#swap cross-chain | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starktonyx · 20 days ago

Text

Moral of the story - John Walker x reader

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

Word count: 5.6k

Requested by anon: John Walker x reader based on the song Moral of the Story by Ashe . They used to be married with no kids, after tfaws she left him only to come across him during the events of thunderbolts. John attempts to reconnect with her as he never stopped loving her.

Description: You never expected to be blindly sent to kill your ex-husband, but when you cross paths again in looping shame rooms, it’s like going through the pain all over again.

Tags/Warnings: Language. So much ANGST. John being an emotional rollercoaster. Shame rooms. Lots of fighting and regret.

Note: This turned out longer than expected but I loved writing this (my angsty heart is thriving) I'm currently obsessed with this man so expect more about him.

Masterlist

John Walker liked to think he always had the answer to everything. Or at least, most of the time. His brain ran on tactical planning, constant gears grinding with strategy and precision. He was the guy who accounted for every variable, every angle, every possible risk.

But right now? He had no idea how the hell he'd ended up in this situation. Out of all the threats he could've anticipated, out of all the variables he could've ever considered, he sure as hell never expected one of them to be named Bob.

Yes, Bob.

The weird guy that popped out of nowhere, in a bunker buried in the middle of nowhere.

That clean slate Valentina had promised him seemed to be slipping from his fingers by the minute. It was the last thing he could afford himself to screw up, with all his past failures clinging to him like heavy chains.

And yet here he was, stuck with the blonde he'd been sent to kill, a phasing assassin, and Bob.

Middle of fucking nowhere.

"Come on Bobby, you missed legs, arms and torso day" John mocked him, as he pulled him out the elevator shaft they were using to escape.

But the moment Bob's hand touched his, the world around him melted into a black shadow as it shifted around him.

The once warm air went stiff, cold.

When he turns around, he's suddenly back in his bedroom. Those godforsaken walls he once shared with you.

He takes a step forward, his pulse accelerating, and he's met with a scene his mind only replays when he isn't punching someone, when it gets too quiet.

And the first thing he sees, is you.

The ghost of you standing by the bedroom door in front of him, arms folded tight over your chest like they were the only thing holding you together.

It was too quiet, almost, the only sound being the zipper of a duffel bag his past self had thrown onto the bed.

"You're leaving already?" you past self broke the silence, voice so soft it barely reached him.

You didn't sound angry. You didn't even look like you had the energy to fight, not anymore.

John takes a step forward, watching how his past self didn't even throw a glance your way. The prick was too busy yanking dirty clothes from the bag and swapping them out for clean ones.

"You just got here" you mumbled, quieter now when he didn't answer.

John remembered this moment differently. He remembered you nagging, picking up a fight. But standing here now, watching like some unwilling spectator in a memory he didn't want to relive he really saw it, saw ... you.

Staring at him with glossy eyes, looking like not one single bone in your body wanted to fight him that day. You just stood there, still hoping that somehow this time it would land, that he would listen.

"Yeah, well" He muttered, eyes locked on a dirty torn off pair of boots he needed to get rid off. "Val needs me again. You already know how it fucking goes."

A quiet sob was caught in your throat. He saw now how you tried to swallow it, like you'd done a hundred times before.

"I haven't seen you in weeks, John. Is it really that easy for you to leave me? Every goddamn time?" you said quietly.

And fuck, he cursed when he heard it, it didn't even sound bitter. It was desperate, tired.

He scoffed, and let out that bitter, dismissive laugh he always pulled when he didn't want to feel anything. "Jesus Christ, are we doing this again?"

He didn't stop packing, like the answer to all his problems was hidden in a pair of socks rather than just turning around to look at you.

"Doing what, John? You choosing to leave every time instead of fucking talking to me?"

There it was, the anger he remembered.

"Then yes, John, we're doing it again. It's always your need to feel important. Like if you're not out there 'saving the world' you're nothing in here" you finally snapped. The ache in your chest made your words feel sour as they left your mouth.

That's what got under his skin. He saw it in the way his past self stiffened, jaw tightening with that same goddamn temper he could never quite control.

"You think I like doing this? You think I like risking my ass every time to come home to this? To another one of your guilt trips?" He's yelling at this point, throwing the holster in his hand back in his bag.

You looked like you'd been slapped.

"This?" you repeated stunned, pointing at yourself with your hands. "You mean me? I'm this'"

He turned to the door then, finally. But not to deny it, or to apologize or to even spare one single glance at you. It was to grab a jacket hanging on the doorknob.

He didn't say anything. Just grabbed his duffel bag and tossed it over his shoulder like the argument was some inconvenience he could just walk away from.

He keeps pretending to ignore you when he walks past you by the door, but a hand pressed to his chest stops his getaway.

"This is the last time I'm asking you to stay" You warned him. The lump in your throat betrayed you, what you wanted to sound firm came out like a child plea.

He didnt even flinch. He brushed it off and kept walking, thinking he'd come back home in a day or two, bring some takeout and fuck it out like always.

"Jonathan..." Your voice sobbed his name as he made his way to the front door.

Yet still, he never looked back. And neither did you.

That was the day you gave up on him. He remembers coming back a few days later, your favorite takeout in hand, only to find a half empty closet, empty drawers.

An empty home.

And now? Now it burned him watching it from the outside. Watching you blink away tears while he was too busy being an asshole.

His eyes burned, as his heart clawed its way up into a painful knot his throat.

He snaps back to reality when Yelena calls out to him. All eyes watching him, but his were locked in the tempting elevator's dark void.

What the fuck are you doing, John?

They’ll see right through your bullshit.

"Im fine" He said, a little too quick for comfort.

But with a plastic smile plastered on his face, his mask falls back into place like muscle memory.

Once again, how the hell did he end up in this situation?

And because karma seemed to have fun making John Walker's life even more miserable, he'd ended up tied in a half collapsed gas station.

Hostage to none other than Bucky Barnes.

Naturally, he just couldn't help himself to mock Bucky's absurd political position. Though in his defense, the bastard kept gettting on his nerves. They already knew each other, so why was Bucky being such an idiot about the whole Bob situation?

So John did what he always does. He fucked around and, as usual, found out.

"Yes. I know you, John" Bucky’s tone was calm, but the hint of a smirk hid behind his words. "And you've made your choices. I know it's been hard since your wife left you, but that is no one's fault but yours"

The cruel words rolled out his tongue like he's been waiting to throw them in his face since he found him in the blown up limo they'd use to escape.

John just stares at him for a second, then his eyes drift to a particular paint chipping spot on the wall.

Yelena turned towards him, lips parted in surprise.

'I've got a gorgeous wife waiting for me at home' she remembered him saying it back in the bunker.

Liar.

Yelena had believed him back there. She knew a thing or two about John Walker, having read his file, recalled your name and picture being printed out next to 'affiliations'.

Must've been exhausting carrying that rage for two, was her first thought, but she wouldn't say it out loud. Not when he was giving her that kicked puppy look.

Cause he didn't shy away from her eyes, didn't say a thing. All he could do was give a small, tight shrug that said it all: add it to the fucking list of things I've screwed up.

Yelena didnt press further.

He was grateful for that, and for Ava being too busy bickering with Alexei to pester him any further about the matter.

But then, Bucky's stance shifted.

"Shhh" he hissed, hand going up to his lips. Alexei and Ava immediately stopped talking.

In a different occasion John could've laughed at the sight of Bucky Barnes looking like a guard dog about to bite, but if he was tensing up like that, it couldn't mean anything good for anyone. So he listened.

That's when he heard it too. An almost undetectable soft thump, but his enhanced hearing catches it. It was the slight creek of metal, straight above them.

"Someone's on the roof" John said at the same time as Bucky.

Everyone looked up. But before anyone could think about what it could be, the ceiling exploded.

The roof came crashing down in a cloud of smoke and ash. The room burst in chaos between shouting and coughing, debris flying everywhere as a smoke grenade rolled past their feet. All John could see was the flicker of Yelena's widow bites glowing blue as the haze blinded the room.

Then, a pair of boots landed hard on the floor.

He hears some struggle between Bucky and the unknown intruder, and then a thud of heavy metal hitting the floor. It must've been Bucky's arm slamming against the concrete.

Someone had taken him down.

"I'm not here for you" the intruder said, a woman's voice muffled by a mask.

John instantly frowned. Even with the sound of debris falling down and the fighting in the room that muffled voice sounded familiar to him.

"I don't care" Bucky growled back.

The fight went on, blows landing hard and fast. Whoever she was, was determined to take him out.

But Bucky was the fucking Winter Soldier.

John feels Yelena drop next to him, then what must've been Ava falling unconscious as well, as the smoke hit their systems.

"Lena!" Alexei shouts.

"Okay now, what the fuck is going on?" John choked out, coughing.

He hears the fight halt for a second when he spoke.

The intruder recognized the voice. His voice.

You recognized his voice.

Bucky got the upper hand at the distraction, catching your wrist mid swing. He slams you to the ground with a quick motion, pinning you down with his knee and pressing his metal hand against your throat.

You gasped, struggling, eyes wide with fear under the mask. Next thing you knew his gun was pointed at your head.

As the dust cleared enough for John to see the scene, his face turns to horror.

He sees the mask, and immediately knows.

You're about to get blasted into next week by Bucky.

"Bucky–Stop! Stop! It's Y/N!"

John broke his cuffs in one go, his arms fighting against the bent rod holding him back.

Bucky froze, confused. He ripped off your mask, and there you were, gasping for air. Still beneath his knee, throat red where his hand had been.

"Shit" Bucky breathed, when he recognized you. But before he could lift his weight off you, John tackled him to the ground.

The girls jolted back to consciousness at once. Coughing as they sat up.

"What the hell is going on?" Yelena rasped, seeing John on top of Bucky and you standing beside them.

"Man come on, I didn't know it was her!" Bucky snapped, twisting beneath John to shove him off.

You sat up in your spot on the floor, coughing, one hand still braced against your throat.

And then you saw him, that voice you heard. God, it had been years.

"John?" you said, voice hoarse. You wished it really wasn't him.

He pried his eyes off Bucky without loosening his grip, and half turned to you.

"Oh, you have to be kidding me" You curse, a hand covering your face.

It was really him.

You pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the pain. "Get off him you idiot, I'm fine"

John didn't argue. Just got up and backed off, hands on his hips.

Everyone stared at him like he'd just grown second head. Why didn't he protest?

Bucky immediately got to his feet, annoyed, brushing dust from his shirt.

"So ... who even are you?" Ava asked. She was still tied up and this was getting annoying.

"Y/N Walker," Yelena replied, the name burned into her memory from that file.

"That's not my name anymore," you snapped, too fast, too sharp.

John's jaw clenched, eyes going back to that same chipped spot on the wall.

"Wait, you were his wife?" Ava asked, incredulous. "What, Steve Rogers wasn't available?"

Bucky bit his tongue to keep himself from saying something.

"Ava..." Yelena warned, voice low.

As much as Yelena might've loved to take a jab at Walker herself, she didn't, his expression had left a feeling on her chest that stuck to her more than it should've.

"No but really, where'd you even find this guy?" Ava pressed on, like the idea of you marrying John Walker had personally offended her.

You turned slowly, your glare enough to shut her up for half a second.

"Give me a fucking break, Ava. When you're young, you fall in love with the wrong people sometimes." you snapped, without even thinking.

The words tasted like regret as soon as they came out. And you knew the way John stiffened meant they landed like a blade on him.

His gaze burned the side of your head.

If he'd only looked at you like that then.

"Is no one going to mention she tried to kill Mr. Soldier?" Alexei chimed in, at least the drama was interesting.

"I wasn't going to kill him," you muttered, rolling your eyes. "I just needed to knock him out long enough to get rid of you—"

You pause, the pieces clicking together.

"Goddammit. Valentina." You muttered under your breath.

That bitch. She'd really sent you to kill your ex husband without even telling you. What is he going to think about you? That this is what you'd turned into?

"Wait–you work for Valentina now?" John asked, like the words physically hurt, like he couldn't believe that's the path you had taken.

"It's not like that, John," you sighed, suddenly aware of how many eyes were watching. "I was angry at everything. At you. I figured... if running helped you escape your life, maybe it would help me too."

He didn't speak, but you saw it in his face. The guilt, the disbelief.

Had Val gotten to you the same way she got to him?

"She told me she lost a facility to some rogue agents" you explained, more to yourself than to anyone else.

"Yeah" Yelena cut in, "Because she tried to kill us."

You blinked. And suddenly, it all made sense.

You turned back to John.

“She didn't tell me you were one of them."

Your eyes locked on his, for some reason needing him to believe you. To see the truth in you, if nothing else. He barely nodded, but it was enough.

And then, from the corner, Ava scoffed.

"Pfft... perfect family" Ava muttered under her breath, shaking her head at the lie he'd told.

It had been perfect once, you thought. The dates. The proposal. The wedding. The honeymoon. The house with the porch swing.

The high school sweethearts who got married right after graduation because you couldn't keep your hands off each other.

The partying, the late night drives, the making out in parking lots, it was reckless and "romantic", all that was okay as teenagers.

But running wild has a way of turning volatile.

And then suddenly you were grown ups, trying to build a life, a home, a future. But your boy? he only knew how to fight. Maybe for the country. Maybe with you. Maybe both.

That's what he loved, really. The fighting. The heat.

Screaming, slamming doors and then fucking it off was the usual. The real break? Was when there was no more yelling, the unbearable silence.

Silence in a home you thought was built on love. Turns out it was just paper house you burned out.

All that "marry your high school sweetheart, build a dream life behind a stupid white picket fence" bullshit?

Propaganda. Nothing more than that, a fraud.

You weren't perfect, you knew that. Maybe you were even selfish. But was it selfish to want to be wanted?

To want John to look at you like your company meant more than his next mission?

It didn't seem fair.

You thought you had your lives figured out. But then he was made Captain America. You were there when he went to the army. When he lost people. When the world turned its back on him.

But when he got the serum? It was different.

All that pressure. The eyes on him. Expectations he could never live up to, no matter how right he tried to follow the orders.

And he tried. God, he tried. But the weight of it all twisted something in him.

He started carrying it alone like he had to. Like letting you see the cracks would make them real. He stopped talking, started shutting you out.

And in the end, the silence between you became permanent.

So it wasn't the fight, the heat, or that stupid shield what got to you.

It was the quiet between two people who forgot how to ask each other for help.

—

It all happened too quickly. Even for John.

One second you were helping a little boy who fell, the next he saw you dive straight to push Yelena, shoving her away from a collapsed beam.

You barely dodge it.

But now there you were, in the middle of the chaos, standing directly in Sentry's line of sight.

John saw the way your body stiffened. You knew it. And he knew it too.

You made eye contact with him, just long enough to hold the blue of his eyes. That look, carved into his memory forever, like you were trying to memorize his face, like this would be the last time you'd see him.

He was horrified. He wanted to scream. He did scream your name so loud, so broken, it tore through the chaos and made the others flinch. But not even his enhanced speed could reach you fast enough.

One second you were there, and then the next ... nothing.

You turned to nothing more than a black shadow spilling on the ground.

John stopped dead in his tracks, wide eyes staring at the shadow where you stood. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what he just saw.

No. This wasn't happening to him again.

The ringing in his ears drowned out the screaming around him.

Not again. Please, not again.

It was Lemar. It was Afghanistan. It was everything all over again.

It was you, gone.

No, this couldn't be real.

He didnt give Bucky enough time to grab him. He didn't even think twice about it. He ran straight into the void, his footsteps so heavy they tore through the pavement, cracking it beneath his boots.

All he knew is that he couldn't fail at another thing in his life.

When darkness surrounded his eyesight, he crashed onto a wall. His ragged breath was the only thing he could hear as he came to his senses, and realized he was thrown into the same memory, that same room he had stepped in before.

"You're leaving already?"

Your voice behind his back startled him, and he whipped around expecting to see you. The real you. But it was your ghost.

"No, fuck that" John growled, marching forward. "I'm not watching this again."

He grabbed the shoulders of his past self who kept stuffing clothes into the bag like it wasn't costing him everything.

"Look at her, you fucking idiot!" He yelled at himself, shaking his body. “She’s right there!”

His past self looks at him with that same smug, distant, uncontrolled anger he used on everyone else.

John barely had time to react before he was spun around and yanked into a chokehold by himself. His arms crushed his windpipe like a vice.

"Should've done that when you could Johnny" Past John muttered coldly.

John fights to free himself from the chokehold, kicking wildly, clawing at his own arms, struggling against his own brutal strength.

He could feel his breath giving out.

"She’s not here anymore, John" You said, and if felt like adding salt to the wound.

This was it. This was the punishment. Watching himself ruin everything and then being choked by the same hands.

And then, it stopped.

The grip vanished. He collapsed onto the carpet, coughing, gasping for air.

The scene resets.

"You're leaving already?"

"No, no, no" He grunts, dragging himself up from the floor, looking around for a way out.

He spins, breathless. "Nice place, Bobby” he mutters bitterly under his breath, looking around like a caged animal.

He slams himself into the wall next to him, bent shield first. Nothing. The plaster doesn't even crack.

I have to find her. Where is she?

"Come on, baby. Where are you?" He spins again, searching for something, anything. A door, a window, a crack in reality.

His eyes catch on two mirrors standing side by side against the far wall. They shouldn't be there, they weren't before.

Both reflecting something different from what they were supposed to.

Two different scenes.

He steps towards the first one and sees those fucking pillars. The blood stain on the concrete. The day Lemar had–no. He turned his face away violently, he'd save that one for his nightmares.

He turns his eyes to the other mirror and catches the sight of an office. Your lawyers office.

He finds a silhouette across the room, watching the scene unfold on repeat. It’s you. The real you.

He puts his bent shield in front of him and pushes through the glass, landing hard in a new memory.

The crash doesn't startle you. You stand frozen, eyes glazed, watching the scene replay again, the end of your marriage looping in front of you like a broken film reel. Your back is to him.

John doesn't move forward, he can't.

He feels like throwing up when he sees it. The mahogany walls. The glass table. That goddamn vanilla air freshener like this wasn't the worst moment of your lives.

The moment he signed the papers.

You were separated by that long glass table. You sat beside your lawyer, hands fiddling in your lap, eyes glued on him. He was across from you, beside his lawyer.

And worst of all, his past self doesn't look at you. Not even now.

He just sat there, head hung low as he fiddled with the corner of the page. Your fresh signature next to his empty spot mocked him.

He'd told himself that day he couldn't take your angry eyes. But looking now he sees the truth. You weren't angry. You were grieving.

Hoping he'd just meet your eyes one last time. Like maybe if he did, you could still fix it. Maybe he'd remember how he used to look at you, like you were everything.

Like he still had some love left for you.

The pen next to the papers laid untouched for too long. He was dragging it out.

"We just need your signature, Mr. Walker, and we'll be settled" your lawyer said. Her voice slices through the tension like a knife.

It made him flinch, of course she was in a rush. For her, it was another Tuesday. For you, it was the end of the world.

And for him, it was losing the love of his life.

He gathered the guts to finally reach for the pen, signed with one quick stroke, and tossed it back onto the table. The glass cracked where it fell.

Then came the screech of his chair, echoing off the polished floor, and the sound of his boots walking away.

The scene restarts.

John takes a shaky step forward. "Hey" he whispers, voice rough. You flinch. "It wasn't supposed to end like that"

"You just ... wouldn't look at me" You reply, your back still turned away.

"I couldn't" He blurts. "I couldn't see you not wanting me anymore. Wanting to end it all"

You spin around, voice breaking with anger. "Look at my face, John. Did I look like I wanted to end it?–I waited. I thought if you just looked at me, maybe we could salvage something. But you didn't. You never did"

He can't speak.

God, he'd thought about that day a thousand times. About every way he could've stopped it, every word he should've said. But right now? that you're in front of him, sobbing and shaking, he was speechless, too ashamed.

"I tried to be there for you. After the captain America mess, Lemar, the government turning their back on you" You cry, remembering all the shit they put him through. "But you kept pushing me away, like being out there was the only place you mattered. Like having me wasn't enough for you."

"It wasn't like that" he said, shaking his head. "After everything I ruined, the field was the only place I felt like I was doing something right."

You cut him with just one line.

"I'm sorry our home didn't feel like that to you."

The pain in your voice hits him like a train. His pathological need to feel useful, needed, like his skills still held some value, had already taken so much. Then he gave it the last thing that still loved him. You.

"I used to think I knew everything about you" you whisper, shaking your head. "But then you got the serum and it turns I never really knew you. God, I really tried to."

You wipe your eyes, and John feels the earth drop from under him.

"I know I made too many mistakes. But it was real" he says, desperate. "You did know me, you loved me as much as I loved you."

He still remembered everything. The way your laughter filled the room after he made a stupid joke. The way your hands always found his, in crowds, in private, even in your sleep. The way you looked at him like he was worth saving, even when he wasn't sure he was.

"We were never what they made us out to be" you said, bitter. "We thought we were in love, but we were really just in pain."

You lie. Because it's the only way left to protect yourself.

Because you still remember too.

The way his arms felt around you, safe, strong, like the world couldn't touch you as long as he held on. The rasp in his voice when he was half asleep, mumbling nonsense against your neck. The way he made love to you like it was the only way he knew how to say I'm still here.

And the way he looked at you, like you were the one good thing in a world that had taken so much from him.

But you also remembered when it started to change, when the look in his eyes started to fade. The never ending fighting. How the conflict just kept escalating, becoming bigger than it should've.

And it hurt like hell.

He wants to punch a wall. To throw himself into that void he'd seen earlier. He sees right through you, he knows you're lying. He knows you remember as much as he does.

And the scene kept playing behind you, over and over.

"No" He snapped. "We loved each other. I loved you. I still fucking do."

He points at himself with both hands, and that's when you see it.

A glint of silver poking out under his left glove. His wedding ring.

And that's what breaks you.

Because you can't answer. You can't admit you still love him too, not after all he's done. Not when he still wears the symbol of a promise he broke.

He steps forward, hesitating and you turn your face away, but he doesn't stop, not this time. Cause all you ever needed was for him to stay, to fight for you the same way he fought out there.

And now? He would crawl to the ends of the earth if you asked.

So he keeps walking, until he's in front of you.

Your hands cover your face as the sobs tear out of your chest, and his arms wrap around you without hesitation. One hand on your back, the other pulling you into him as he rests his chin on your head.

Your cries break against him.

How could he have hurt you like this?

You don't know how much time passes as he holds you. How many times you heard the pen crack the glass. All you felt was the pressure of his arms wrapped around you.

And slowly, your sobs soften. All that's left is the quiet shake of your chest against his.

"I'm sorry" his voice cracked the silence. This time, he means it with everything he has left in him.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

Because what do you even say when the apology comes years too late? When the damage has already carved itself into the walls of who you are?

So you just stand there. Wrapped in arms that used to mean home. Sinking into a chest that once felt like safety. Trying to remember how it used to feel.

And maybe that's the tragedy, that after everything this is the closest you've felt to him in years.

And it wasn't enough, not now not ever.

“Please…” he breathes, his voice scraping at the back of his throat. “Please, just… let me try to make things right.” his voice cracks, it’s raw.

And for a second, you freeze. Just long enough to feel it, something you wanted to hear too long ago.

Then you pull away, not harsh, but before he can say more.

You don't want to hear it, not his pain, not his regret, not his late promises.

But his hand catches yours.

“Don’t leave me again, please.” His eyes search yours, desperate.

“John, you left me first” You shake your head, pulling your hand but he doesn’t let go.

“I don’t know if I can fix what I broke. And I know I lost the right to ask for anything from you. But if there’s a part of you, even a small one that still thinks of me when it’s quiet, then let me try. Cause I sure as hell think about you all the damn time”

You look at him, and it’s like he finally lets you see through him. Like he finally opened up the gates he shut on your face all those years ago.

“I was so scared” he admits, eyes looking to the ground. “Of all the weight, of failing, of not being enough for that shield or for you. And I didn’t know how to say it without sounding weak. So I fought everything instead, even…even you.”

“I would give anything just to go back to before I fucked it all up. To that night in the kitchen, when you asked if I still saw you in my future… and I stayed quiet.”

You feel something twist in your chest at that memory, the way his silence echoed louder than any fight you had before.

“I should’ve said yes. God, I should’ve said yes.”

There’s too much in you, too much pain, too much tired, too much history.

But for one second, you let yourself look at him. And it’s just your John in front of you. Bruised and begging.

And maybe that’s what love looks like sometimes.

Just the quiet, broken voice of someone asking for a second chance, even when they know they don’t deserve one.

Your throat feels tight, that fight in the kitchen.

You remember the way you leaned against the counter, arms crossed over your chest, trying not to break while your heart thudded like a war drum.

“Do you still see me in your future, John?”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you with eyes that didn’t hold an answer.

And now here he was, years later. Begging to rewrite a chapter that had already been printed and bound in the pages of your life.

You take your hand back, gently this time.

“You always had perfect timing” you say quietly, voice steadier than you feel. “Just never when it mattered.”

His hands twitch, like he’s ready to beg, to reach, to hold on, but you shake your head.

“I don’t know what this is anymore,” you whisper. “What is left of us, or if there’s anything left at all.”

His silence says more than words ever could. You let it stretch for just a second too long.

You meet his eyes, steady, unwavering.

“I need you to understand that I’m not her anymore. I’m not the girl who built her life around you.”

He nods slowly. He’s not the same guy who did that to you either.

You take a breath, slow and shaky, fingers lifting to the collar of your suit. For a second, you hesitate, then pull it down just enough to reveal a chain.

A ring dangles there, silent and gleaming like a ghost.

His breath hitches like you just knocked the air out of him. His eyes drop to the ring, and for a second, he forgets how to stand.

You still have it, you didn’t discard it, you carry it with you.

Just like he does.

“You kept it…” he says, barely above a whisper.

His voice cracks like a fault line, and your chest tightens because you weren’t supposed to make this harder. You were supposed to walk away and leave no room for what ifs.

John takes a slow step forward, not touching you, just standing close enough that you can feel how badly he wants to.

“Can I…” His voice falters. “Can I still try?”

You say nothing, just looked at him. Really looked at him.

The dark under his eyes, the tired weight in his voice. The ache of someone who finally understood the cost of his actions.

You bit your tongue. You wanted to say yes, that was the worst part.

And maybe that’s the moral of the story. Some mistakes get made, that’s alright, that’s okay. In the end you choose what you think it’s better for you.

Even if sometimes it meant to throw yourself back again into what once destroyed you, because maybe, just maybe, it’s the only thing that can put you back together.

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━ comments and reblogs save author’s lives, thank you so much for reading <3

490 notes · View notes

totalswag · 2 months ago

Text

coachella baby ⎯ RAFE CAMERON!

authors note coachella fic is finally here. i know i went hiatus for a bit (again) but now that i finally had the time to finish my coachella fic ENJOY IT. kook and pogues are civil aka we love that. feedback is always appreciated <3.

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary attending coachella with your boyfriend and friends for the weekend to make amazing memories, watch artists perform, and just have fun.

warning(s) cursing, drinking, kissing, partying, mentions of loud music, and girls wearing badass outfits the whole trip.

The whole friend group made the biggest decision to fly out to Palm Springs for Coachella. Of course you all agreed. You’ve always wanted to go and now it’s finally happening, you couldn’t believe it. This is about to be a long eventful weekend.

Fast forwarding to today⎯Coachella day one. Everybody woke up this morning ready to start the day. The gates don’t open till one o’clock which gave everyone enough time to relax.

Morning started off with breakfast by the pool and mimosas. Laying by the pool with music playing from your speaker. The closer it gets to getting ready, you ran into the house to shower then get ready. The whole house was getting ready.

“Leaving in thirty minutes!” Sarah yelled from the kitchen reminding everyone it’s getting close to “go time” as she likes to say.

“Has anyone seen my other shoe?!” Topper yells from down the hall.

"Which one?" Kelce yells back. "Left, right, emotional support sneaker?"

"left, bro. I need the left," Topper practically screams.

Downstairs, Kie’s trying to untangle five different necklaces in the mirror while JJ runs through the living room like an absolute menace, a towel tied around his neck like a cape.

You were in your shared bathroom with Rafe putting the final touches of your makeup⎯leaning forward applying lip liner then you were finished⎯you looked hot.

“Are you tryna kill me or something?” Rafe says from behind with his arms crossed tilting his head to the side that makes you weak to the knees.

You turn your whole body around seeing him in full length⎯thin white button shirt with his tanned chest revealed, black cargo pants, white shoes along with his signature gold chain.

“Could say the same to you” you mock.

You roll your eyes, checking your outfit in the full-length mirror. “You’re one to talk. You look like a Calvin Klein ad got lost in the desert.”

He laughs and walks over, pulling you into him by the waist. “Then I guess we’re the hottest couple out there.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Ready, angel?”

The moment you arrived to the festival you found your way to the drinks⎯everyone made sure to buy waters too since the heat is no joke right now. Luckily there mini fans to buy at little tents.

Meanwhile, Cleo reaches in her back and brings out her small digital camera, and everyone gathers around.

"Okay, group photo first!" Cleo yells. "Then we'll do individuals and couple shots."

The girls cheer each other on the entire time, adjusting one other's accessories and swapping places. The girls looked unbeatable had to toe⎯each to their style⎯Sarah, Kie, Sasha, and Kendall.

“Y/N, tilt your head a little⎯yes! That’s it!”

“Cleo, you better send me every single one of these" you say in between pictures.

Meanwhile, the guys are doing whatever guys do when you put a camera in their hands. JJ and Kelce start making dumb poses, flexing muscles and arguing who's is bigger. Rafe just waits patiently, leaning back on one leg, watching you through dark lenses.

"You girls look so hot!" a group of girls yelled as they walked by. All of you compliment back with the same energy.

Couple photo's came out great. Cleo's camera does wonders with amazing quality too. All the couples outfits complimented each other in their own ways.

You slid into Rafe's arms, leaning into him. He placed a kiss just behind your ear, whispering, “You’re the hottest thing at this whole festival.”

“I think your ego is,” you teased.

“Debatable,” he murmured, brushing his nose against your cheek before the flash snapped.

Two hours into Coachella and it's been so much fun so far. You guys watched a few artists perform on stages⎯singing and dancing like your lives depended on it. Seeing what other's are wearing for day one was nice because everyone's vibe was different.

Watching different artists perform on stage felt like a fever dream. They all brought something different that made their stage presence unique⎯Tyla, Gorilla, The María's, and more.

Sunset paints the sky in bruised pinks and oranges, and everyone is glowing with sweat and happiness. Sunset pictures were a must.

Right now Missy Eliiott was performing on stage and you felt like shaking ass⎯you did. The energy she brought to the stage was unmatched. The crowd lost their shit the minute she started singing.

The guys were behind while the seven of you girls stood in front letting loose. "I am having so much fun!" Shay, Kelce girlfriend, says aloud, swaying her hips to the beat of the beat. You all agreed cheering then singing more of the lyrics.

You caught a moment alone with Rafe near a vendor, the two of you sitting on the grass. The bass from a nearby stage vibrated through the soles of your shoes. He leaned back on his hands, looking up at the night sky.

“This is kinda perfect,” he said.

You glanced over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You mean me and you or Coachella?”

“Both,” he said, eyes flicking over to you. “But mostly you and me.”

You leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet. He smiled into it, pulling you onto his lap with zero shame.

“Let’s never miss this weekend ever again,” he whispered. “Like… ever.”

The moment you guys have been waiting for⎯Lady Gaga⎯set to perform at midnight. One thing about Lady Gaga is she'll give it her all when performing. No one knows what she'll perform but you're most excited for her older songs.

When bad romance played you were at lost at words. The visuals were insane. You had your phone out recording the performance. Moving your phone to the rest of your friends in their own element.

Rafe reached for your waist, pulling you closer, the music vibrating between your chests. You moved with him, bodies so close that there wasn’t any air left between you. He wasn’t really dancing, not like the people around you were⎯he just held you, guiding your hips in time with the pulsing beat, like he didn’t want to let you slip away into the crowd.

When Gaga’s voice soared into the chorus⎯I want your love and I want your revenge⎯Rafe dipped you slightly backward, one hand cradling your lower back. You shrieked in surprise, laughing, gripping onto his shirt as the lights flashed wildly around you both.

Half way through Gaga's performance, she walked to the piano getting ready to sing the next song. Die with a smile starts playing on the keys. The whole crowd was silent at first then started singing along. You however, could feel your chest tighten up.

Rafe and you love this song. It means so much to you especially. Rafe is everything you want in someone. You allowed yourself to take a deep breath as you stared into Rafe's eyes.

Rafe tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and stared down at you with this look you could feel all the way to your toes.

“This song,” he said, fingers dragging slowly up and down your spine, “is exactly how I feel right now.”

You blinked up at him, chest pounding from more than just dancing. “How’s that?”

He leaned in, so close his breath warmed your lips. “you meaning the absolute the world to me and I wouldn't know who I'd be without you."

You give him a delicate smile playing with the ends of his buzz cut hair, "you have no idea how much I love you," and pull him down to kiss your soft lips.

By the time you made it to the house, everyone went their separate ways in their shared rooms. Coachella day one was one in the books and can't wait for the next two days ahead.

⎯⎯ my taglist! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account.

@chenslucy @rafeyslamb @rosezza @mymultiveres @drewsephrry @drewizz @whorelaud @diqldrunks @starkeyvhs @percysley @francislovergirl @sukuna-wafiu @skyslowalking @kneelarmhstrung @inthelibrarybtw @lilumz-blog @lovingsturniolo @xoxosblogsblog @darkacademictrash @claudiamoscatoo @starkeysturniolo @ratgirlcunt @yanna2coolz @eddxemxnson @raewontgoaway @definitelynotdomanique @isabellaxlilah @inlovewrafe @minyoon23 @stevesxwhore @skywalker0809 @acidfeens @stxrzyn @sfotiegiuls @babypoguelife @dolletebun @stoned-writer @drewstxrky @chris444evr @kiiyomei @bxmaaa @pwertiies @6r4cie @ifwfratboychris @sjmalfoy19 @drewrry @outerbanksloverp4l @thesunflowersociety @drewwhore @my-name-is-baby @sparklyananas @rafesprecious @cherrrrrrycosmo @akobx

478 notes · View notes

sierrale8ne · 7 months ago

Note

two words. crotchless panties. do what u will with this request 🤷🏾‍♀️

paige bueckers x fem!reader

nsfw // fingering, oral, bathroom sex, munch paige is back little bit of butt stuff, i got #carriedaway

kalena speakss 🪽! we on freak timing today guys! a lil fic to keep y’all happy until i drop chapter 12 of fdafn. enjoyyyy 🫂

She’s trying to kill you.

Well, not literally, but close enough because the Kith polo shirt and back slacks and those fucking loafers are making your knees fucking weak.

It’s big east media day, and as a media intern you were lucky enough to get the opportunity to fly out to New York and interview some of the athletes today.

You worked through some of the Marquette girls, the UConn team as well, but you had to keep away from her. From Paige.

Your relationship was complicated. Namely the fact that you were having casual sex. Paige was cool about it all, and so were you. However, the pressure of her staring at you and making your cunt soak in the confinement of your pants was not something you wanted in front of your peers.

You sit with your legs crossed towards the back of the group, getting a head start on some reports that would be waiting when you got back to Storrs, when Paige takes a seat next to you.

“It’s taken.” You mumble, eyes still glued to the small tablet.

“It’s not.”

“You know that how?”

“Been watchin’, ma. You and this tight ass outfit.” She mumbles the last part under her breath. Her finger darts out from her lap, running over your bended knee.

You’re wearing a brown striped monochromatic button up that hugs your waist, the black dress pants tight on your hips. You look good, as always, but it’s something about the business attire you have on that makes Paige’s mind travel to an otherwise dirty place.

You stand up, turning off the device and sticking it in your purse as you wipe off the back of your pants. “I have work. And so do you.” You mention, giving her a cunning grin as you begin to walk off.

She’s chasing after you, fast. “I’m all done for today. Why you ain’t interview me earlier? I was lookin’ forward to it.”

Fucking killing you.

When you look back at her, Paige is smirking, her long legs in stride as they catch up to you. Her diamond studs glisten in the light of Madison Square Garden.

“You’re a distraction, P. I have a job to do.” You mumble.

Paige hums. “You think I wasn’t distracted seeing you in this? Your tits are damn near falling out of this shirt.” She says under hear breath.

You’re immediately soaking again.

Paige has a way of making you forget all of your morals. You didn’t do casual, yet here you were with her. It’s how she convinced you to spend the night, or to let her eat you out in the back of her car. It worked every time.

And it always started like this: the teasing.

“Paige, c’mon.” You beg, trying to hold onto what was left of your sanity. You stop in your tracks, turning to face her with a pleading look.

“Let me.” She states, firm and serious. “Y’know Ion even need five minutes.”

That’s how she got you, convincing you to step into the closest bathroom. Your arm wrapped around her neck while the other tugged her to you by that chain. The cross on it nearly burns your hand as Paige’s lips slotted against your own.

“Can’t ever fuckin’ resist me.” She comments with a smile, hands holding onto your waist as she backs you into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

“Shut up. I’m givin’ you five minutes.” You breathe and your tongue prods at her bottom lip, slipping into the warmth of her mouth. It’s messy, saliva swapping between you both.

You allow her to back you into the sink, hands gripping at your ass and teeth biting at your lip.

The purse on your shoulder falls to the floor and you pull back, catching your breath while Paige instantly grabs at your waistband.

She undoes the button of your pants. Her fingers deliberately and delicately popping the button.

Her hand slips into the confinement of your pants, traveling further in search of your clit. When she finds it, and the lack of material that covers your sopping wet cunt, a moan tumbles past her lips. Loud and guttural and almost full of shock.

You’ve done a lot of things; nudes when she’s at practice, copping a feel under the table, even shameless makeouts at Ted’s. You two have done it all, but crotchless panties was wild even to your standards.

“Fuck, P.” You sigh and Paige applies more pressure.

“Fuckin’ slut. Y’showed up to work like this? You crazy?” She asks. Paige looks at you like a piece of meat, and that, combined with her middle finger on your clit does a terrible job at helping you keep your composure. “Been wantin’ me, yeah?”

You attempt a nod, “You like easy access, right?” You tease, breath shuddering as Paige pulls her hand away and you see the way your slick drips down her fingers.

She had barely even touched you.

“Hurry up.” You rush out, hands gripping the collar of her polo and pulling her lips to yours. This kiss felt necessary. It was eager and filled with emotion and excitement that you both carried. Her tongue navigated your mouth while she tugged down your pants down to your knees.

You try to gently pull away, but Paige pulls you back with a hand at the back of your neck. “In a minute.” She responded, each movement calculated.

You finally do pull back, breath deep and ragged, a string of saliva connects your lips. She licks it away and without a word she spins you around and bends you over the counter.

The air hits your cunt immediately, forcing a gasp from your throat. Paige’s hand follows, giving a sharp slap to your ass that makes you jolt.

“Unbutton your shirt.”

“Paige, I don’t have all d—”

“Unbutton, your shirt.” She instructed while sinking behind you. You watch that blonde hair, that is just a twinge of pink, travel behind you until the soft thud of her knees htting the ground follows. “Bra too.”

You try. You really do, but Paige’s hands shock you by spreading your folds apart. Her hands cold and a bit rough as they scissor you open.

“More. Fuck, more, please.” You whine, pushing your hips back against her.

“I did this shit to you, baby? You get all wet from watchin’ me answer a few questions?” Paige teases, pout obvious in her voice. You’re lucky she can’t see your face in the mirror, the obvious flush on your face would be too embarrassing to handle.

You don’t even get a chance to respond before the warmth of her tongue wipes away any other thoughts.

It’s criminal how good Paige is at this. How her tongue navigates through every line of your pussy like she’s made for it.

Her large hands press to your ass, spreading your cheeks apart to get better access to the depths of your cunt. Paige’s nails dug into the flesh while her tongue pushed in and slowly fucks into you.

“Oh! God, yes, P.” You groan, slamming your hand down on the counter to keep you stable.

“What I say about that shirt?” She grumbles against you, pulling back briefly to see just how good you look from behind. The curve of your ass and the slight pucker of your asshole, your cunt dripping and the juices trailing down your leg.

Those panties aren’t helping, hugging tight to your core and a darker shade of burgundy, from her own spit, than the one she saw a few minutes ago.

Paige dives back into you, humming as she suckles on your swollen clit.

You know better than to piss her off, so you unbutton the shirt, following that by popping the clasp on the front of your lace bra. Hushed moans spill from your lips as you grind back against Paige’s magical fucking lips.

She was so messy with it, her head shaking side to side. Her tongue stretched flat over the expanse of your pussy.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, baby.” Paige mutters, pulling back to spit down your backside. Her thumb trails through your folds, making you shudder, until it reaches your ass. “Lemme have you here?”

You think she’s crazy. Either sex deprived or pussy drunk but you still let her. You’re nodding, desperate for her to touch you again. Whether it’s her lips around your clit or her tongue in your ass.

“Hurry up, oh my God.” You groan, pushing back once more. Paige’s thumb circles your ass before she sinks it deep, hooking it inside of you and going back to wrapping her lips around your clit. Paige sucks on it like a fucking pacifier, running her tongue over the hood.

“Fuckin’ tight. You such a slut for it, huh?” She degrades with her mouth busy. Her thumb fucking into you at an ungodly speed.

Your breath hitches and your legs start to tremble. “Paige, I’m gonna cum.” You moan, that pit in your stomach feeling like fire. Your lip finds its way between your teeth in an attempt to quiet your moans.

“Hold it jus’ a lil longer, ma.” She commands.

Again, you know better than to disobey her, so you do. Your eyes bore into the mirror, watching her stand up behind you, her face completely covered in your arousal. It drips down her chin, some staining the top of her shirt.

Paige’s thumb finally leaves you, making you feel like you can breathe again. She reaches forward with her other hand, wrapping it gently around your neck, and pulling you into a kiss.

You taste very bit of yourself on her tongue as she kisses you slow. It distracts you from everything. Which gives the blonde a perfect opportunity to sink her finger into you.

“She’s so wet for me, ma.”

You try to hide the face you make at the stretch, your cunt opening up for her like that was its job. You pull away from her and your jaw falls slack, gripping the edge of the sink as she moves it faster.

The echo of your arousal is loud, probably heard by your peers out on the floor right now. But you don’t care. It feels incredible, like she was made for you. And Paige feels it too.

“So perfect, baby.” She whispered into your mouth before turning your face so you see yourself in the mirror. You’re a mess, eyeliner on your lower lash line slightly smeared and your hair disheveled. “Jus’ sucking me in.”

A response built on your tongue, seconds away from traveling to her ears until she slipped another finger inside of you. You watch as Paige’s eyes slightly roll at the squelching sound.

“Fucking—shit, oh my God.” You moan, this time it’s too loud.

The hand that is splayed across your chin moves to cover your mouth. “I know it feels good, but you gotta stay quiet, baby.” She says, curling her fingers until they hit that one gummy spot and you’re nearly falling apart.

Paige looks incredible. Her lips pink and swollen, those crystal blue eyes drinking up every inch of your body through the mirror. It’s literally a scene from a movie. The lights dim and illuminating over every single detail of the both of you.

Your tits bounce with each thrust of her fingers, giving her more motivation to keep going.

Her hand leaves your mouth to knead one, pinching at your nipple and tugging it until her name spilled out of your lips like a broken prayer.

“Paige! Yeah, baby, just like that. Fuck!” You babble, head falling back onto her strong shoulder as she speeds up. And you’re gushing, all over your legs and all over her hand.

“You wanna cum for me?”

“Please. M’right there, P.”

“C’mon, mama.” She leaves a kiss to your neck, followed by a bite to the same spot. “You got it, princess. Let me have it.”

And that’s all it takes for the cord to snap as for you to let go on those fingers, a hushed cry leaving your mouth as your body writhes.

“Good girl. So good, look at that.” Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head at the praise. Paige’s finger’s finally slow as they work you through it, her other hand leaving your body to run a hand through your hair.

“Fuck.” You breathe. “I said five minutes.”

“I couldn’t help myself, those fuckin’ panties you got on. You knew better.” She defends, kissing your neck as her fingers finally leave you.

#sierrale8ne #paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #uconn wbb #wlw smut #lesbian #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#moot toot #tini 🤭#rqs 🐆

668 notes · View notes

leyavo · 3 months ago

Text

Soap fiddling with his necklace when he’s nervous, biting the silver cross or kissing it for luck before he starts a mission.

One day he plucks a gold chain from his t-shirt and a St. Christopher pendant balancing between his lips. He never wears gold, but he tucks it away explaining how it’s for protection and guidance. The guys assuming it’s another gift from his religious grandmother.

Every now and then Soap’s fingers trace the pendant through his clothes as if he’s searching for guidance. The faith to return home.

But it’s not till Gaz is getting stitched up back at base that he notices the silver cross necklace on you (Medic!reader).

Uncanny how it’s bent in the centre, just like Soap’s all thanks to a bullet (he forgot to tuck it back under his shirt). He squints his eyes and would you look at that even his initials are engraved in to it.

Soap swapping his necklace every time with you when he leaves/returns. A promise of seeing you again.

Always having a part of each other.

423 notes · View notes

vingtetunmars · 16 days ago

Text

Stevie Doesn't Know...

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: Being Steve Harrington’s twin sister means always living in someone else’s shadow, under the surface, you're just trying to feel seen. That is, until a chance encounter with Eddie Munson sparks an unexpected connection.

part 2

tags: Reader is Steve’s twin sister, roughly takes place between season 2 and season 3, SFW, overall fluff, meet-cute(?), secret relationship (in part 2), mutual pining, developing relationship, they're just soft for each other your honor. No mentions of Y/N.

A/N: This is my first ever fic, so please bear with me. If you have any suggestions or thoughts feel free to reach out to me (please be nice 🥺). Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

word count: 3k

masterlist

You never really hated high school. It just never quite felt like it belonged to you.

People smiled at you in the hallways—tight-lipped, polite, surface-level smiles that came with your last name. Harrington. Like it was a crown you wore, passed down from Steve.

To most people at Hawkins High, you were just the quieter, smarter, slightly more tolerable version of your brother. “Steve’s sister.” Never mind the fact that your GPA could bench-press theirs or that you ran student council meetings with enough bite to scare actual adults. They didn’t care. You weren’t a real person to them—you were Steve’s sister who didn’t make a mess and remembered to smile.

So you smiled. Every morning. Even now, as you moved through the hallway past rows of metal lockers and neon-colored posters for the winter formal, the same fake grin tugged at your lips.

A locker slammed shut next to you.

“Council meeting’s still on today, right?” asked Mindy, the senior secretary who wore her cheer uniform like it came with a superiority complex.

You nodded. “After seventh period.”

“Cool, cool,” she chirped. “Oh! And hey, there’s a party at Kyle’s tonight—his parents are out of town again.” She grinned, clearly not inviting you just yet. “You should totally come.”

You opened your locker, swapped out your English textbook for Chemistry, and waited.

“And like—” Mindy added quickly, her voice pitching upward, “If Steve’s around, bring him?”

There it was. Right on schedule.

You gave her a practiced smile—half-assed, barely curled at the edges—and shut your locker. “I’ll let him know.”

You didn’t say yes. You never said yes. You just walked away, the sound of your Converse on linoleum echoing down the hallway like punctuation.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Seventh period passed in a blur of equations and doodles in the margins of your notes. After the council meeting, you finally stepped outside, the air already cooling into that signature late-fall crispness. The parking lot was nearly empty.

You considered heading home. You could’ve taken the long way, past the neighborhood where the autumn leaves were still clinging to the trees. You could’ve gone to the arcade. Or the library. Or just—anywhere that didn’t involve someone asking about your brother.

But you didn’t expect to find him sitting on the curb, chain smoking like he wasn’t technically banned from school property after last week’s fireworks stunt in the boys’ bathroom.

Eddie Munson.

The freak. The guy who played guitar like his soul depended on it and made people uncomfortable just by existing too loudly. You’d seen him in the halls before. You’d sat two rows behind him in Honors English last year until he flunked out. You weren’t friends, not really. Just two people whose orbits occasionally overlapped.

He didn’t see you at first.

You almost kept walking. You almost didn’t say anything at all.

But then—

“You know you’re gonna die with those lungs, right?”

His head snapped toward you, brows raised like he expected a punchline. He looked you up and down, eyes lingering on the school ID clipped to your lanyard.

“Oh,” he said. “Royalty speaks.”

You snorted. “Hardly.”

There was a beat of silence. He blinked, like you’d just said something in another language.

You tilted your head. “What? You think I’m gonna write you up or something?”

He shrugged, flicked ash from his cigarette. “Dunno. Just surprised you acknowledged me. Usually your kind has blinders for the unwashed masses.”

You raised a brow. “You mean people who sit alone after school chain-smoking Marlboros in the parking lot?”

He looked at you again, this time with more curiosity than sarcasm. “You’re not as much of a Harrington as I thought.”

You shrugged, offering the tiniest smile—this one not fake, but not fully real either. “Guess you don’t know me.”

He took another drag, then said, “Not yet.”

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The thing about Hawkins High was that everyone fit neatly into their little boxes. Jocks. Cheerleaders. Band geeks. Burnouts. Even the ones who tried not to belong ended up in their own category—like Eddie Munson, who made being an outcast feel like a damn art form.

You weren’t supposed to talk to him. Not because anyone said it out loud, but because it just wasn’t done. You were student council. Straight-A’s. Some teacher’s favorite. You were a Harrington.

So when you found yourself walking into the library during study hall, the last thing you expected was to spot Eddie Munson camped out in the farthest corner—feet kicked up, a tattered fantasy novel in hand, and a sketchbook open in his lap like a secret he wasn’t ready to share.

You would’ve left him alone.

But then he glanced up and said, “Look who it is. Council Queen.”

You sighed. “Do you ever not give people nicknames?”

Eddie leaned back in his chair like the whole world was a stage. “Only the ones who are boring.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So I’m not boring?”

He seemed to consider that for a second. “Not yet. You’ve got potential.”

You rolled your eyes and sat a few chairs away—not close enough to seem like you were seeking him out, but not far enough to ignore him either. You pulled out your notes and started reviewing for an upcoming history quiz.

“Lemme guess,” Eddie said after a beat. “American Revolution?”

“World Wars,” you replied without looking up.

He let out a dramatic groan. “Man, I barely passed that class. Too many dates. Not enough dragons.”

You stifled a laugh. “Well, there were enough battles, if that helps.”

“I dunno,” he mused, tapping his pencil on the edge of his desk. “Would’ve paid more attention if it had orcs or something.”

You shook your head but didn’t tell him to shut up.

After a few minutes, you noticed him glancing at your notes. Not in a copying kind of way—more like he was genuinely trying to make sense of what you’d written.

“You know,” you said, “you could probably pass this year. If you actually tried.”

Eddie gave you a skeptical look. “What makes you think I want to?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” you replied, gesturing to the stack of books on the table. “In the library. During study hall. You could be skipping.”

He blinked like he hadn’t considered that you might notice details about him.

A pause settled between you. Not awkward. Just… curious.

“Alright,” he said eventually. “You got me. I’m trying. Might as well graduate before the world ends.”

You smiled at that. Not the fake smile you gave to party girls who only wanted Steve’s number. A real one. Small, crooked, surprised.

“I won’t tell anyone,” you said, turning back to your notes.

Eddie watched you for a moment longer, then smirked and opened his book again.

And for the rest of study hall, you sat there—quietly, separately, but somehow in the same kind of peace. Like two kids who had accidentally wandered off the map and didn’t hate the company they found.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

Suddenly, he's everywhere.

One day, you passed him in the hallway and gave him a nod. The next, he was already sitting in your usual study hall corner when you walked in, a second chair dragged out for no one in particular. After that, it was lunch outside behind the bleachers—he said the cafeteria made his skin crawl—and you just… started showing up there too.

You never planned it. It was like some weird, unspoken schedule only the two of you understood.

Eddie would make fun of your neatly labeled folders. You’d mock his absolute refusal to use lined paper. He’d tell you about his latest campaign, sketching monsters in the margins of his algebra homework. You’d quiz him on history while he threw pencils at squirrels and pretended not to care. But he always remembered the answers.

There was something safe about being around him. No pretense. No performance. No Steve’s sister nonsense.

Just you.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

It was one of those strange after-school afternoons where neither of you had anywhere to be.

You were sitting across from Eddie in the back corner of the library, pretending to work on student council flyers while he doodled little bats and swords in the margins of a notebook he wasn’t even pretending to study from.

Somehow, the conversation wandered—casually at first—from school stuff to the past, to old reputations that still lingered like cigarette smoke.

And then Eddie said, without looking at you, “You know, your brother used to be a real dick to guys like me.”

You paused, pen hovering mid-air.

“I know,” you said quietly.

He didn’t say it cruelly. Just plainly. Like it was a fact he’d carried around long enough that it didn’t burn anymore.

You shifted in your seat. “He’s not like that anymore.”

“I’ve noticed.”

There was a beat of silence, then you added, “Still, I’m sorry. For how he used to be. He’s my twin, yeah, but he doesn’t speak for me.”

Eddie looked at you for a moment—really looked at you.

Then he shrugged, smirking a little. “Honestly, I stopped holding that against you the moment you made fun of my Dio shirt and didn’t follow it up with a hair flip and an insult.”

You huffed a laugh, a little relieved.

“I don’t do hair flips,” you said.

“Exactly my point,” he replied, tapping his pencil like he’d solved a riddle. “You’re not him. Never were.”

You blinked.

That shouldn’t have meant as much as it did.

But it did.

Because most people only ever saw you as a footnote to Steve’s reputation—his smarter, quieter, more polite twin. A fun twist on a familiar character. Even the compliments felt borrowed.

But Eddie? He said it so simply.

You’re not him.

You felt seen in a way you hadn’t expected. And honestly? It left you a little speechless.

Eddie went back to doodling like he hadn’t just rearranged something in your chest.

You stared at him for a while longer, wondering when exactly things had started to shift.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You were just trying to kill time. Saturday afternoon, no student council meetings, no tutoring sessions, no expectations. You walked into the music store on Main for the quiet, for the rows of records and the occasional hum of something being tested over the speakers. You liked it there. It felt like a place that didn’t need you to be anyone.

The bell above the door jingled behind you just as you were flipping through a bin labeled Classic Rock / Staff Picks.

“I’m not stalking you, I swear,” said a familiar voice.

You looked up, and there he was. Eddie Munson. Denim vest, unruly curls, a tiny tear in his shirt sleeve like always. He looked like he belonged in a record store. You didn’t.

You raised an eyebrow. “Sure you’re not.”

“I mean, I could be,” he added with a smirk. “But I feel like that’d ruin the whole ‘slow burn indie drama’ vibe we’ve got going.”

You snorted. “You think we’re an indie movie?”

He nodded toward the back of the store. “Only if there’s a scene where we judge each other’s music taste in complete silence.”

You followed him.

It wasn’t planned. It never was.

You browsed together for a while after that, shoulders bumping now and then, fingers almost brushing in the cramped aisles. You argued about The Clash vs. Talking Heads. He talked smack about synth-pop when you admitted you kinda liked it.

“I feel like you’re the kind of person who secretly likes Fleetwood Mac,” you said.

He scoffed. “Secretly? Nah. I’m man enough to admit ‘The Chain’ kicks ass.”

You laughed. A real one.

He stared for a beat too long.

You pretended not to notice.

Eventually, you ended up near the little listening station in the corner, headphones too big for your ears, vinyl spinning on a dusty turntable.

He watched you tuck your hair behind your ear as you adjusted the headphones and dropped the needle.

Your eyes closed. You swayed slightly. He didn’t know what you were listening to, but he knew he’d never seen you look more yourself.

Like the version of you no one at school got to see.

You opened your eyes, caught him staring.

He didn’t look away this time.

“What?” you asked, half a laugh in your voice.

He shrugged. “You’re just…”

He trailed off. Words fumbled somewhere between his mouth and brain. He looked down, suddenly very interested in the scuff on his boot.

“…Different than I thought,” he finished lamely.

You watched him.

He looked like he was waiting for you to laugh at him. Or roll your eyes. Or say something biting.

But you just said, “You too.”

There was a pause.

Then he asked, “You wanna go get fries or something?”

You blinked. Not in disbelief. Just in surprise that he asked.

Like this wasn’t just some weird afterschool friendship you both stumbled into. Like it could be more. Like maybe it already was.

You smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

By the next week, you were swapping cassette tapes like they were secret codes. Eddie gave you one labeled For Better Days in black Sharpie. You gave him a mixtape called Study Fuel that was half Bowie, half The Smiths. He said it was pretentious. He listened to it anyway.

He started walking you to your car when no one else was around.

You started waiting for him by his locker after seventh period.

It wasn’t a thing. Not officially. Not yet.

But when his pinky brushed yours one afternoon as you passed him a note—stupid, doodled lyrics and inside jokes—you didn’t pull away.

And when he looked at you after, not smirking but watching, really watching you like he saw something no one else did…

You looked back.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The Harrington house was quiet that night — just the low hum of the fridge and the soft hiss of the shower running upstairs. You were sprawled on the living room floor, textbook open in front of you, pretending to study while the same sentence blurred in your vision for the third time.

You were smiling, just a little. That kind of soft, absent smile you didn’t realize you were wearing.

“You’re either having a mental breakdown,” Steve said from the doorway, “or you’re into someone.”

You glanced up, startled. He was leaning against the doorframe with a glass of water in one hand, looking entirely too smug for someone who couldn’t pass pre-calc without divine intervention.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so nosy.”

“And you’re being weird.”

He walked over, flopping dramatically onto the couch, water nearly sloshing out of the glass.

“I’m not being weird,” you muttered.

“You’re smiling at your homework. Geography homework. That’s suspicious.”

You tried to glare, but he saw right through it. Always had.

He let the silence stretch for a second before speaking again—quieter this time.

“Seriously, though. You seem… I dunno. Lighter.”

You blinked. That caught you off guard.

“I do?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Like… you’re not carrying the whole damn school on your back for once.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just stared down at your textbook and let that settle in your chest.

He waited.

That’s the thing about Steve—he could be a pain, but he was patient with you. Always had been. You could tell him anything, and he’d listen. No judgment. Just a quiet, solid kind of love.

But still, this one was yours.

For now.

So you just said, “Maybe I’m just in a good mood.”

Steve gave a slow, knowing nod.

“Well,” he said, “whoever or whatever it is… keep it. You deserve to feel good.”

That time, you didn’t hide your smile.

“Thanks, Steve.”

He leaned back with a grin. “Now come make popcorn. I’m starting a movie and I need emotional support.”

“You mean you need someone to explain the plot to you.”

He pointed at you dramatically. “Exactly.”

You laughed, closing your textbook and pushing up from the floor.

Whatever was blooming between you and Eddie… it could stay secret a little longer.

For now, it was enough that you knew.

And Steve knew you were okay.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

It started awkward.

Not just regular-Eddie awkward, but nervous Eddie. A rare breed. You spotted it immediately: the way he kept bouncing his leg under the cafeteria table, the way he scratched at the back of his neck like his skin didn’t quite fit.

You were sitting outside again, a half-eaten apple in your hand, a history notebook open but ignored between you.

He cleared his throat once. Then again.

“Hey, uh,” he started, staring hard at the pavement. “So—okay—this is probably stupid.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Great opener.”

He gave you a look. “Let me finish.”

You waited, biting back a smile.

“There’s this… thing. Thursday night. At the Hideout.” He was fiddling with a piece of string from his jacket sleeve now, twisting it around his finger like it owed him money. “Corroded Coffin’s playing. Just a couple of songs. It’s not, like, a real gig. Mostly drunks and a few dudes who mistake us for Sabbath.”

You tilted your head. “Are you… inviting me?”

He winced. “I don’t know. Am I?”

You blinked, then grinned—slow and amused and maybe a little fond.

“Well,” you said, “I guess that depends.”

“On what?”

“Will I get to say I knew you before you were famous?”

Eddie’s eyes lit up, caught somewhere between disbelief and delight. “If you come, you’ll be part of the origin story.”

You tossed your apple core into the trash and stood up, slinging your bag over one shoulder. “Thursday,” you said. “I’ll be there.”

He nodded, visibly trying to play it cool. “Cool. Yeah. Totally cool.”

You laughed on your way back inside.

He watched you go, wide-eyed like he couldn’t believe he’d just pulled that off.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The Hideout smelled like beer and cigarettes and old amps. The stage was barely six inches off the ground, the crowd maybe a dozen people deep, most of them nursing cheap drinks and ignoring the music.

You stood near the back, your hands tucked in your coat pockets, heart doing stupid things in your chest the second Eddie stepped onstage.

He was different up there.

Still himself—loud, cocky, electric—but amplified. His voice rough and raw, his guitar loud enough to shake your ribs. He didn’t look like a high school burnout up there.

He looked right.

You didn’t cheer like the drunk guy near the front or yell like the girls in the corner.

You just watched.

And he saw you.

Halfway through the second song, between lyrics, he looked right at you. Not at the crowd. Not at the door. You.

And he smiled.

Not that showy grin he wore like armor. A real one. Soft. Open.

It ruined you a little.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

After the set, you found him outside behind the bar, sitting on an upside-down crate and smoking a cigarette like it was the only thing keeping his hands steady.

He looked up when he heard you approach, eyes a little wide, hair wild with sweat and adrenaline.

“You came,” he said.

“You weren’t half bad,” you teased.

He scoffed. “We were loud. That’s about it.”

You sat beside him, knees bumping. “You looked happy.”

He went quiet. The good kind.

“I was,” he said eventually.

You turned to look at him. “That’s rare?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Kinda.”

The air buzzed between you, quiet and heavy, like the end of a song that hadn’t quite faded.

And then he said, almost too softly, “I kept looking for you.”

You blinked. “During the set?”

“Yeah.”

You swallowed. “Why?”

He shrugged, eyes flicking to yours. “Made it easier.”

You didn’t think.

You just leaned in.

And for once, Eddie Munson didn’t run his mouth. He didn’t joke. He didn’t fumble or flinch.

He just met you halfway.

The kiss was slow and tentative at first, both of you careful, like you weren’t sure this was allowed. Then it deepened—warmer, steadier—like you were both finally breathing after holding it in too long.

When you pulled back, he stared at you like you’d just rewritten the laws of gravity.

“Okay,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “That was…”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

Neither of you said it out loud, but it was already understood.

This was real. This was yours.

And it was a secret worth keeping.

Part 2

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things #eddie munson x harrington!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson fics #kar's fics ☆

219 notes · View notes

renai-fr · 8 months ago

Text

Perler Flight Banners!

Made the first of these when I made the flight flags a bit back (my flight, Light), and figured it was a good time to make the rest of the flight banners and share the designs! To the best of my ability, they're also to scale with each other, so I think they'd look pretty good if you wanted to make the whole set and put 'em on your wall or something.

Sort of also for Dergtober's first prompt ("Flight"), but uh, ran into that thing with trad media where sometimes you run out of materials, ha! This is also why they're mostly not fused (Ice and Water share most of their mid/light blue beads, for example).

(Crafting info after the break!)

First off, all of these are either 17x34 or 19x34 (these squares are 17x17 on their own). They fit fine on the larger squares, but my big squares happen to all be either bright red or bright yellow, and don't show off the colors very well. They almost all use transparent beads for structural reasons- if you want to cross-stitch these, the transparent beads are fine to ignore! I was just making them so they could theoretically hang on a wall.

Colors used (my best guess, not gospel! I get most of my beads from kits/mixed bags, and they don't always list the color names :/ )

Light: Cream/Créme, Yellow, Cheddar, Transparent

Lightning: Copper (metallic), Robin's Egg, Parrot Green, Glitter Blue, Turquoise, Transparent

Fire: Black, Cherry, Orange, Cheddar, Neon Orange, Transparent

Arcane: Pearl Pink, Cheddar, Raspberry, Pink, Light Pink

Plague: Red, Cherry, Raspberry*, Pewter, Brown, Kiwi Lime

Earth: Brown, Light Brown, Pewter, Dark Gray

Ice: Robin's Egg, Pastel Blue, Gray, Dark Gray, Toothpaste, Light Blue

Shadow: Pastel Lavender, Purple, Dark Gray, Pewter, Toothpaste, Transparent

Wind: Kiwi Lime, Dark Green, Bright Green, Yellow, Rust, Red, Transparent

Water: Denim, Turquoise, Pastel Blue, Parrot Green, Teal, White, Marshmallow, Pastel Yellow, Transparent

Nature: Olive, Bright Green, Kiwi Lime, Dark Green, Marshmallow, Cream/Créme, Transparent

(* I used Raspberry on Plague's flag because I ran out of Cranberry. Cranberry looks WAY better, but like... mismatched didn't work at all. I highly suggest using Cranberry in place of Raspberry in all places it occurs on the design!)

Another color note- when you fuse metallic beads, the shiny stuff makes a lil halo around the bead's center hole. For Lightning, since they have wires/chains on their banner/support, I figured it would work fine, but you could swap the Copper beads out for Rust and it would look good enough, I think. You do lose the shiny factor doing that, though.

A couple of these extend off of the side of the boards; better to use a bigger board for them if you have one (or like, if you have a third 17x17, sticking it to the side of the others and scooting the entire design over a peg would also work!)

As is very visible on the Light banner, it's really easy to get a faulty fuse where the boards meet. The trick where you put masking tape/painter's tape on the back of the beads before ironing (the OTHER side, and then take the tape off to iron its side, to be clear) helps a lot on multi-board fuses. You don't have to poke holes in the tape, but I find that doing so with a ballpoint pen or what have you can help a lot with keeping the beads from moving around, etc.

Happy crafting- if you end up making any of these, please ping me (or um, whatever I'm supposed to call it... still don't quite know how this site works) so I can see!

#flight rising #frfanart #flight banners #perler bead creations

501 notes · View notes

venuiscmind · 1 year ago

Text

Bartender!Ellie & Co-Worker!Ellie <3.

Just some headcannons for the 3-5 part series im cooking up since I finally have time to write!!! Please show some love for this as it will really motivate me to write more for this. Smut below!

read this.

w.c 1.1k

Bartender! Ellie who has you stunned the first day you see her in her all black, tight, fitted uniform. Sleeves rolled up to her veiny, tattooed forearms, dripping with the syrup from the cocktails she was shaking over her shoulders. Dark, black pants that fit her legs perfectly as she moves around the bar.

Bartender! Ellie who keeps her eyes fixed on you while you bend down to hear a customer's order in the busy and loud bar. You turn feeling eyes on you but only see Ellie turning back to pour a drink for a customer.

Bartender! Ellie who gradually opens the buttons of her black shirt during her shift when it gets too hot, showing off the pale but flushed and sweaty skin underneath, adorned with glinting silver chains.

Bartender! Ellie who flirts back with all the pretty girls who press themselves against the bar trying to give her their number. (She throws them out after every shift because they’re lacking something she can't place).

Bartender! Ellie who is immediately in the face of a man who has stepped a little too close to you and has gotten too loud and rude for her liking.

Bartender! Ellie who drives a pretty, sleek car to work and is constantly offering you rides to and from work because you shouldn't have to worry about driving yourself.

Bartender! Ellie who keeps you up till 5am after your shift texting you about anything and everything she could think of to keep you talking, all because she liked hearing you talk.

Bartender! Ellie who pull off her shirt over her head and immediately sinks against the heat of the shower but can't get you out of her head for some reason.

Bartender! Ellie who is constantly offering to make you drinks after your shift when the bar has been closed down, leaving only the two of you to lock up together.

Bartender! Ellie who has to keep her eyes focused on pouring your drink instead of looking at the curves of your form sitting up on the top of the dark marble counter. Her heart (and other places) flutter seeing you like this.

Bartender! Ellie who's tattoo flexes while she clenches her fists when you're not looking, trying to keep herself grounded while she watches your legs cross atop the bar, something she would never be able to catch if she hadn't secretely swapped shifts to be able to lock up with you.

Bartender! Ellie who takes off her apron and button up shirt to change into a loose dark hoodie that makes you swallow hard. She pulls up her hood letting loose tendrils of hair fall out of it before manspreading and turning her keys in the ignition.

Bartender! Ellie who keeps on the silver rings she wears during her shift to clench the steering wheel as she speeds into your neighbourhood blaring music with the windows open at 4am after work. (She later swears she wasn't even driving that fast).

Bartender! Ellie who has to take a breath when you invite her into your house which is impossibly tidy and she actually offers to take off her shoes because of this.

Bartender! Ellie who has to hold back her questions of whether she can marry you or not when you offer her glasses of water and bits of food you can scrounge up for her.

Bartender! Ellie who stares at you, feeling her pupils dilate and her breathing turn rough just looking at you standing in your kitchen.

Bartender! Ellie who stands up and hooks her arms around your middle and rests her head on your shoulder as you do the dishes at 5am.

Bartender! Ellie who begs you to "please tell me I'm not the only one who feels like this because I can't keep ignoring this because fu-".

Bartender! Ellie who is shocked when you turn around to put her face in your hands and smile at her, inches from her face, stroking lovingly. When she slowly moves forward you pull back an inch wanting to savour this look on her face, basking in the mutual desire that you both felt.

Bartender! Ellie who whispers " are you sure"? against your lips with her green eyes boring into your own. You nod, and murmur "Yes ellie, I've been sure for weeks" and press your soft lips into her soft and slightly chapped lips.

Bartender! Ellie who has to move her hands from your hips to the counter to steady herself once she allows herself to give into the sensation of kissing you. She can't think with her hand and mouth full of you, and only you.

Bartender! Ellie who pulls back and finds herself being pulled into your bedroom, your fingers interlaced with hers, never leaving her seperated from you again.

Bartender! Ellie who sits back on your bed, watching in awe of the woman before her, as you strip off your work shirt and pants, leaving you in your soft underwear in the light of dawn, peaking through your curtains.

Bartender! Ellie who grips your hips like her life depends on it when you climb into her lap and lies back against the sheets, face and skin turning pink as you press yourself against her toned body.

Bartender! Ellie who lets you strip her down in kind and lets you kiss down between her tits, pawing at them as you press your lips against the soaked spot on her black boxers. She has to remember to breathe when you pull them down leaving her in nothing.

Bartender! Ellie who feels exposed and vulnerable, shaking underneath you while you lick and slurp against her soaked pussy, tasting her like she was the sweetest thing in the world.

Bartender! Ellie who groans out "oh fuck me, right there"- and holds your head gently against her clit when you suck on that spot that has her arching off the bed, her eyes rolling back into her skull. She wraps her legs around your head and shoulders and begs, actually begs you not to stop because she is so fucking close to cumming all over your tongue.

Bartender! Ellie who forgets to breathe again when she feels your fingers press against her slicked and soaked entrance and push into her causing her to melt, shake and press against you to push them deeper inside of her.

Bartender! Ellie who cums when you suck just at the right time with your fingers pushing in and out of her, hitting that sweet spot in her over and over.

Bartender! Ellie who pulls you up by then chin to kiss you, and taste herself fom your mouth and brings your hand up to your lips to taste her again. She then kisses you deeper than you had ever been kissed, tongue invanding your senses until all you can think of is her and her only.

LOL i actually got so horny writing this but hope you enjoyed!!! more to come very soon i promise <;3. - Venuis!

Btw asks and submissions are open so give me some inspo plsplspls xxxx

1K notes · View notes

crypto28ro · 4 months ago

Text

AnySwap – Platforma Inovatoare pentru Schimburi Cross-Chain și DeFi

AnySwap se afirmă ca o soluție modernă în lumea finanțelor descentralizate (DeFi), facilitând schimburile de tokenuri între diverse rețele blockchain. Proiectul AnySwap oferă o platformă interoperabilă care elimină barierele tradiționale din tranzacționarea criptomonedelor, permițând utilizatorilor să efectueze swap-uri rapide și sigure între active din rețele diferite, fără a recurge la…

0 notes

analogone · 2 years ago

Text

Cross Swap Crypto: Revolutionizing Decentralized Trading

Dive into the world of cross swap crypto, where decentralized trading reaches new heights. Learn how this innovative technology is reshaping the cryptocurrency landscape and making transactions faster and more efficient than ever before. Analog is the world’s first true layer-0 protocol, Omnichain platform that uses proof-of-time to validate time data.

#cross chain #cross swap crypto #software

0 notes

muffinsin · 3 months ago

Note

Hi muffin :3

How do you think the sisters would act with an s/o who can turn into a cat (or something bigger like a lynx), maybe has catlike tendencies and the ears and tail in human form too?

Lemme just pull this one to the front of the queue

Hey, hon :)! Fun fact; this inspired me to finally note down my HCs in order to find and filter em a bit easier XP I got the majority of em by now, around 300 of my HCs. Enough of that, though ;P

Let’s get into it🙌

Masterlists

Bela

Bela finds you utterly adorable

As it comes to her, one might just be able to compare her to a dad not wanting a cat and ending up loving it

Bela "I don't want a relationship" Dimitrescu is, after all, head over heels for you

And, for your even more feline form

It startled out easy, with her picking up your scent during one of her monthly hunts

Something new- something odd

Something she hasn't smelled before

Something hurt. Bleeding, even

She tracked you down easily, as you weren't trying to conceal your presence from her. In fact, having lived the majority of your life in the forest after hunters drove you from home, you didn't even know about the Dimitrescus, having been lucky enough to never encounter her sister prior to that day

Then, lying hurt on the ground after stepping in one of the hunter's traps, you almost anticipated death

You couldn't shift to your more human form to at least try to pry open the jaw of the bear trap, your body weak, your fur bloodied

It was Bela who tore open the jaws of the trap, instead

You don't remember the day very well, only remember picking up her scent, rich and light, royal even, as she easily picked you up and carried you over her shoulders

You didn't care where to

And still, awakening in a large room with your injured leg wrapped in soft gauze and your other chained to the wall was not what you expected. Nor was the metal around your mouth, keeping it shut as though to stop you from biting

When you saw Bela the first time, you thought her dangerous with the blood sticking to her and the sickle in her hand. The second she stepped to you and you picked up the scent, however, you calmed again

Today still, you love her scent

It calms you like no other thing and you're deeply possessive about it

Whenever she attempts to switch to a different perfume or try a variety of different soaps, she finds herself whined and and growled at instead, or giggles when you (not quite as subtly as you might like to) swap out her perfume and soaps again

You can't help it, it brings you comfort

Then, in no time, the two of you became closer

She was there for you, every single day, checking in on you

You remember still, the first time you saw Daniela, her eyes wide and excited at the sight of- what had she called you?- a bit kitty in the castle

Bela had stepped in front of you, snarling, her arms crossed, then reaching out as her hand easily grabbed the base of her sister's hood and dragged her back from you like an unruly cat might

She still does this to you in your lynx form, often enough, though it is usually a matter of you letting her drag you, given your size in this form

When you regained your strenght, you were quite anxious about revealing your other form to her, though deemed it necessary one day, when you watched her curiously as she stretched, trying to undo the zipper of her dress. Only was this by her back, and no matter how she tried to turn, she couldn't reach it, too exhausted and a little too sticky with blood after her hunt to simply swarm out of her clothing

You always thought she was so confident for freeily undressing in front you. Looking back, she likely did so even at the start merely because she thought of you as nothing but a lynx, never noticed the person within watching her shyly

And still, she gasped when she first felt your human fingers drag the zipper for her, halfway down her back, just enough to expose her smooth back before you turned out of respect

She was left speechless, though thankfully connected the dots fast upon seeing a woman in place of the large lynx she had kept in her office for the past weeks

And with her knowing about your human form, she became more and more curious about you

The two of you would chat for hours, her asking several questions you didn't always have an answer to

The two of you are comfortable around one another, and deeply protective and possessive as it comes to each other

She wants you to be hers only. She shares all other things with her sisters, but never you

You, are only hers

In the morning, she makes sure you're clean every day and while she doesn't outright say it, she loves to have you curl up on top of her when she works, especially when transformed

She'll absently pat your head as it rests in her lap, humming silently

For you, this serves as a time when you get to relax and calm down, a welcome break from hunting or playing in the castle or forest

Speaking of, Bela is strictly against you going out and leaving the castle on your own. Transformed or not, you're a rare sight, enough for any hunters to keep an eye out for you. She would never want something to happen to you, and she dislikes the thought of her sisters approaching you without her there

They know not to hurt you, not to kill you especially. They know about her fondness of you, and still, she feels a nasty pang of possessiveness at even the thought of their gloved hands running through your fur or across your limbs

As such, you actually get her to hunt a little more often, if only to accompany you when you want to get some fresh air or run about. She knows, you need it, and she knows you won't leave her

You're utterly bound to her, her scent and presence deeply calming, your entire being in love with her. She's your everything, and you love being with her. It gives her all the reassurance she needs to allow you to roam free as you like, so long as she knows where you are in case of danger

In winter, she pleads you to stay within castle grounds, and often enough you actually find yourself being accompanied by Alcina Dimitrescu, who- despite not being thrilled at having to watch over you- could never say no to her eldest pleading for her to ensure your safety, insisting you're her everything, you're special, and she could never see you get hurt

In summer, she loves to be out with you, laughing and running with you

She isn't faster than you, but can keep up with you with little issue due to her swarm

Then, of course, there is the heat and the shedding in summer, too...

You hate it, though Bela at least makes it a little more bearable

While she loves the warmth, she helps you get to cooler areas in the castle and ensures you always have enough cool water around to battle the heat she so eagerly soaks up. You especially love being in your lynx form and lapping at the water as she pours it in front of you

One upside to this heat: you get to have a lot of baths with your soon-after-meeting-her girlfriend

Out of her sisters, Bela is the one to stay the cleanest and is the most hygenic. Still, especially in winter, she refuses bathing multiple times a day

In summer, you occaisionally abuse her care and obliviousness to how bothersome the heat is (or not!) by asking her for baths multiple times a day. You can't help it, not when it means seeing her strip from her tight dress and move in the water with you, her body close to yours, her flies calm at last

And speaking of; Bela has made it a point not to swarm near you unless necessary

That is mostly due to the fact you love to chase down and hunt the little things. Poor Bela squeals each time she swarms even a little and you automatically try to catch the little insects. While far too fast for your human form, you do occaisonally catch a couple with your large paws when transformed, and always nudge them apologetically when the little insects stop moving after

At night, she likes to sleep with you curled up by her side. Should you be transformed, you like sleeping on top of her, your face rested on her soft thigh, your paws stretching across her limbs

Otherwise, she'll eagerly hold you- or be held by you- all night long. Especially in winter does she love the warmth your fur offers and while it occaisonally has her sneeze, you often catch Bela nuzzling into it, as though chasing its warmth

Of course, you will always provide her with it

In summer, on the other hand, you like curling up by her, content to enjoy the feeling of her rather cool skin. As you are her heater, she's always doing a good job at helping you cool down effortlessly

Something a little more feral to consider, perhaps, is that you like bringing her little trophies whenever you get outside

And while Bela is perfectly capable of hunting, too, she usually ends up giving the countless fish and birds you bring her back to you with a sweet smile you just can't resist

In time, though, you find: your girlfriend actually likes the birds- alive ones, that is

And as such you make it your job to gently take some with you when you can, trying your best to be careful with the fragile creatures and bring them to her, only for her to release them in the castle's courtyard, where most stay and build countless little nests she likes to admire in her spare time

The fish, however, are all yours

Cassandra

Cassandra certainly finds you- interesting

At first, you were prey to her

Her favourite prey

She’d chase you through the woods, hold you down when she’s caught you and pat the space between your furry ears, as though petting you

When in your other form- as you often were to try to escape her- she’d stroke your fur. She’d often comment on how beautiful it was, giving twisted compliments such as that she would love to skin you and have you decorate the walls of her room

It’s a compliment, to her

But- she never did anything like that

She never left you with more than a few cuts and scratches, and occasionally a bite

She never killed you, never broke your limbs or caused irreversible damage

She liked you

You have always been special to her

Then, when you’re pursued by hunters one day and find yourself running blindly, you suddenly realize you’re far closer to the castle than you thought. You’re hurt, bloodied and beat, your usually so fierce snarls reduced to quiet whines and meow-like, dragged out screams

Just when the hunter approached you again, his shotgun raised and eye flashing his twisted, sadistic intentions and greed to turn your fur into gold, he was yanked away

You watch, confused and helpless, as Cassandra fights the three men pursuing you. She fights- differently, than she does with you. She doesn’t hold back like she does with you

She’s far faster, far more brutal. You watch as she effortlessly drags her sickle and digs her flies through the attackers

Not a single shot can even be fired, for her hand grabs the weapon and harshly yanks it from the man. She’s far too fast for them to catch up and far too fast for you, in your weakened state especially, to try and keep up with her

Your eyes slip shut to the screams of the men and her sadistic, loud, excited laughter

You don’t know what will happen, only knowing that her life- or death- lies in her bloodied hands

When you next awaken you’re in the castle, bathed in warmth and rich scents. You note almost immediately: you’re in a bed, large and comfortable. Upon looking around, you realise you must be in Cassandra’s room

Hunting trophies are pinned to the walls, weapons scattered about the floor. The curtains are drawn, a deep red shade, and a large bed stands in the far end of the room. Her bed, likely, whereas the one you’re on seems as though dragged in just to let you stay in the room

Your body aches, but as you look down you notice your wounds are cleaned out and bandaged

You know immediately; she saved you, took care of you

When she enters the room the next time, her eyes glint, and while she locks the door, you don't feel trapped

You know, the woman has had countless opportunities to kill you in the past

So why hasn't she?

She looks you up and down, her eyes taking in your human form. She isn't as familiar with this one, nearly thought you an intruder and killed you when she saw a woman rest in her room, rather than the large, lynx-like animal she dragged inside

Now, recognizing the same glint in your eyes, she's curious

You gasp in surprise when she suddenly swarms to you, her sickle suddenly held below your chin, tilting your head up

You want to say something, want to thank her, at least, but with her golden eyes piercing yours hungrily and her sickle held to your face, you feel as though all words are lost to you

Instead, you allow her to look at you, turn your head when she turns her sickle, shiver when she trails her gloved fingertips over your ears and the fur still growing along parts of your throat, cheek, arms, and waist. She doesn't look underneath the blanket covering you, but you're certain she's seen it, having placed bandages around your cuts

"Thank you", you eventually manage to breathe out, and immediately her head snaps to you, as though not expecting you to talk at all

She's impossibly close to you, her golden eyes taking in your form. You feel her breath against your face, pick up the scent of the woods, blood, and rich perfume that clings to her. You find her eyes, gold and stunning, allow your own to briefly linger on her face- her bloodied cheeks, her wide-ish nose, her lazy eye, her thick lips. Briefly, you think of reaching out and caressing them, but quickly shake the thought away, blaming your still dizzy state instead

And just as fast as she approached you, she swarms off again, humming something about resting some more, alongside with a promise, or perhaps a threat, that she will be back

And back she was

Cassandra was there every day, often dragged some still-twitching animal or woman in with her for you to feast on

Towards the end of your recovery, however, you instead found yourself having a new fate: Being Cassandra's

She had clasped a collar around your throat, a golden C engraved at the side, and while she has never said it, you knew not to attempt to exit the castle without her

Instead, you found yourself living almost as her pet

She'd occaisonally take you hunting with her, though you always felt her eyes on you, as if daring you to try to run off. In the beginning, she'd bring a leash, smirking at who you soon figured out must be her sisters, as though proud of the large, lynx-like creature sitting perfectly trained by her side

You find, have realized very early on, you like making her proud

You like seeing her smirk, and you love feeling her gloved fingers scratch at your ears and fur when you've been good

You like to hunt with her, like to bring her trophies, and must appreciatively rubbing against her leg when she takes her favorite ones and pins them to the walls of her room

Soon, you realize;

You like her

You adore her scent, her laughter, her presence, her humor, even her sadistic tendencies and feral moments make your heart flutter and stomach feel light

And Cassandra? You are everything to her

While it starts out as her keeping you as a pet, deeply possessive and protective over you, it soon blooms into her wanting to spend time with you

She'll drag you along wherever she goes, unsure how else to communicate that she wants you around

You notice, still, notice how she begins to open up a little more with you

She begins allowing you to sleep in her bed, in both of your forms, and while she starts out by holding only your leash to her, she soon begins quietly nuzzing your fur when she feels particularly tired, granting you but a glimpse of her care, love, and the vulnerability that comes with it

You never let her down

You stay still when she sleeps with her cheek smudged into your warm fur, breathe quietly when she sleeps with her head on top of your chest when in your human form

The two of you never bothered with terms. Soon, it became clear: you were hers,

and she was yours

Daniela

Daniela is absolutely smitten with you!

She thinks you're the cutest little thing in the world. Her little kitty, as she calls you even when you adapt a decent size when transformed, her little human, when in your regular form

She loves to cuddle up with you, and you love receiving gentle pats and strokes of her nails through your fur in return

She's so gentle with you, even when she's excited, and she absolutely loves feeling you purr on top of her when she reads to you and scratches that perfect spot right by your ear. Though, while she is gentle, she has at least once carefully tugged at your tail just to see your reaction

Speaking of, each time she taps your ears and they flick, she giggles adorably. At times, when in a particularly foul mood, you growl at her for trying to catch your ears between her fingers or raise your hand to catch her wrist, but a single coo and little pout on her lips is enough for you to already smile or purr again

She just has a way of making you feel happy

Daniela loves to go out with you for some fresh air in summer

Her favorite thing to do is to hunt with you nearby. When transformed, you occaisionally join her, hunting down mice or smaller animals or simply stalking them while she often goes for deers, bears, lycans, and about every unfortunate soul unlucky enough to get lost in the forest by the castle

Often, she'll coo when you encounter a lycan and hiss and snarl, your fur suddenly fluffy, your tail standing straight, your sharp claws out. She never lets you fight, but allows you to hiss away

Still, the second the lycan dares move towards her "precious kitty" she moves, fast as lightning, her sickle drawing a howl and causing an uncomfortable crunch as it connects with the monster's skull

She's incredibly protective of you

But, still, even with her being incredibly protective of you, Daniela finds it incredibly hot when you’re protective of her, too. Whenever snarl or bare your fangs at someone threatening her or a staff member merely stepping too close to the flirty redhead, she will literally swoon

When you're transformed and hunt together, she'll usually win and lightly tease you for it, a satisfied grin on her lips that makes you swoon. Should she lose, she usually pouts adorably, demanding a rematch or whining about how this and that is to blame. You always grant her this, simply enjoying spending time together

And to her too, this is one way of spending quality time together

Whenever you bring her one of her kills as an offering, she squeals happily

She sees it as a love offering!, and she eagerly shows it off to any who will listen and see- her mother, her sisters, even the prisoners down at the basement area unable to stop her when she yanks them about- often earning herself a growl from her sister when she is already busy with them- while rambling about you

She just can't help herself!

She loves you so much!

When back at the castle especially, it isn't uncommon for the two of you to spread pure chaos at times

After all, between her own impulsiveness, mischief and both of your at times rather feral ways, the castle is often filled with crashing noises, loud giggles and snarls, and little coos as you decide to hunt indoors for fun

Daniela is, even as she hasn't admitted it yet- and only because you have not asked- absolutely obsessed with your lynx form. The first time you transformed she immediately squealed, unable to sto gushing about you

She still squeals happily, often even picks you up and leaves you feeling surprised by doing so

She loves your beautiful fur and loves cuddling into it. With her feeling cold most of the time, there is nothing more beautiful to her than curling up against you or in your arms in front of the quiet fireplace, a book in her hand, her face smudged against your fur

When she sees your sharp teeth, she quietly swoons, though the blush on her cheeks is always telling even when she doesn't speak on it

In general though, Daniela ensures you always feel her affection and happiness

She's an incredibly touchy person, and with you being at least part feline, you more often than not prove to be the same. She constantly nuzzles you, at times drags her teeth against your neck as though to sink in and taste you. At other times she likes to bury her face in your neck or hair, sinking eagerly into your arms or keeping hers around you like you're her personal- and favorite- stuffed animal

Especially when transformed, you both have a habit of pouncing on one another randomly, which often turns to a mix of showing affection and starting little sessions of play fighting that she always (and easily) wins

And while your more human half certainly at times has to keep both of you in check, Daniela in turn encourages all your cat-like mischief, often having such urges herself deep inside, having only (thank god!- Alcina) grown out of them

Still, when you knock something over she giggles, and when you slumber in her sunbathing spot she whines, but eventually merely curls up with you no matter how little space is left

Whenever you stare off into the distance for a little too long and suddenly take off, sprinting after god knows what, Daniela immediately joins in. She doesn't know what you're chasing, but she's eager to help, and that about sums her up

When you work, however, Daniela is less patient. She just loves you so much! She wants all of you! Why can't you work as- what did she call it- the castle's rat- catcher or so

You had frowned at the words, though getting to make your daily hunting time your job sounds enticing

When you do work and are busy, you often enough flick your tail or ears and move from her, insisting you're busy. Daniela always follows you around almost like a lost puppy, whining or rambling, until you either cave in and give her attention again or she becomes bored and swarms off to annoy her sisters

Thankfully, however, with you both having very little to no sense of personal space at all, the two of you often end up curled together, as close as possible, or spend as much time as humanly possible with one another

Sometimes, you like to slow blink at her, especially so when you feel a little less talkative even in your human form. The day she finds out it means you're trying to show her your love, she always does it back without fail

And while you don't share all cat traits, you share enough. Kneading, namely, as well

Oh, and how Daniela swoons and loves when you do so on top of her, especially on her back. She'll giggle for a little bit at the feeling of your heavy paws against her back, but soon enough start producing a purr-like sounds with her flies that almost matches your own

You love hearing it

Once, just once you saw her try to copy you, rearranging her flies with great difficulty to maintain a tail somewhat matching yours for a few seconds or so. It was enough for you to automatically tackle her and rub your face all over hers, purring as you did so. She still sometimes thinks about it and smiles at the fond memory

You're so cute!

#cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #zeleneagle

157 notes · View notes

rainbowolfe · 1 year ago

Text

Observations of The Goat

The first thing the trailer highlights is the lighthouse. Fully repaired, the yellow crystal gives off a pink light and aura.

Lamb on their last heart hides behind rocks marked with a parenthesis-like symbol with a slash through the lower half. This appears in Clauneck's room.

The light from the lighthouse highlights more of the symbols in a puddle on the ground. In this puddle we can see two chains. This could be a portal to the Realm Beyond. It would also imply that Goat is trapped somewhere they can't leave. A drop of Lamb's blood enters the puddle, triggering the next sequence.

A brand new, never-seen magic circle appears in pink. Placed on a hexagon, the ends decorated with the symbol of the Heretic (see: Fleece of the Old Faith). The inner circle has many of the symbols found on the Bishop's magic circle, but also a few new ones, for a total of 12.

There's this series of flash frames:

It looks like the Goat casts a second magic circle, this one with a prominent triangle in the center.

Lamb is pulled into the puddle. But when they cross over into the puddle, it swaps their position to turn them from being "the pulled" into "the puller". This may imply this was a mild act of possession.

Goat wears the same style of Crown as Lamb, but in purple. They have larger, curved horns and non-curly hair. Their cloak is purple (with a lighter purple stripe) and their bell is white. They've got a very... smug cat face.

Based on this frame, I don't think Goat is quite "alive". You can see them through the sword in pink. They're something non-permanenent, like when we turn our Followers into demons.

Cast in the lighthouse light again, they turn their Crown into an axe. They attack the Enforcer in this shot where the lighthouse is very prominent. (Also more Enforcers have arrived)

Then there's this symbol again as they cut the Enforcer in two. The force of which shatters the ground.

In-game, Goat is summoned from a pool of Ichor, like a demon. Based on the arch the ichor follows, we most likely summon them with a relic. They're summoned using white magic. Lamb's eyes typically turn red when summoning anything. The Goat most likely exists on a "meta level" as Player 2, and as an in-game NPC for people who don't have someone to play with.

Finally, the splash art. Goat and Lamb touch palms, seemingly combining their Crowns in some way, on another magic circle. This specifically is likely the "unholy alliance" this update is named after. The symbols we can see are all used in alchemy. This star seems to be the one that appears when the Red Crown speaks to us as a snake.

Goat uses pink, ground-shattering magic like they do in the animated trailer. But it's interesting to see Lamb using green magic. New curse maybe?

And an 'X' to add to my conspiracy board...

#cult of the lamb #cotl theory #cotl #cult of the lamb theory #cotl unholy alliance #tfw youre your own character but everyone just thinks youre alternate universe lamb #cotl goat

423 notes · View notes

threepandas · 6 months ago

Text

Bad End: In Bad Faith

Summoning spells hurt.

Reality? It doesn't want to let you go. Whether you see it or not, you are attached. Part of the very fabric of the universe. Your atoms blending into the mess that is creation, on a level so small, that the human eye can not possibly catch it. Where you begin and end? Doesn't. Not really.

We are part of a tapestry, incomprehensible in scope. Mere designs. Details. Parts of it's ever sprawling beauty and horror. And? Woven in as we are? Part of it, as we are?

It does not want to let go.

Will, in fact, FIGHT not to let go. To Summon? Is an unnatural act. Many, foolishly, believe it's not. But... that is because they mistake Transportation magics with Summoning. With swapping a design's location upon the weave... with ripping it OUT.

In one? You take what is not yours. In the other? You're just rearranging what's there.

Nature (and indeed, the very Gods themselves) abhor Summonings, along with the vacuums they create. So, one must ask; How could they be called "Holy"? Such a painful, unnatural, divinely detested thing? Who in their right mind, would EVER do such a thing? Would cross the very Gods, as Summon in Their Name?

King's of course.

High Priests of the Holiest of Temples. Rich in gold and jewels, power and influence. Full of decadence and the surety of their own pure, pure souls. So much BETTER then the masses. So much HIGHER then the rabble. Poisoned on their own twisted faith. When given the choice between their God and Power? Faith and Fortune?

They would not be able to hear their God screaming, were he to stand right in front of them. But of course, they act in HIS Name.

I can feel it. Day in and day out. He looks upon his so called "Chosen" and is SICK.

Summoning hurts. My body, my soul, torn and stretch between to places. Until something gave. Were it not for the mercy of My God? I would have arrive at this end in chunks. A paste! Shredded beyond comprehension, killed beyond even mortal flesh. My very SOUL would have-!

The Universe SCREAMED as I was torn out of it. Like a fist full of fabric, made of person, of living flesh and bone, was gored out of a living thing. It was a disembowling. A calculated mauling. All burning light and tearing void. Chanting voices that dragged like hooking chains.

I... I can't even remember what I was doing that day. The sheer pain of it all? Overwhelms everything else in my memories. Left me delirious and weak. A puppet to be hoisted up and declared holy. A success. Stripped of my old clothes and anointed in oils and silks, finery and holy things.

A Holy Maiden.

In response, of course, to the King's Holy Maiden. Which was supposedly delivered by the God of Shining Light. She is very... perky, I am told. A plucky and endearing child. For all she is treated as some woman grown. She... she means well, even as she blunders through messes of her own creation. It is easy to tell. But all told? Anyone can tell you. She sounds... young. So very young.

Gods, what is she even DOING here? What are either of us? Every day, I can only pray the girl is safe. Because? I know. I know, I can not help her.

I am trapped.

She is trapped.

Whether she realizes it or not. Can see past the pretty smiles and fancy set dressing, to the unrelenting iron bars she can't escape. Though her chains are gilded and far longer then my own. She is a prop, a tool, in the hands of power. We both are. And neither of us asked to be, were given a choice. No... no we were simply taken from our homes.

Sometimes...? I catch the edges of something familiar. Beyond the Temple that is my cage. Hints of news or bits of gossip. When Worshipers or servants don't notice me nearby. I think? Possibly. We may have landed in an Otome game, her and I. But I can not be certain. It may simply be the only framework I have, for situations like this.

I wonder what my role is, in all this. If I even have one. Since I am kept like a trinket and holy trophy. Adored but not obeyed. No purpose beyond my supposed Holiness. Worshipped AT in the place of the God they know damn well they have angered. Though, through out all this? And, out of all of them? Worst, of all of them? Is the man who... who covets me.

There really is no other word for it, with the way he behaves. What else could it one call it? As he haunts the gilded cage he has created. The way his eyes track me, obsessive and cataloging, predatory and hunting. Picking apart my every action for meaning, for preference.

Trying to pry from me, my every thought and desire. As if to crack open my mind and read it's secrets. As though observing some sweet little creature, in it's natural habitat; And not his prisoner, in the pretty little cage he had made.

Forcing me to choose, again and again, between pretending not to notice? And engaging once again with my captor. Knowing all the while, if I so much as smile? Dared to so much as soften my expression?

I would be flooded, by whatever had caught me eye.

A lovely flower? Every room would be choked by them. Buried by them. The gardens filled and filled, until I begged for change. A good meal? I would get nothing else. Over and over, until all joy was stripped of it. Until I was sick of it. Could no longer stand the sight of it. Clothing, books, or paintings? Piles fit to beggar nations.

But the gods forbid, I EVER smile at people. Oh no. They were unworthy, you see.

The Grand Priest? Did not like when the filthy, unworthy, sacrilegious masses, dared to touch HIS Most Holy Maiden Of The God's. Or when I noticed them. Looked at any of them too long. Was "forced" to acknowledge they even existed. Gods forbid speaking to them! A sermon to the faithful was one thing! That could be allowed, if they purified themselves throughly, but the unwashed masses?

Gods, No.

Absolutely no such sacrilege would take part on HIS watch! By his word, his decree from on high, it was verboten.

It was...

Unquestionably, I knew, it was the antithesis of the Gentle Dark. That very God that had held my soul together. Through his unnatural summoning; That Very God, he SUPPOSEDLY swore too? Worshipped? Everything I prayed too. Reached my soul out too, in His kindness? For just a moment's escape? That very God.

From my God, to whom I prayed. Who anchored me, in these uncertain waters. All I could feel was His concern. For me, whom he could do little to aid. And His disgust. At what was being done in His name. As though rot had been smeared upon His flesh, vile and abhorrent. He recoiled, sickened, reaching for the safety of distant, faithful halls.

"Praying again, most Holy?" Came from the shadows, cool and soft. A pleasant voice to match a pleasant appearance. As though that was all that held meaning. "Even in your diligence and purity, you can not live on prayer alone, most Holy. I am afraid we will have to end you prayers for the day. So that you may eat. This humble servant has brought you offerings to choice from..."

He trailed off meaningfully. Wanted me to ask. A favorite game of his, this little trick. A verbal set up. Prompting you to ask this or that, engage him just a bit more, here or there. Get dragged into talking to him, dispite not wanting anything to do with him. He dangles bait. Shiny and enticing, just within reach. Hoping you'll take it.

Like a fishing lure.

No, actually, I don't want to know what dinner is. I, in fact, SHALL ignore why you call them "offerings". Yes, I DO plan to refuse to engage. Grey wall. Nonresponse, just all the way down. Boring, really.

You may be able to keep me here? But by the Gentle Dark, I CAN make this as miserable for you as possible. There shall be no Happy Little Family charades. No "content within my cage." No playing along to appease you.

(Quitely, but with FEELING, I say onto you! Get FUCKED.)

"A night of contemplations, I see. Understandable. Heavy are the shoulders that hold the heavens." That's Blasphemy, you heretical BASTARD. With a capital "B". To BOTH! No. NO. Do not engage. It's what he wan-! "You will be relieved, then, to know we are one step closer to disposing of that heretical whore."

I twitched. Hands squeezing each other until they were a white knuckled grip, to keep me from lashing out. Breathing in deep and slow, to try and fill my lungs with patience. The strength needed, not to not lash out. My jaw clenching hard as it battled the words snarling to escape.

(You leave that CHILD THE FUCK ALONE, YOU CREEP. She is sixteen! Seventeen AT BEST! She SHOULDN'T BE HERE! Should be safe. Meeting up with friends or chatting about interests. As she lounges, safe, at HOME. Going to school! Not getting dragged into politics! Tarted up and told to play soilder! Made a FUCKING RELIGIOUS LEADER!!!)

(Inside me, the Gentle Dark seethes and howls. Who is this man? To try and kill a Protected Child of The God's own Brother? What is Dark without Light? Light without Dark? Who are THEY to suggest the gods want anything but Balance?!)

Rising to my feet, I can not stay here. If I do, I may try and bludgeon my captor with an alter bowl. Desperately careful not to take my rage out on the alter before me, I run through the steps to finish my prayers. Gently. Gently. My God does NOT deserve misdirected wrath. Through gritted teeth, I force my breathe to be even. With tense muscles, I refuse to so much as look at him.

I DESPISE.

"How beautiful."

Like vile spiders and the sweeping prick of claws, his foul admiration sweeps over me. Disgusting. Hateful. Abhorrent and unholy. It is as though, the colder I become? The angrier and more disdainful? The more captivated, he becomes.

Twisting and twisting me, into some sort of disdainful god for him to worship. Abusing this soft house of benevolence, to make his self-harm somehow Holy. Coveting the Divine even as he refuses Them. It is... horrifying. A soul deep wrong.

A kinder woman would seek to understand "WHY?"...

I am not that kinder woman, I think.

"You are angry that I failed you, when all you ask of me is worship. Unity." He declares to my back. Once again projecting what he wants to believe, regardless of what I do or do not say. I have already given up trying. He lives in his own delusion, prefers it really. "Forgive me."

Ignoring him, I begin to walk away. Let him monolog in peace. Talk to the Idea of me, if he's so desperate! He can paint my face upon a wall, for all he needs my ACTUAL input. Sadly, however, I do not get far. With a swish of silks, knees hitting marble, my skirt train is caught in covetous hands. Jerking me to a stop. I turn.

"Ah..." He is kneeling, as though praying at my feet, my skirt's edge pressed to his face. His voice is... almost a sigh. Monotone, yet dancing the edge of obscene. "Oh, Most Holy, forgive your most loyal dog. Look only at me, I serve only thee, does my worship not please you?"

"Do you want more?"

He looked up, eyes meeting mine. There was fire and death there. Madness and burning. Religious zealotry churned and twisted into obsession, with his self made God. What did he even see? When he looked at me? It was almost... ironic. That the Grand Priest of the Gentle Dark, would BURN with such Scorching.

The Priests of the Shining Light would have noticed. Would have warned him. Helped him. No doubt why he avoided them. The monsters of their Gods, clouded his mind... and yet? And YET?

He was a Grand Priest.

No beast could take his soul, that HE did not ALLOW.

He was a monster of his own becoming. I wondered... in this moment... was THIS how he gained the power to Summon me? What damned DEALS did he MAKE? Does he seek to corrupt me? Turn me from the Gentle Dark to the Endless Dark? Something crueler? Colder still?

Disgust. Refusal. Rage.

"Oh." His voice wavered, obscene as he sucked in air, even as his eyes widened up at me. Hands reflexively clenching at my skirts. A jagged grin, of too many teeth, slowly carved its way across his face. Transfixed. Unhinged. As he shuddered.

"Magnificent, my Goddess. So Pure. So Clean. Mine and mine alone. I alone, am Worthy. Your most loyal soldier. Your most DEVOUT worshiper. I will give you the World. Everything, my queen. My lady. My Master of the heavens. Ha ha ha! Mine."

"All mine!"

"Amen."

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yanblr #reader insert #yanderecore #yandere otome isekai #yandere otome #long post #tw heresy #tw religious themes #tw religion #fantasy religion #yandere priest #holy maiden reader #trapped reader

156 notes · View notes