce her own working hours. She still contributed to rent as best as she could considering her coursework, which was nonetheless frustrating for you. But you loved your friend, and you wanted to do your best to support her in this endeavor, so here you were.

You glance up at the stout building ahead of you, your eyes pausing for a second on the massive 320 that rests above the entrance, and suck in a deep breath. Okay, (Y/N). You got this.

You stride into the building. Your interview with DF will be on the 12th floor, you see as you scan the list of companies residing in the building. You give a nod to the woman manning the front desk as you go to the elevators and press the button.

Nerves are starting to squirm in your belly again. Your hands are clammy, and you wipe them off on your black slacks. “I can do this,” you chant to yourself. “I’m good at this kinda thing.”

The ride to the twelfth floor is simultaneously too long and too short. When the doors open, you inhale another fortifying breath before stepping out. Let’s do this!

You walk past a couple of people chatting at what appears to be a lounge table and to the massive glass doors that lead to DF’s offices. There’s a woman manning what you assume is the reception desk. You go up to her. “Hi! I’m here for an interview with Sheryl?” you say.

“What’s the name?”

You give her your name. She glances at her computer, then picks up the phone on her left and dials a number. While you wait, you look at the massive flower picture that’s on the wall. There are two chairs in front of it, along with a round glass table. You nod your head at the scenery. Man, they really like glass a lot here, you think as you observe that the walls within the inner offices also seem to be made of glass.

A young woman comes out. She’s got short, dark hair and she’s wearing a green dress. “(Y/N)?” she calls, waving at you to get your attention.

You nod.

“Follow me.”

You do so, passing by a coffee bar on your right and a bunch of young adults sitting at their computers, some of them talking on Bluetooth headsets, on your left. You’re too nervous to focus on what they’re saying, but suddenly you realize you don’t know where to go from there.

The woman leading you is smiling at you. “Sheryl mentioned that you’d be coming in today. Her office is right over there.” She points at a glass door past several computer desks. “You can just go in; she’s not busy at the moment.”

Alright. Let’s do this, you think again. “Thanks.” You give her an appreciative smile. She nods before turning and walking into what you think is a larger lounge area. You briefly wish you could order yourself a coffee, but if you get the job, there’ll be plenty of time for that later. “You got this, (Y/N),” you muster under your breath one last time before saunter to the door, tug it open, and poke your head in.

There’s an older woman sitting at a large desk. She’s got long blonde hair that falls in waves over her shoulders, and she glances up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Hi. Uhm. My name’s (Y/F/N). We, uhm, had an interview for today?” You offer her a winning smile. “I know I’m a little early, but someone, uh,” you nod your head in the direction the young woman had gone, “told me I could just come right in.”

“Who?” The woman frowns, her eyebrows dipping low over her eyes.

“Uh, she had short dark hair?”

“Green dress?”

You nod. “Yep.”

“Ah. Leslie.” The woman squints at you. “What’d you say your name was?”

“(Y/F/N) (Y/L/N),” you repeat.

“Oh, yes!” The woman rises to her feet with a smile. You notice she’s wearing a black dress with a scaled red jacket that looks to be made of crocodile skin. You’re genuinely not sure if it’s real or faux, but you don’t have too much time to wonder before she offers you a hand. You rush forward to take it. Her nails are a bright red, matching her jacket. “I’m Sheryl.”

You blink at her. “Oh, you’re Sheryl? The person I talked to over email?”

She smiles at you. “That’s me.”

You smile back. She seems friendly enough. “I wasn’t expecting DF to reach out directly to me like that.”

“What can I say?” Sheryl gives an exaggerated shrug. “We’re pretty hands-on here.”

You laugh at that. “Yeah, and when I read the job description and pay, I, uhm, I couldn’t say no.”

Sheryl chuckles. “It’s a loooot of money, isn’t it?” she whispers conspiratorially, and you snort as you nod back at her. She releases your hand and motions for you to take a seat. You do, and she leans against her desk. “Well, I don’t know what exactly you were told, but honestly, there’s no need for an interview. This is just a formality to introduce myself to you.”

“Really?” you ask, confused. “I was expecting to—,”

“To tell me about yourself and why you’re qualified?” Sheryl finishes.

You nod.

She grins. Even her lipstick matches her jacket. “Yeah, there’s no need for that. You came highly recommended for the position.”

There’s something odd about the way she’s said that, and it snags at the back of your brain, but you ignore it. “Recommended by who?”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” she replies with a flippant wave of her hand, and there it is again, something odd about the way she’s saying that.

“Ooooo…kaaay,” you say instead. You clasp your hands in front of you. “So…I guess the question is what do you need from me, exactly?”

Sheryl gives you another smile, and it reminds you of something, but you can’t articulate what. “All we need is for you to fill out the paperwork,” she explains.

“And you’re sure there’s no need to talk to me? What about a background check? What if I’m a serial killer or something?”

She chuckles again. “Believe me, that wouldn’t be an issue here,” she says, and good God, why does that feel so…off? “If anything, that’d only be more impressive on your resume.”

You laugh awkwardly, unsure of what else to do. She’s joking, right? Gotta be.

She is silent for a moment, her eyes tracing over you. “You do understand what this job is, right?”

You give her a hesitant nod, but she seems to come to a conclusion that you have no clue what you’ve signed up for, so you take it upon yourself to demonstrate that you do: “I would research risks and possible exposure for DF.”

Sheryl smirks. “So basically, you’re making sure DF doesn’t accidentally fuck itself?”

Her language jars you, but you crack a smile at it. “That’s how I understood it, yeah.”

“Well, you understood it correctly. Except you’ll basically be doing the opposite, and for them.” She waves her hand again, this time towards the window that looks down onto the city.

You blink. “Them?” you ask, confused.

“Competitors,” Sheryl explains. “And…others who may not want to work with us.” She moves her hand to gesture at herself. “And then you’ll report that information to me.”

You bite your lip, suddenly wary. This sounds different from what you’d expected, and it’s a little unsettling. “And what’ll be done with that information?”

She gives you a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “We’ll use that to convince them that they do want to work with us,” is all the explanation she gives you.

You’re not an idiot. You feel your eyes narrow as you say, “You mean blackmail?” You purse your lips at her.

Sheryl shrugs. “Is that a problem?”

You open your mouth to say yes, hell yes, that’s a major fucking problem, but then you remember just how much they want to pay you to do this. “No,” you mutter. “It’s not a problem, I guess.” Betty better appreciate this.

Sheryl chuckles again. “You’ll get used to it,” she says, and she sounds like she’s trying to be reassuring, but you feel like she only half-means it.

The two of you have a moment of silence before she claps her hands together. The abrupt sound makes you jump in your seat. “So! Paperwork, and then you can start tomorrow. How does that sound?” She flashes you a smile that you return, though it feels fake, stretched awkwardly across your face.

“Sure,” you say as she walks around her desk and reaches for something. You hear a drawer open and close. “I-I mean, good. That’s, uh, tomorrow? That’s fast but…” you give her an exaggerated thumbs-up. “But alrighty then.”

Sheryl gives you an odd look, and you wonder if she’s regretting the decision to hire you already, but she sets down a thick packet of papers on the desk where you can reach them. “I’ve gotta go do something really fast, but here.” She hands you a red pen, which you accept. “I’ll be back soon.” With that, she exits, the glass door closing behind her with a soft ‘thud’.

You look at the pen she’s given you and have the strangest thought that you’re signing your soul away. But that’s ridiculous. There’s no such thing as demon contracts, no matter who likes to pretend it’s real.

You haven’t spoken to Kristen for almost a year, but some of what she’d told you about people believing in demons and stuff must have lingered in the back of your mind for you to be thinking like this.

You glance around the office, studying it, but there’s not much to look at. You heave a sigh. “Alright. Let’s do this, I guess,” you mutter under your breath.

There’s so. Much. Reading.

Your eyes are glazing over, but you’re trying to read every word because dammit, you wanna know what exactly you’re getting into here. It had seemed like an offer that was too good to be true, and you’re starting to think it might actually be so, even if you’re planning on accepting it nonetheless.

It doesn’t make you feel any better that Sheryl’s office has glass walls looking out to the other workers. You know they’re not watching you, but you feel like they are, like their eyes are staring at you, judging you for signing yourself away. Can they see your secrets? Do they know that you used to blackmail people like this for fun?

You sign your name for the sixth time.

Well, at least you know you’re gonna be really, really good at this job. You certainly have a lot of experience. It’ll be nice to get paid to do this rather than doing it on your own dime, even if it’s a little less personal.

You finish filling out the paperwork and set it back on Sheryl’s desk. It thumps onto the smooth wood, and you wonder just how many times you signed or initialed. Feels like sixty, even if it was probably only ten.

You lean back into the chair. There’s nothing more you can do now except wait for Sheryl to get back. You look at the office once more, but honestly? It’s minimalist and boring. It doesn’t seem like Sheryl’s bothered to decorate it in any way. Sure, there’s pictures on the walls, but they’re black and white landscapes. The most colorful thing in the room was Sheryl.

As you sit, you begin to drum your fingers against the sides of the chair. The stack of papers feels like it’s looking at you, judging you for being so willing to help sabotage other people. You scoff to yourself. Since when have you cared so much about this kinda thing? Even knowing what you did to Samantha hadn’t given you this much anxiety. You’re probably just overthinking it.

Though to be fair, you probably weren’t gonna tell Betty the truth about what your job entitles. She’d definitely judge you for it, even if it meant she could pursue her degree without worrying about finding a new place to live.

With a sigh, you glance out the glass walls just in time to spot Sheryl returning. She opens the door and gives you another smile, the sole pop of color in this room. “You wanna see where you’ll be working from?”

You nod and make a mental note to bring some things to accessorize your own desk tomorrow. Maybe you could bring your Samara funko pop with its cute little well. It would only be appropriate, right?

She motions for you to follow her, so you do. She takes you to a desk with a fancy computer and fairly comfortable-looking rolling chair. There aren’t cubical walls per se, but each desk has raised edges to give the illusion of privacy. “Right here is where you’ll be, (Y/N).” She motions for you to take a seat, so you do. The chair is as comfortable as it looks, which is a nice little bonus to everything. You relax your arms onto the armrests and look up at Sheryl. “I’d have someone show you how it all works,” she indicates the computer, “but you’re not in the system yet. We’ll have you in there by the time you show up tomorrow.”

You nod in acknowledgement, but you see something moving in the reflection of one of the offices across from you. You don’t know why it’s caught your eye, but it has. It’s a silhouette of someone talking to someone. You squint at it—not that it’ll help, since it’s a reflection and it’s a bit blurred, but you squint anyways. Sheryl’s still talking, something about security or ID badges or something like that, so she hasn’t noticed that you’re tuning her out as you stare at the reflection.

Silhouettes don’t typically look familiar even when they’re not impeded by glass, but this one does. The person turns away from the other person to walk in what seems to be your direction. You still can’t make out the face, but you could swear you know it.

There’s a knot tying in the pit of your stomach right now. The faint scar on your hand twinges. “Hey, Sheryl,” you blurt, cutting her off mid-sentence.

Sheryl looks annoyed at being interrupted, but she looks at you. “Yeah?”

“You said I came highly recommended. Who recommended me?”

Sheryl’s eyes flash some unidentifiable emotion. “I’m not supposed to tell you that.”

Your eyes have not moved from that silhouette. You know it. You’ve seen it before, even if the last time was almost a whole year ago. “I know, but, like, I signed the paperwork. Surely you can tell me. Was it my old boss?”

She purses her lips together, forming a thin red line. “It wasn’t him,” she admits, and there’s that nagging feeling, that itch in your brain again.

“Then who?” you ask in a firm voice that teeters on the line between polite and demanding. You don’t wait for Sheryl’s response before you whip your head around. You need to see—need to confirm that this is who you think it is. Because what are the odds—what are the fucking odds that the man behind you talking to the woman who sent you into Sheryl’s office is—

Right at that moment, he turns to look in your direction, and the grin staring back at you is none other than Leland Townsend. Your heart plunges into your stomach. He looks exactly the same as he had the last time you’d seen him.

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper.

Sheryl hears you and turns to see what the hell you’re staring at. “Hmm?” She sees Leland and huffs. “Sounds about right. You’ve met?”

You give her a dazed nod as Leland starts towards you, that ever-widening grin still plastered to his face. “Yeah.”

He’s behind you in what feels like an instant, grinning the whole damn time. “Sheryl!” he exclaims cheerfully. “You ready for our meeting?”

Sheryl makes a puzzled sound of confirmation but says nothing, and that’s when Leland turns his attention to you.

“Oh, and look who it is! (Y/N)!” he exclaims, practically dripping with feigned innocence. “Wow! I didn’t expect to see you here, of all places! Do you work here, too?”

Sheryl is looking back and forth between you two, no doubt clocking the casualness with which he’s treating you. “So you two already know each other?” she says to him.

His grin morphs into a smirk. “Ohhhh, yes. We’re quite well acquainted. Aren’t we, (Y/N)?” He tilts his head at you, but your words are gone, locked away somewhere deep inside of your throat. What the fuck would you even say, anyways?

You give a dull nod, and Leland’s smirk now looks more like a sneer, especially from this angle.

Something clicks in your brain. “It’s you, isn’t it?” you say, and Leland raises his eyebrows at you. “You’re the one who recommended me for this.”

He winks at you. “Guilty as charged. But we needed the best person for the job, and you’re it. She filled out the paperwork, right?” he asks Sheryl, though he’s not looking away from you. Sheryl makes a mm-hmm sound. “Good.” He stoops a little, bringing his face closer to yours, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Gotcha, he’s saying.

The glint is triumphant, hungry, even. You lick your lips again, your heart thudding in your ears. You’re tempted to stand up and walk away—bolt like the hounds of Hades himself are chomping at your heels—but then how the hell would you explain this to Betty? Rent is coming, and unless you take this job, you’re both screwed. Sheryl’s email had found you at just the right moment to save both of your asses. You’d thought it was convenience, mere coincidence. But now?

Coincidence? Ha! You think the fuck not. This entire fucking thing was planned by him.

And now you’re stuck here, and Leland fucking knows it.

He straightens. “Well! I wouldn’t want to intrude on the tour,” he declares, finally looking away from you. “But it’ll be nice to catch up later, won’t it?”

You say nothing. You try to dig deep, try to summon the rage you used the last time you spoke to Leland, but it’s not there. What happened to it? Where’s all the determination? The ballsyness of not putting up with his shit?

It’s gone. There’s nothing there but despair. He’s won. He’s caught you at last.

He seems to take your silence as agreement, because he flashes you another winning smile. “I’ll be waiting for you in your office,” he tells Sheryl, who nods, though her eyes are rapidly flicking from you to Leland and back, over and over again. “Take your time. But not too much time. And I’ll see you tomorrow, (Y/N),” he adds.

Somehow you manage to summon enough emotion to glower at him as he saunters away, humming You’ll Be Back from Hamilton, of all fucking things. Sheryl tries to say something, but you can’t hear her. You can’t hear anything now. There’s a low buzzing sound in your ears that’s drowning her out, drowning out everything, really, everything except his footsteps as he walks away.

When Leland goes into her office and the door shuts behind him, his hold on you is suspended, if temporarily, and you can finally tear your eyes away from him. Sheryl’s giving you a worried look. “Are you okay?” she’s asking, probably for the third or fourth time.

You stare at her, mouth slightly agape, then you rise to your feet fast enough to send your chair rolling backwards. “I have to go,” you say numbly.

She blinks at you. “Okay. Well, uh. We’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You swallow. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

With that, you leave your desk. You can feel Sheryl’s eyes on you as you walk out, but you don’t turn around. If you turn, you’ll end up walking straight to him, and you refuse to give him that satisfaction. So you put one foot in front of the other until you’re back at the elevator, and then until you’re back outside.

You’ll Be Back is stuck in your head the whole fucking time.

The sky is a bright blue, the sun shining down with nonconsensual warmth. You hate it. You want it to be grey and cloudy. You want it to mirror the turmoil that’s roiling in your soul right now.

“Fuck!” you hiss as you bring your hand to your face. It’s shaking. “Fuck fuck fuck!!!”

You’re breathing heavily as you walk, trying and failing to blink away hot tears. Where you’re going, you have no clue, but you’re getting the hell outta there for now. You walk until you can’t see the ground anymore through the thick haze of tears, and then you stagger to a small bench. Apparently there’s a park within walking distance of DF’s offices. “Fuuuuuuck.”

He caught me, you think. He fucking caught me. And now I have a whole fucking year of dealing with him all fucking over again.

You look up at the sky and seriously consider staring at the sun until your eyes burn out. But then you won’t be able to see anything else, and that seems a little extreme just to eradicate Leland Townsend from your life.

It takes a long, long time, but eventually, your breathing returns to normal. “Okay. It’s fine. It’s just a year. I can deal with him for a year.”

It’s a lie, but maybe if you repeat it enough times, you’ll believe it.

You close your eyes. “It’s only for a year. Only for a year. I can deal with him for only a year.”

Holy fuck, why the hell does he still look so handsome?

“Only. A. Year.”

And then you can run far, far away from him, from DF. You can save up and find a job elsewhere, away from that leer, away from those gorgeous blue eyes, away from that love of violence—that fierce desire to make him bleed. Now that you’re away from DF, your emotions are flooding back, filling you with fury at being conned into working there. Fury at the audacity of him recommending you for a job like this.

Is it actually fury if you still want to jump his bones and finish what you started almost a year ago?

Your cheeks heat as you remember that night, how you’d thrusted your tongue down his throat, how he’d grabbed your ass while you tried to pull off his suit. How in that moment, all you could think of was getting him inside of you, how maybe, just maybe, that would get rid of these dark, dirty thoughts in your head.

You feel a familiar aching between your thighs and groan in frustration.

“Holy fucking shit, I’m screwed.”

Unto an evil counselor, close heart and ear and eye

And take a lesson from this tale of the Spider and the Fly

———————————————————————————

Aaaand that’s the end, folks! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing (I was literally fixing things in this chapter eight hours ago, so talk about last-minute!).

#kate writes #reader insert #leland townsend #leland townsend. X reader #evil cbs #evil the series #this is what i meant by ‘sorta’ in the pairing description lol #evil paramount #he’s so creepy and I’m feral for it #wow look at me actually finishing another story

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starry-nights-garden · 1 year ago

Text

Wooyoung ✧ Blank Pages

✧ Ateez Wooyoung x gn!reader ✧ words: ~1.3k ✧ genre: fluff, comfort, some humor, Jung Wooyoung being the perfect human he is ✧ warnings: none, (mentions of him running his hand through reader's hair)

Desc.: Writing is your passion, but sometimes things in life happen that render you unable to do so, leaving you feeling quite depressed as a result. And sometimes you’re lucky that you have someone on your side who manages to distract you from all those bad feelings.

You’re sitting at the desk in your room, fingertips tracing the paper of your notebook and following the lines filled with words in your handwriting. A bittersweet smile sits on your lips as you reread your own stories and poems, written mostly in black or blue ink. The very first pieces in this book must be well over a year old, while the last one was written probably a month ago. It was the last thing you’ve written, actually. Because ever since then you’ve been facing some heavy writer’s block, probably caused by the stress that some unlucky circumstances have been inflicting on you ever since around that time. You remember the way you felt like you had to squeeze the words out of your hands, in order for them to flow onto the paper, and the exhaustion that overcame you afterwards was new. Sure, writing requires some brain juice and energy, but usually it’s more of a content, rewarding feeling you get after you finish a piece. However, this time it was different, and ever since then you’ve found yourself unable to write more than a few words, and even those come with a disproportionate amount of exhaustion.

Of course it makes you sad, though you’re trying to accept that you just need to be patient and wait for things to get better, so your mind will be less clouded and your heart won’t feel so heavy all the time. Still, you love writing, and the urge to write is growing stronger each day, even though everytime you sit down to actually do it, you run into the same walls you always do recently, and in the end you have to admit defeat against the empty paper. Caught up in your thoughts, you let out a long breath.

“Why are you sighing so much again?” A voice suddenly resounds behind you, followed by footsteps leading to where you’re sitting. You have been so sunken into your worries that you must not have heard your boyfriend, who has just placed one hand onto the backrest of your chair and is now peeking over your shoulder after entering your room. “You’re writing?” Wooyoung guesses, but he corrects himself as he quickly assesses the situation. “Trying to?”

“Just reading my old stuff,” you retort, followed by a bitter laugh. “I feel like even just picking up a pen these days requires way too much effort…” He remains silent for a while. You’ve talked about this with him before, so it’s not like you need to thoroughly explain how you feel or why you feel like that. You know he understands, and that there isn’t really anything he can say to help you with this. Still, he makes you look up at him by pressing a short kiss onto your temple, and you watch as he moves to the right side of the desk, crouching down not far from you. He puts his hands on the wooden surface, and between them his chin, resting his head there as he glances up at your face.

“Once upon a time… write that!” he suddenly urges you on, shooting your pens a look, and then another one when you don’t immediately follow his instructions, this time with more emphasis.

“What are you even trying to achieve…?” you ask, and though you can somehow imagine what the answer will be - and also that his plan isn’t going to work - you still can’t help but smile at the way he’s making an effort for your sake.

“Just do what I say!!” he answers. “Trust me.”

“Fine…” you mumble, reaching out for a random pen and turning to an empty page. A heavy sigh leaves your lips, but Wooyoung doesn’t let himself be bothered by you already losing faith.

“Once upon a time, there was a handsome- no, a super handsome!!! young man, who…” You cut him off.

“I’m not writing a story about you,” you complain, shooting him a half strict, half amused glance.

“Why would it be about me?!” an enraged Wooyoung throws back, and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Oh, so you wouldn’t describe yourself as a super handsome young man?”

“No-. I-… fine, maybe it was supposed to be about me,” he eventually admits. “Can’t you write stories about your boyfriend once in a while?” he adds, whining.

“I already wrote a lot about you-”

“A few things!! And never the stuff I suggest!” he keeps complaining, the playful sparkle in his eyes only growing with each exchange of words between you two.

“Well, writing about a spaghetti-hero is ridiculous… what even is that supposed to be? I still don’t get it,” you laugh. “A superhero who cooks really delicious spaghetti? Or-”

“His beams are made of spaghetti! The ones he shoots - like this!” Wooyoung gets up, posing like spiderman when he’s about to shoot his spiderwebs at something, accompanied by sound effects produced by himself. “But also,” he leans against the desk now, “I was half asleep and kinda drunk when I said that. Don’t use the weird things I say!”

“Alright,” you answer. “But what you suggested right now is weird too.”

“Oh, you think it’s weird that you’re dating a super handsome guy?” He already has his next comeback ready, and though he’s trying to look offended, he can’t keep his face from forming a childlike grin any longer, which in turn makes you let out a short laugh too. Before you can respond, he suddenly points at you, exclaiming, “But it cheered you up, didn’t it?”

“I guess…” you say through a smile, before you set down the pen and get up to wrap your arms around his body. Even despite the happiness he sparked deep in your chest, your shoulders feel heavy, and you’re thankful when he returns the embrace and holds you close, so you don’t have to support your entire weight by yourself. “It’s okay,” you mumble with your face hidden in his chest. “I don’t have the capacities to write these days. I’ll just have to wait until things pass…” He brings one of his hands up to your head, combing his fingers through your hair carefully, before his lips meet your forehead. This time he drags the kiss out for a bit, letting his touch linger on your skin.

“I know…” he says, and you can clearly tell the way he swallows a “but”. Instead of expressing how sorry he feels for you and how much he hates seeing you like this, he goes for words more helpful than that. “Let’s do something together then,” he suggests, taking a step to the side and putting one arm around your waist. “We can make dinner together, or watch something if you’re too tired for that.” To be quite honest with yourself, you’re too tired for either of those, but at the same time you know he has a million ways to cheer you up and to charge your exhausted batteries with some power, so you nod.

“Dinner sounds good,” you say, and he walks you out of your room, giving you a little push on the back in the process. Just from that gesture alone you feel fresh energy running through your veins, and you add, “What do you wanna make?”

“…Spaghetti?” Wooyoung suggests after thinking for a moment, and you laugh.

“So long as you don’t do anything stupid with them…” As if that was his cue, he lets go of you and jumps a few steps back, pretending to shoot spaghetti-beams against the walls of your apartment. The ridiculous scene unfolding right in front of your eyes causes you to burst out laughing.

“Like this?” he questions.

“Yes. Please don’t do that,” you plead, and he gives you a serious look, pretending to think for a while. Eventually, he seems to have reached a conclusion as his expression returns to a playful smile and he grabs your hand.

“Alright. But only if I get a kiss!” he demands, and you have to chuckle once again.

“I think that can be arranged,” you mumble in response as you reach out to put your arms around his shoulders, and you draw closer to him.

#ateez fluff #ateez drabbles #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung drabbles #wooyoung fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #fluff

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