#unfortunately it's been a very VERY dry summer where i am and i have been deprived of a good rainy day at home for far too long | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

idiosymphony · 1 year

Text

少年の日の思い出：Das Nachtpfauenauge, by Hermann Hesse

Note: This story is translated from Japanese to English, but its original language is German. I could not find an English translation anywhere online, but I cannot speak German, so I referenced both the German and Japanese text to create this translation. Its German title means “The Peacock Moth” and the Japanese title means “Memories from the Days of Boyhood”. Although this story is very famous in Japan, as it features in a middle school textbook, it is little known elsewhere.

Translation is under the cut.

My guest, having returned from the evening walk, sat down close to me in my study. Daylight had begun to fade away. Outside the window, a faded lake stretched far into the distance, fringed sharply by a hilly shore. My youngest son had just bode me goodnight, and so we began to speak of our childhood memories.

“Ever since I had my children, my childhood habits and interests have come back to me. In fact, for a year now I’ve been collecting butterflies again. Shall I show you?” I said.

And my guest asked to see, so I went to fetch my light cardboard box that held my collection. Opening the first box, I finally noticed how completely dark it was. I took my lamp and struck a match. The outside scenery became shrouded in darkness, the entire window closed off into the opaque blue of the night.

My butterflies glittered brightly in the box, illuminated by the bright light of the lamp. We sat hunched over it, gazing at the beautiful shapes and brilliant dark colours, naming the butterflies.

“This is the Yellow Bands Underwing, Fulminea in Latin. It’s quite rare around here.” I said.

My friend carefully took out one of the butterflies from the box, without removing its pin, and looked at the back of its wings.

“How odd. Nothing arouses memories of my childhood quite as strongly as the sight of butterflies. When I was a young boy, I was a passionate collector.” He said.

And he pinned the butterfly back to where it was, and said, “I’ve seen enough.”

He spoke quickly, as if the memory was unpleasant for him. After I had swiftly put back the box and returned, he gave me a faint smile and requested a cigarette from me.

“Take no offense,” he then said, “although did not give your collection a proper look. When I was a child, I also collected butterflies, but unfortunately I have tarnished those memories through my own fault. Really, it’s almost too embarrassing to speak of, but let me tell you this story.”

***

When I was around eight or nine years of age, I began collecting butterflies. At first, I was not particularly passionate, but simply did it because it was popular. However, on the second summer when I was around ten years old, I had become completely captivated by this game.

I poured all my heart into this game, putting off everything else around me. It had gotten to a point where everyone often thought to make me stop. When going out to catch butterflies, I was deaf to the clock in the tower chiming, be it schooltime or lunchtime. During vacations, I often trotted around from early morning till night without coming home to eat, bringing with me only a slice of bread in my botanical specimen bag.

Even now, when I look at beautiful butterflies, I feel that same passion deeply within me. When this happens, for a split second I am gripped by that indescribable, ravenous, enthralling feeling that only a child can experience. It’s that feeling I had as a boy, when I first snuck up to a yellow swallowtail.

And during those times, I immediately recall the numerous moments in my youth. The scorching afternoons in the strong-scented, dry wilderness. The cool mornings in the garden, the mystical evenings on the edge of the forest. I would lie in wait with my net, like a man searching for treasure.

And when I found a beautiful butterfly⁠—it didn’t matter if it wasn’t particularly rare⁠—perched on a flower in the sunshine, its wings rising and falling with its breaths, the joy of capturing it would almost suffocate me. As I crept up to it gradually, making out each shining speck of colour, each crystal-clear feather veins, each fine auburn hairs on its antennae, I could barely contain my nervousness and delight. I did not often feel such mixture of subtle joy and intense desire.

As my parents did not give me sophisticated equipment, I had to keep my collection in an old, crumpled cardboard box. I would cut out a piece of cork from a wine stopper, and paste it to the bottom of it. There, I would stick my pins into it. Between the crushed edges of this box, I kept my treasures.

At first, I would often happily show my collections to my friends. But the others would have wooden boxes with glass lids, cages with green gauze pasted onto them, and other such luxurious items. And so I was unable to boast about my childish equipment. On the contrary, even if I had a significant and reputable finding or catch, I would keep it a secret and only show it to my younger sisters.

One time, I caught a Freyer’s Purple Emperor, which was rare around where we lived. I spread its wings to display it, and once it dried, I was so pleased with myself that I decided to show it only to the boy next door.

This boy was a teacher’s son, who lived across the courtyard. He possessed the vice of faultlessness, which was twice as off-putting for a child. Although his collection was small and meager, its neatness and precise care made each one appear to be a single gem. What’s more, he was familiar with the extremely difficult and rare technique of using animal glue to patch together damaged or broken wings.

In any case, he was a model boy by all counts. And due to this, I envied, admired and despised him.

I showed this boy my Freyer’s Purple Emperor. He expertly appraised it, acknowledged its rarity, and priced it at about 20 Pfennig. However, he then began to find fault, complaining about the way I had spread its wings, how its right antenna was bent, how its left antenna was stretched out. And on top of that, he correctly discovered the glaring flaw of two missing legs.

Although I did not think much of these shortcomings, the merciless critique greatly wounded the joy I had for my catch. And so I never again showed him my catches.

Two years had passed, and we had become older boys, but my passion was still at its climax. Around then, rumors spread that Emil next door had hatched a Peacock Moth from its chrysalis. Right now, if I were to hear that an acquaintance had inherited a million marks, or if a lost book from Livy had been found, I would not be as excited as I was then.

Not one of my friends had caught a Peacock Moth as of yet. I had only seen it once, in an old book of butterflies I owned. Out of the ones I had known the name of but didn’t have in my box, there was nothing else I had wanted as fervently as the Peacock Moth. Over and over again, I gazed at its illustration in my book.

One friend told me this: When the amber butterfly is perched on a tree bark or a rock, and a bird or another threat attempts to attack it, the butterfly would unfold its blackish front feathers and show off its beautiful back feathers. But because those large shining splotches present a very strange and unexpected appearance, the bird is struck by fear and ceases to engage with it.

Hearing that Emil was in possession of this mysterious butterfly, I became overwhelmed with excitement and could not wait until I could see it. After lunch, when I was allowed out, I immediately hopped the courtyard and headed into the neighbor’s house. I went up to the fourth storey, and the teacher’s son had his own room, albeit small. There’s no telling how jealous I was.

While making my journey, I did not meet anyone. I arrived upstairs and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Emil was not home. I pulled the door handle, and noticed the entrance was unlocked.

I entered, wanting to at least see that butterfly. And I immediately picked up the two large boxes that Emil kept his collection in. I couldn’t find it in either box, but I was thinking perhaps it was still on the setting block.

And there it was. Its velvet amber wings spread out with thin paper, the Peacock Moth was pinned onto the setting block. I leaned over it, poring closely over the reddish-brown hairy antennae, the elegant edges of its wings with an indescribable color, the wool-like hairs on the inside edges of its back wings. Unfortunately, I could not see its famous splotches. It was hidden underneath the thin piece of paper.

Heart thrumming in my chest, I lost to the temptation of wanting to remove the piece of paper and pulled out the pin. And the four splotches, large and mysterious, much more beautiful and brilliant than the one in my book, stared at me.

Looking at it, I was overcome with an irresistible desire to obtain this treasure. And for the first time in my life, I committed an act of theft.

I pulled the clip gently. The butterfly was already dry, and so it did not lose its shape. I placed it in my palm and took it out of Emil’s room. At that moment, I felt nothing but great satisfaction.

Hiding the butterfly in my right hand, I went down the stairs. Immediately after, I heard someone heading up towards me. At that moment, my conscience awakened. I suddenly realized that I was a thief, a despicable sort.

At the same time, I was struck with a horrific anxiety that someone may discover me. I instinctively hid my hand into my shirt pocket, with the catch still inside. I continued to walk, but my body shook with a cold feeling that I had done something most appalling and shameful.

I crossed paths with the maid heading upstairs, frightened out of my skin. My heart pounded. Sweat gathered at my forehead. I completely lost my composure. Terrified of myself, I stood by the house’s entrance.

Immediately, I understood that I could not, and should not keep holding onto this butterfly. I must return it to where it was, and if I could, pretend that nothing had ever happened.

Though I intensely feared bumping into someone and being discovered, I hurriedly retraced my steps and ran back upstairs. A minute later, I was standing in Emil’s room again. I removed my hand from my pocket, placing the butterfly on the table.

Without even taking a closer look, I already understood what misfortune had taken place. I was pushed to the verge of tears. The Peacock Moth had been crushed. One forewing and one antenna was missing, and when I cautiously pulled the broken wing out of my pocket, I found it torn to pieces, beyond mending.

The sight of the beautiful, rare butterfly I had destroyed tormented my heart more than the feeling of theft. I saw the delicate amber wing dust sticking to my fingers, and the torn wing lying close by. I would have happily given up any possession or passion, if it meant I could make it whole once more.

I went home sad, and sat in our small garden until evening, until at last I gathered up the courage to tell my mother everything. My mother reacted with shock and sadness, but seemed to feel that making this confession caused me to suffer more than any punishment.

“You must go over to Emil’s,” she said firmly, “and tell him so yourself. You may offer him to pick something out from your possessions, to make up for it. And you must ask for his forgiveness.”

If it had been anyone but that model boy, I would have immediately felt inclined to do so. I had a definitive feeling in advance that he would not understand me, nor attempt to believe me. It eventually became night, but I did not feel like going over. My mother found me in the courtyard and whispered to me, “It has to be today. Now, go.”

And so, I went over, and asked for Emil. He came out and told me that someone had ruined his Peacock Moth, and that he didn’t know whether a bad guy or a cat had done it. I asked him to show me the butterfly. We went up, he lit the candle, and I saw the ruined butterfly on the setting block. I saw the marks of the efforts Emil had made to restore it, but there was no mending that. The antenna was indeed still missing.

Now, I said it was me who did it, and attempted to elaborate and explain. Emil did not rail or yell at me, but instead clicked his tongue lowly and looked at me silently for a while. And then, he said: “I see, I see. So that’s how you are.”

I told him I’d give him all my toys, but he still held his icy posture and looked at me in contempt. And so I told him he could have all the butterflies in my collection. However, he said: “No, thank you. I already know all of your collection. And today I got to see how you handle butterflies.”

At that moment, I came very close to leaping at his throat. There was nothing that could be done anymore. It was already decided that I was a scoundrel, and Emil stood in front of me coldly, as if to represent the very laws of the world, shielded by justice, disparaging me. He did not even insult me. He only gazed at me in contempt.

That’s when I realized for the first time, once something had happened, it could no longer be atoned for. I left, and was glad that my mother did not pry but left me alone after a kiss. “Go to bed,” she told me. It was quite late for me. But before I did so, I quietly went to the dining room and fetched my large amber cardboard box. I put it on my bed, opening it up in the darkness. And then I took out the butterflies one by one, and crushed them to dust with my fingers.

#hermann hesse #literature #translation

19 notes · View notes

bethanythebogwitch · 10 months

Text

For the July 5th Wet Beast Wednesday I was going to do a 4th of July special where I would cover the "state" fish of Washington DC, the American shad. Unfortunately, the American shad is not a very interesting fish so instead I'm covering the amphiuma. It still kind of counts because they're endemic to the southeastern United States. Amphiumas are salamanders belonging to the genus of the same name. There are three extant species, the three-toed, two-toed, and one-toed amphiuma. Common nicknames for them include conger eels and Congo snakes, both of which are incorrect as they are not snakes, not eels, and not from the Congo. They are notable for their serpentine appearance and almost entirely aquatic lifestyles.

(image: a two-toed amphiuma)

Amphiumas have a very elongated, eel-like body plan. Their limbs are extremely reduced, but have not been fully lost and species can be identified by the number of toes. They live almost their entire lives underwater, though they have been seen crawling out onto land during wet weather such as rainstorms. As many live in seasonal wetlands or other places that can dry out, they have developed the ability to aestivate, a form of hibernation that happens during the summer and conserves moisture. They also secrete a thick and slippery coating of mucus that serves a number of purposes including protection of the skin, keeping the skin wet, and helping escape from predators. Amphiumas can get very large for salamanders, especially the three-toed and two-toed species, which can reach over a meter in length each. The two-toed amphiuma is the longest salamander in North America, though the hellbender still takes the record for the largest. They are primarily carnivores, feeding on small fish, snakes, turtles, amphibians, the occasional mammal, aquatic invertebrates, and occasionally plants. They seem to have a particular taste for crayfish. Interestingly, they have been seen passing up smaller crayfish to focus on larger ones, indicating they can determine when prey will be too insubstantial to be worth the effort of eating it. They can communicate with each other using clicking sounds that are only made in the presence of others.

(image: am amphiuma looking adorable)

They retain a number of juvenile traits including a lateral line. This is an organ system found in fish and amphibians that detects movement of the water and changes in water pressure. Most salamanders only have a lateral line as larvae, but the almost-fully aquatic lifestyle of the amphiuma has led to it retaining the lateral line into adulthood. Unlike some other aquatic salamanders, including the siren, axolotl, and olm, amphiumas do not retain external gills as adults, though they do retain gill arches. While they can respirate through their skin, the amount of oxygen obtained in this manner is not sufficient to keep the amphiuma alive. Amphiumas have extremely large lungs that take up about half of their body length. The group has a unique respiration cycle in which they have to exhale twice to fully empty their lungs and use a combination of mouth and nostril pressurization and smooth muscle groups in the lungs to breathe.

(image: an amphiuma with its mouth open)

Male amphiumas are usually longer and have larger heads than females. While traits like this often indicate male-to-male competition for mates, this has not been observed in amphiumas. In addition, some populations do not have this type of sexual dimorphism. Females are typically the ones to court males. Pair will coil their bodies around each other until their cloacas line up. The male will then transfer a sperm packet into the female's cloaca. Females will pick a secluded area to lay their eggs, up to 200 at a time, in a long strand. The female will coil around her eggs to protect them until they hatch. Females generally mate every other year.

(image: somebody holding an amphiuma)

Amphiumas are not dangerous to humans, though they can deliver a painful bite if disturbed. None of the species are endangered, though the one-toed amphiuma is considered near-threatened and is the leas understood of the species.

(image: a one-toed amphiuma)

#wet beast wednesday #biology #zoology #ecology #aquatic biology #amphiuma #salamander #animal fact #slimy boi

15 notes · View notes

abucketofweird · 2 months

Text

Having sensory processing issues is a very distressing part of my life that I don’t share with people often and one of the larger reasons is that I can’t express how disabling it can be:

I have been dealing with some sort of burnout for the past year and the biggest thing that helps me function slightly better is sleeping well. Except I shower at night (because my hair takes so long to dry that it would freeze on my head if I left my house hours later but I can’t handle the way my body reacts to the heat and noise of a blow dryer) and my skin becomes extra sensitive it seems afterwards. I spent years cultivating a wardrobe that was safe for me to wear and yet every single fabric my skin touches for hours after I shower is irritating and almost painful. I need to be fully dressed to sleep. Unfortunately I am not someone who can fall asleep naked, to the point where the summer tests my limits every time I try to wear something that might work but is also too hot/too little coverage/too sweaty to handle another thing on my body. The best thing I could do would be to stay standing (because my sheets burn) for hours without moving which isn’t possible when you were only able to force yourself to shower at 2 am after hours of being frozen. Leading to even more sleep deprivation.

Anyways I am currently dealing with sleep loss and could fix that except I physically don’t want any piece of my skin touching something else…while at the same time just wanting to be fully covered.

So when I tell you I haven’t been able to wear my favorite clothing it’s not a sad fashion/comfort thing. It’s a way that my disability negatively impacts things in a way that forces all of my other coping mechanisms to fail until I’m sobbing at everything because it’s devolved into a full scale meltdown.

#autstic #actually autistic #spd #sensory processing disorder #sensory issues #autism #autistic adult #nerodivergent #audhd #adhd #actually adhd

2 notes · View notes

isuckatwritingsobenice · 1 year

Note

Can I request yandere dipper x fem!s/o hc who gives off wedsenday addam's vibes? (and has a thing) from the 2022 show? thanks

anon 🖤💀

Of course! Thank you so much for your request!

Navigation

Art not mine!

You caught his attention quickly, well, to be fair you catch everyone’s attention quickly

You stood out a lot in California, for your clothes but also because of your personality

Maybe if you had moved to Gravity falls you would’ve been stuck with Robbie instead

Your family had built a house on a hill, similar to the Northwest family, the only difference being your family’s house looked… old, and very out of date, but that’s why your family loved it

Dipper had seen you sitting on the sidewalk looking in a book and that was it for him

He didn’t approach you, not like he needed too you already knew he was staring at you

However, when you both had gotten to school and Dipper saw you in his class he knew it was for sure over for him

The teacher had been asking everyone ice breakers, trying to get to know them

“ Y/n would you like to tell us a little bit about yourself?” Your teacher had asked, and suddenly all eyes were on you.

“ No, I think I’m quite fine.” You replied, tone dry and filled with a uninterested look back down to your book.

“ Y/n I think it would be nice for us all to get to know you. There’s no need to be shy.” The teacher said smiling, trying her hardest to get you to talk. To no avail.

“ If you insist. My name is Y/n, I hate everything and a fun fact for you all is bother me again the only thing you’ll be asking yourself is where your bones went while I dip you in acid limb by limb.”

Dipper blushed, partially out of fear and partially out of infatuation

After class you had been sitting in the library all alone for lunch. You had a book in front of you and a sandwich next to you.

“ This is it Dipper. Time to talk to her.” He thought, before walking over. As he reached for the chair in front of you, you stood up putting your hand out to stop him.

“ No I am not interested being your friend. No I do not want to do any extracurricular activities with you. I will not be in your presence longer than I need to be. I’ve seen you before and I wish I would’ve gouged my eyes out that very movement. Do not try to talk or approach me again or it will be your immortal soul that pays the price. Laisse-moi tranquille. Have a horrible day.”

With that you took your things and left, leaving a confused and heart-broken Dipper in your wake. But this doesn’t stop him, not one bit.

It makes him want you even more.

He stares at you a lot, and you know this, and every time your eyes meet you’re sure to give him a death stare, to which he looks away.

Unfortunately for you, your teacher had paired you both up for a project. You wanted to die, per usual. Dipper was over the moon.

“ So when do you want to get started on the project?” Dipper asked as you both sat in silence. While the rest of the groups were chatting.

“ As soon as possible. I fear being around you too long will infect me with the one disease I am not immune too.” You stated, never blinking once. Dipper raised his brow, nervous as he began o sweat a bit.

“ Um, can I ask what disease?” Dipper asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.

“ Socializing.”

It takes you a long time to even have a conversation that lasts more than two minutes with Dipper

He caught your interest by mentioning an abandoned house he was going to check out with Mabel

it caught your attention

and dipper noticed

he was so happy to finally be able to do something with you, to bond

“ Do you want to come with us?” Dipper asked, as you both were cleaning up from your project

“ Hm. I suppose. It’s either that or I rein-act the time I first went to summer camp.” You replied, earning a confused look from Dipper.

“ What happened?” Dipper asked

“ I burned the pilgrim set to the ground and escaped.” You replied, before walking away from him and out of the classroom with your things

You know he likes you

You also know that gets extremely nervous whenever you both are close to one another

“ I assume it’s because he’s close to death whenever we’re together.” You tell your mother, as you pack your bag to get ready to go to the abandoned house

“ Have fun sweetheart. Bring back a corpse if you can. I need new decore for my dining room.” You say as your mother kisses your cheek.

When you met with Dipper and his sister, Mabel

“ Hi! I’m Mabel, Dipper’s twin.” She said excitedly, before going to hug you. You stopped, holding your hand out with a scared look.

“ I don’t hug.” You said, before she giggled.

“ Aww don’t be shy, everyone hugs.” She said smiling before coming closer to try and hug you.

“ Mabel really,” Dipper said, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her to face him

“ She said she doesn’t hug leave her alone.”

You were secretly grateful Dipper interrupted his sister, as you all made your way into the abandoned house

“ I’m going to the basement.” You said, earning a surprised look from Mabel

“ Isn’t that the worst part of the house?” You asked.

“ Yes. I will rejoice in despair as I become one with the spirits left behind.” You said, descending down the stair case.

“ I’ll go with you.” Dipper said not leaving room to retaliate

“ Is it dead?” Dipper asked as you both came across an unmoving mouse

“ Does it matter?” You asked, walking past it. As you got to a dark corner you took your bag and placed it in front of you,

“ Thing. Grab that mouse and put it in this jar, don’t let Dipper see. Something is off about this house, that mouse might help us know why.” You say, letting thing sit on the ground.

“ Oh also,” You said, thing standing still

“ Something is weird with Dipper. He’s overly clingy. follow him for a while and report back.”

Thing waved his hand around, saying he wasn’t going to stalk a child

“ What if he’s a shape shifter? We would never know if you don’t find out. stop whining and go.” Begrudgingly thing left, and you emerged from the shadows, watching Dipper look at the walls of the basement.

‘I know there’s something off about you Dipper pines.’ You thought.

#yandere gravity falls #gravity falls pacifica #gravity falls #yandere dipper pines #dipper pines x reader #dipper pines #mabel pines x reader #yandere mabel pines #stanford pines

35 notes · View notes

kumoriyami-xiuzhen · 2 years

Text

Hakuoki Character Drama CD Book Vol 1 - Okita

Alright! This is my first post of the month, so I’ll start by asking you to please support me if you can through my ko-fi, and paypal or patreon! Finally got my patreon back in order almost until the start of October though I now have a headache from translating so much lol! Sorry it took so long! Not sure what I’ll do for December yet as I’m considering translating just the 2020 CxM X-mas story and the only other Café Enchante content I have, and then subtitling the rest of the month... as I really would like to get a head-start on my 2023 queue (aka yuugiroku) and want time to get my video stuff out of the way.

Also, I’m 100% certain that I’ll be shipping the Hakumyu Shinkai Saito-hen Blu-ray I’ve ordered this month since my proxy address has received the Morimyu CDs along with some other things that I was looking for, and I am getting super impatient... plus I helped my brother pre-order two FE3H figurines from Japan so anything else is going to be consolidated when shipping those.

Anyway. I ended up going with deciding to translate all of these Character Dramas... mainly because of Saito’s (obviously due to bias and bias>all :P), but most of them did make me smile while reading them... Slight angst warning for this one though cuz it’s souji hahaha.

enjoy!

Hakuoki Character Drama CD Book Volume 1 Okita Souji-hen - Autumn Leaves Sentiments (not 100% bout the title name again)

Translation by KumoriYami

Act 1

Time: morning

Location: Bedroom

SE: the sound of sparrows

Yukimura:.....Nn.

【The sunlight stung me when I opened my eyes. The rain/storm windows [literally rain window] opened as they swayed, and chilling feeling from the autumn wind coming in, reminded me that summer had passed.】

Yukimura: Huh? Why is the window open...

【I looked over to Souji-san, who should have been sleeping beside me.】

Yukimura; Eh? Souji-san, where did you go?

【I used my hand to check where Souji-san had slept in bed, but I wasn't able to feel any heat [word I have is 'temperature'], so it seems like he hadn't just left. As I hurriedly got up, someone from behind suddenly stopped me. 】

Okita: Ah, you're already up. You could have slept a while longer.

【Hearing that familiar voice, I turned my head and saw Souji-san, who was apparently in a good mood.】

Yukimura: Souji-san! Where did you go in your night clothes [alt: pajamas, but given the time period 'night clothes' felt more appropriate...]?

Okita: I woke up too early. After seeing your cute sleeping face, I thought of this..... here, for you.

【As he spoke, Souji-san decorated my hair with something.】

Yukimura: ? What is this...?

Okita: They're Momiji leaves [the tl i use translates to "red autumnal leaves", but since "紅葉 " is in the JP title, I'll be using that term, “momiji”, which are Japanese maple trees.]. The last time I picked wild vegetables with you, I found a maple tree. Afterwards, I realized that it was almost time for the maple leaves to be in season. Actually I originally wanted to come home before you got up to scare you, but that unfortunately failed.

【Once he said that, Souji-san stuck out his tongue with a mischievous expression. Seeing that expression, I couldn't say that I felt uneasy because he had left me by myself...】

Yukimura: Really.... in that case, shouldn't you have left a note?

【Souji-san showed an apologetic expression to me, who was a little angry.】

Okita: Sorry, I was only thinking about making you happy when I went out. As an apology, after finishing breakfast, I'll bring you to see the maple tree.

【With that, Okita-san pressed his index finger over his mouth, as if he were he were keeping a secret.】

Yukimura: hehe, I understand. Then let's go after eating breakfast, and once I finish drying our wet clothes [I'm assuming this is supposed to be "laundry"].

Okita: Eh, if you want to dry the laundry, you can do it tomorrow. I want to show you right away. It really is very pretty. The tree is dyed in red and yellow, it really resembles a dessert/almost like a snack.

Yukimura: I'm looking forward to it, but I must hang my clothes well before going. More importantly, isn't it cold outside? You'll catch a cold when you go in your night clothes.

Okita: Ah, speaking of which, it did seem a bit cold. Because all I was thinking about was the momiji leaves, I didn't notice it that much. But you don't need to worry, I'm fine.

Yukimura: The next time you go out, you must remember to change your clothes.

Okita: Nn, I'll change my clothes then. I don't want to make you worry.... Haaah [this is a yawn. i don't know what's the best sfx text to use], maybe I got up too early this morning, Maybe I got up too early in the morning, I'm still sleepy.

Yukimura: Then go to sleep for a bit, alright? I'll go prepare breakfast, I'll wake you up once it's ready.

Okita: Nn, that so. But, it's fine to have breakfast a little later, come and sleep with me.

【With that, Souji-san pulled my hand and tried to pull me back under the covers.】

Yukimura: But, I'm already awake...

Okita; If you can't sleep, just stay with me until I fall asleep before leaving.

Yukimura: In that case, won't we be too late to see the momiji leaves?

Okita: Oh, how bothersome. Then I'd better get up and get changed.

Yukimura: Then I'll go change and go prepare breakfast.

Okita: Ah, wait.

【With that, Okita-san put his hand on my head.】

Okita: Good morning.

【He smiled at me.】

--------

Act 2

Time: Noon

Location: Outside

SE: footsteps

Okita: Autumn is coming. You're right, wind is getting colder outside. Aah, I won't be able to take a nap in the sun soon.

【As Souji-san walked, he expressed his regret that summer was coming to an end.】

Yukimura: Ah, Souji-san truly loves taking naps on the grass.

Okita: Nn. It's fine now, but it's not doable in the winter. Although sleeping in a room isn't bad, it's more comfortable to sleep outside [when/where] the wind is blowing.

Yukimura: Speaking of which, while we were still in Kyoto, you would often take naps /

Okita: Indeed. At the time I often took naps on the roof to hide from the annoying HIjikata-san. Ahaha, I haven't fallen down even once.

Yukimura: Sleeping on the roof... Don't do that sort of danger thing in the future again.

Okita: I won't. Because I don't need to sneakily hide around like that anymore, and rather want you to take more care of me.

Yukimura: Really... Souji-san is always like this...

【As I spoke, I stared at Souji-san. There was something I always wanted to say to him... so I might as well take the opportunity...】

Okita: Since you're staring at me, is there something wrong?

Yukimura: Well, I find taking it's very comfortable to take a nap, but if you take too many naps, won't you be unable to sleep at night?

Okita: I'm glad that you're worrying about me, but I'll still be able to fall asleep. Because as long as you're lying down next to me, I can fall asleep immediately if I hold onto you. Don't you think so?

Yukimura: That's right.

Okita: As long as I'm holding you as you sleep/If I sleep with you in my arms, I will always fall asleep immediately. That way, even when it comes time for us to part, I feel that I'll always be with you... such a thing is obviously impossible.

【With that, Souji-san held my hand that he was tightly holding even tighter. His hand was gentle and soft, and I grasped his hand.】

Okita: I'm so happy that I'm able to walk with hand in hand with you like this, it's terrifying. We'll be there soon, so don't let go of my hand.

Yukimura: Yes!

-time lapse-

【After a while, we reached the momiji trees.】

Yukimura; Wow, how beautiful!

【The entire tree was adorned with red maple leaves, and looked truly unreal.】

Okita: Rights, it's really beautiful.

【Souji-san wasn't looking at the momiji leaves, but rather at me, and his expression seemed very satisfied. [reword later. the sentence structure is screwed up... but im lazy and have a tendency to follow what the tl does until i need to worry about subtitling]】

Okita: That's great. I just wanted to see you with that expression.

Yukimura: Thank you, Souji-san. You brought me to see such beautiful momiji.

【After expressing my thanks, Souji-san revealed a smile, and he finally looked towards the maple trees.】

Okita:....Ah, you may not remember, but this isn't the first time we've gone together to enjoy momiji. A long time ago... although I don't remember the exact time, but on the way back from a patrol, I brought you to mountains in Kyoto. At the time, while it was only the two of us, the feeling was completely different from now.

Yukimura;....I remember. It was quite windy that day, but the maple leaves were also very beautiful.

【Okita-san seemed to be startled by what I said. It seems that he didn't think I would have remembered. Then, Souji-san sat beneath a huge momiji tree and waved to me, so I sat down next to him. 】

Okita: I'm certain, that during that time, I started paying attention to you because you were the first person to listen to my jokes... No, it was just Kondou-san and you.

Yukimura:........

Okita: I didn't expect to recall that upon seeing these momiji, and how I would always say mean things to you. I hope you can forget that, at look at how I am now.

Yukimura: No, I won't forget that. Because that's an important memory from before I met Souji-san and when we lived here together.

Okita: That's really amazing, since you put it that way, it seems that it's become a very important memory.... Well, it's not that there are no memories that you want to forget. But the time we spent together with everyone is still firmly kept in my mind [reword later?].

【With that, Souji-san placed a hand over his chest, and I put my hand over his.】

Yukimura: Please don't forget any of your memories. Because we've been able to live together like this today, all of those memories have accumulated.

Okita:....Well, yeah. No that won't do, I always let you see how weak I am. In fact, I want you to depend on me a bit more.

Yukimura: I am always depending on Souji-san. I'm able to live peacefully in my hometown now because Souji-san is here.

Okita; I'm happy that you're able to say that.

【With that, Souji-san lifted his head and looked at the momiji.】

Okita: Let's go back after looking at these for a while. I really like looking at stuff together with you like this.

Yukimura: Nn, I like that too.

【Thus, the two of us snuggled up together and looked up at the momiji.】

--------

Act 3:

Time: Evening

Location: Bedroom

【After making the bed, I used one of the momiji leaves I had picked as a bookmark. At that moment, Souji-san came in from behind. 】

SE: Footsteps

Okita; What are you doing?

Yukimura: I want to make something out of the momiji leaves we brought back today as a souvenir/memento...

【As I said this, I put the maple leaf into the book that was in my hands. As a result, in order to not interfere [tl is 'disturb' or 'bother'] Souji-san hugged me from behind...】

Okita: As a souvenir from today, is it. If only we could ? I wish we could commemorate more [things like this] for just the two of us in the future/["I wish we could create more memories for the two of us in the future".... i suppose would work?].

【As he spoke, Souji-san gazed sleepily at the book that the leaf had been put into it. Seeing him like this, I knew what he was thinking.】

Yukimura: We'll be together in the future, won't we?

【To alleviate my uneasiness, I said something like that.】

Okita: Nn, we'll always be together.

【Souji-san only said one sentence, and smiled.】

Okita: Okay, let's go to sleep. [I/We. got no subject in this sentence..] walked a lot today, and seem to be quite tired.

Yukimura: Okay.

【With that, we laid down together. After putting out the light, I closed eyes, but drowsiness didn't come... just then, Souji-san suddenly spoke. 】

Okita: Hey, are you asleep?

【Hearing Souji-san's words, I opened my eyes.】

Yukimura: No

Okita; Before falling asleep, I want to ask you something. Getting up in the morning... going for a walk together after eating breakfast, eating together, and then falling asleep like this...

What do you think of such an ordinary day?

【In the face of Souj-san's slightly impatient question, I thought of my response for a moment. 】

Yukimura: I think it's just because it's so normal, that's why its a very important day. I'm very happy to be able to live peacefully with Souji-san like this.

Okita: hehe, it's great that you can say that. But I think differently.

【With that, Souji-san patted my head.】

Okita: Being able to spend my days peacefully with my lover/spouse, is already extraordinary for me. Every day when I wake up, you're right beside me, eating the meals you've cooked together, walking with you while holding your hand, and sleeping with you... For me, everything is already a miracle.

I want to spend every day with you together like this.

【Perhaps seeing the unease in my heart, Souji-san deliberately spoke in a gentle words to reassure me. 】

Yukimura: I love you, Souji-san.

Okita: Nn, I love you too

【After that, he gently kissed my forehead. Listening to Souji-san's words, my mind was at ease, and I finally closed my eyes. I could vaguely hear Souji-san's voice.... 】

Okita: Good night, see you tomorrow.

【I fell fast asleep】

Starring: Okita Souji.... Morikubo Showtaro

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

Like the Hijika one I translated for last week, I put in the -san suffix everywhere I though it would likely go. This is also going to be the last time I mention this... cuz I’m lazy.

#hakuoki #hakuouki #hakuoki drama cd #hakuoki drama #hakuoki drama translation #Okita Souji #Yukimura Chizuru

29 notes · View notes

more-than-a-princess · 1 year

Text

Continued from here for @litoredeem!

It was kind of him, Sonia thought, to play along with her whims. Though, beyond protecting her life, that was what Riku was hired for. Except this time, Sonia's whims were entirely focused on his appeal and benefit. Not that she greatly opposed a beach day: it was rather like having a small holiday. Once that would unfortunately end sooner than she'd like, but that made it all too similar to a week or two spent in St. Tropez, or Cannes, or Capri.

Just as well: it wasn't anything like her extravagant beach holidays at home, but it seemed to bring peace to him. For once, he didn't look so stone-faced: he actually looked content, which was close enough to happy for Sonia. "Yes you, of course," She smiled, pushing her hair out of her face in order to keep the wind from blowing it back in. "You are the one between the two of us who had a childhood by the sea. Mine was surrounded by mountains, lakes, rivers, and plenty of green hills. At least when there wasn't snow on them. But no beaches to be found."

It stood to question then, if Riku was asked to accompany her to Novoselic, how much he'd enjoy it there. The climate, for one: not only a lack of beach but summer was only three months out of the year, and it didn't get terribly hot to boot. Nothing like the heat and humidity of a Japanese summer. Breezy weather, rain, and snow were much more prominent: excellent for that multitude of green hills, but not so much ifone preferred the tropics.

"I am not sure about that, I can imagine all sorts of things," Sonia retorted as she, with her sandals in one hand and her tote bag in the other, stepped into the surf in her bare feet. She shivered: she hadn't expected it to be so cold, but it wasn't unpleasantly so. Just a surprise, and a refreshing one at that. "Have you, for example, ever cut a watermelon with a sword whilst blindfolded like they do in the anime?" She asked, wiggling her toes in the water and clumpy, wet sand. It felt nice all the same. "Or built a large fire and told stories deep into the night? Both of those sound like great fun!"

But Riku seemed to have other plans, ones that made Sonia's eyes light up as she stepped out of the water and back onto dry sand, to see where he was pointing. "I have not been in a rowboat!" She exclaimed, far too eager to tell him that they were against the rules with a big smile on her face. "My family always deemed them far too unsafe for me, like motorcycles and roller coasters are. Though I would very much like to experience all of them! There was a park, near my old high school, that in the spring and summer they would have similar boats with oars, or grandiose boats shaped like swans or some such thing that you pedaled, rather like a bicycle. I remember during the cherry blossom season I wanted to try them, but I was determined to row and pedal myself! My friends or lovers at the time, well, they did not have much faith in my abilities to keep the boats afloat and moving along on my own so we never tried them. I wonder, then, if it would be the most awful thing to capsize."

If anything, it was a rowboat, not a ship lost at sea in a violent storm. They'd probably just need towels and a warm drink after. And besides, she doubted Riku would hold the same scruples. At least if she asked nicely, he'd likely let her row for a bit. And she wouldn't take no for an answer this time, or give him a chance to talk his way out of it. "Come on," She said, taking his hand in hers, beginning to lead him towards the boats. "Let us inquire how we may go about renting one! And you could tell me about the places you've rowed to at home. Perhaps Okinawa has caves or lagoons of some sort to explore?" It wasn't the sort of boat one took for travels, but for a day's, or a couple hours at least, excursion? It looked ideal, and far more exciting than going laps around and across a pond.

"I have never used oars, but there shall be a first time for many things!" Would she be taking their lives into her hands? Possibly. But certainly it was worth it, for the smile on her face.

#litoredeem #Non-Despair AU: University verse #(If a crab starts singing to them I will laugh-)#(The sea life realizing they have to intervene or else these two are hopeless)#(At least Sonia can talk!)#(Though this could be seen as Riku kidnapping a princess. Yet again.)#(I know nothing about Ki.ng.dom He.arts except the most important things)#(Sonia dislikes being compared to Dis.ney princesses but she has some things in common with a few)

1 note · View note

landinoandco · 3 years

Text

Our Love is a Game

Lando Norris x Reader

Request from @jamieeboulos

Warnings: pinch of fluff, cute ending because they are the best

Word count: 2.7 k

Requests are open :)

It all started with a phone number, an innocent exchange that would subsequently change the world you knew; mostly for the better. When you had met Lando, as far as you were concerned you had just met a 21 year old who lived in London and had a passion for cars. How wrong you were. It was only when things started to get serious that he sat you down and explained everything that came with being a formula one driver; more importantly the fandom that he was involved in.

You had always been a private person and admittedly this piece of information almost broke your relationship but after some time to think you had decided that he was worth it all. You both decided it was a better idea to keep your relationship as quiet as possible - you took every precaution to make sure you stayed a stranger to the fans.

For the past 2 years, you thought you had managed to stay clear of the cameras, the photos and the twitch streams but it wasn’t until a fan-made compilation caused your world to spiral out of control.

You and Lando were out for a run, it was a part of your morning routine - a great way to start the day and it was time that you two could escape the motor sport world and act like a normal couple without worrying about who might be watching. It was time you both valued and appreciated. On this particular morning, Lando had decided to add to his Instagram story, a short video of his morning adventures - the mist still hanging around the trees as you ran under a heavily graffitied bridge, the early birds song chirping animatedly. At the time you didn’t think much of it as you were too busy tying your hair back up to notice.

It wasn’t until you got home and looked at his story that your heart stopped, rushing over to the kitchen island you placed your phone down and ran your fingers through your hair. It was a blink and you’ll miss it moment but in the corner of his video - the last millisecond before it ended - there was a flash of a purple top (the purple top you had been wearing) and a swish of brown hair as you chucked it back up into a ponytail.

“Lando.” You called out, trying to keep your voice as calm as you could. You didn’t know why it had affected you so much - or why you were so desperate to keep your identity a secret. It wasn’t like you wanted to hide your relationship; you were the happiest you ever had been, everyday was exciting and offered new prospects - it was more that you were so used to being in this bubble with Lando, the idea of it bursting seemed rather unappealing. Usually you didn’t care for how others saw you but seeing some of the words that people used to describe him, it would be enough to trouble even the thickest of skins.

Lando’s close proximity broke your thoughts as he stared down at your phone, pausing on the flash of brown and purple. “I am so sorry, love.” He almost whispered, his eyes widening at his carelessness. He picked your phone up to take a closer look.

“It will be alright, won’t it? I mean, it’s a blink and you’ll miss it.” You had said, more to reassure yourself than Lando. He didn’t answer, anxiety building in the pit of his stomach because he knew exactly what he had started.

The fan-made compilation didn’t go viral until a few hours later - as it turns out that flash of purple was the perfect cherry on top of an unappetising cake. Lando was sat on stream - not that this was out of the ordinary and Max had decided to join him, leaving you alone to rewatch Friends for the umpteenth time.

The pair were sat reacting to videos on YouTube when a clip of a seal swimming into a shoal of fish started playing - the amusing part was that they kept quickly dispersing away from the seal in question. Unsurprisingly, they laughed and Lando spluttered: “This is me trying to find a girlfriend.” What the fans didn’t know was the apparent irony of that sentence and this was what caused the major meltdown; whilst Lando and Max were busy crying with laughter - that chat had filled up with the same link and references to the video you would be redirected through.

Max was the first to stop laughing, tapping Lando on the shoulder as he pointed at the chat. Hundreds of the same message filled the screen: “That’s not what this compilation shows.” “Lando, what are you hiding from us?” “Lando and Max laughing knowing very well he has a girlfriend.”

“Chat what on earth are you waffling on about.” Max chuckled uneasily, looking at Lando out of the corner of his eye. Lando sat with a forced smile, his nostrils flaring as he continued through the comments. He could only let out a tense laugh as he swallowed thickly - his throat feeling suddenly dry. You were still sitting, completely engrossed and unaware that Lando Norris was now trending on twitter.

Max had come up with an excuse to end the stream not long after, Lando uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were with you in the other room, had you seen it? Did you know? How would you react? He felt as though he had lost all control, like he had failed you entirely - all he wanted to do was protect you yet he was the one to screw it up.

“Hey,” Max nudged his shoulder, “It was bound to happen at some point. Let’s go and see if she’s seen it - if not then -” He took a deep breath, “We will watch it together. We need to know what we are working with here.” Lando nodded, unable to reply, his body went into automatic pilot mode and too quickly he was standing facing you.

Pausing the tv, you looked at Lando - his jaw tightened and facial expressions set as though he had just seen a ghost. “Is everything ok?” You asked apprehensively.

“There’s something you need to see.” Max reached for his phone, pushing Lando onto the sofa. You offered your arm to Lando, pulling him into a hug. Max pulled up the video and pressed play. A tense atmosphere held the room hostage - breath restricted and gazes fixed onto the tiny screen in front of you.

It started with a clip from this year’s Goodwood - Lando preparing to drive his last hill climb - you remembered it well, a McLaren hat placed on your head mainly to cover your identity; knowing that there would be more than a few fans around. The clip moved to 3 separate stills - all of you in your McLaren hat. One with your back to the camera, you hand placed around Lando’s waist, the other two a side profile as you spoke to Max.

The reaction was immediate, you slapped your hand to your mouth, Lando looked horror-struck and Max was watching you carefully.

The video moved on, this time a clip from the quadrant video where Niran trains like Lando for 24 hours - Lando and Niran were in the kitchen preparing to eat their breakfast when once again the video moved to stills. This time they were of your reflection in the oven - holding the camera. You had thought at the time, if you were behind the camera it would stop every chance of you accidentally being caught on camera. Apparently not.

The video had moved on again, this time to stills of Lando arriving on track - of course there was no way for you to get on track without being photographed and you were fine with that because you would just arrive after Lando either with Jon or Charlotte. Photos of you arriving with Jon and Charlotte flashed up - with them you were just another member of staff but put with those other stills and it really did yell out that you and Lando were romantically involved. Finally the flash of purple from Lando’s story. The game was up.

“Oh my-” You stuttered as the video came to an end. Fortunately your Instagram hadn’t been shown but judged by how skilled you knew the fans to be - it would only be a matter of time. “I feel sick.” You admitted, wiping your hands across your face. Lando still hadn’t said a word, staring blankly at the floor. Max was the first to come up with something logical, turning to you and Lando.

“It will blow over.” He started, “The fans will soon lose interest and move onto the next big headline. We just need to ignore anything we see regarding the subject.” He moved his attention to you. “Maybe avoid social media for a few days. Let everyone cool down -” Sensing your means to interrupt, he held his hand up. “I know you shouldn’t have to and I know none of this is fair but unfortunately people have no boundaries and believe because it’s on social media it is their business. If they were in our situation, I’m pretty sure they would be the first to complain. Let’s just go along with it for now. It will give you time to think about what to do next.”

Lando cleared his throat, pulling you closer into him. “I’ve failed you. All I wanted to do was protect you.” At this, Max got up and left.

Shaking your head, you pressed your lips to his forehead. “You could never. Think about how long we kept it secret for. Besides, until we announce or admit anything - it isn’t confirmed.” You offered, trying to soothe his worries. He nodded, still not convinced.

“Our love is like a game and it’s not a game I enjoy playing.” He croaked, lacing your fingers together.

“I know, Lando, I know. Let’s let everything calm down and then we can think about what our next step is.”

Weeks later and it was the night before you were due to leave for your summer holiday. You would be spending it with Lando and some of his friends and family. Due to the current pandemic, it had been so long since you had been away - even if it was a bigger group of you going; you were still looking forward to spending that quality time with Lando.

Max had decided to take himself and Tom off to the streaming room - leaving you and Lando to sort out the remaining items you needed for your time away.

“I have a present for you.” He said suddenly, his hands behind his back. You beamed, taking a step closer to him. He shook his head, “If you want it - “ He pointed at his lips.

Rolling your eyes, you pecked his lips then held out your hands like a child. Lando chuckled, “Close your eyes.” Hands still outstretched and eyes closed, you waited for Lando to present you with your surprise. He grasped your left wrist and attached something to it - “No peeking.” He added. A moment or two later, he dropped his hold of your wrist and said: “You can open them now.” You could hear the smile on his lips. You opened your eyes and looked straight to your wrist - he had given you a pink watch. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him, his eyes twinkled as he then pointed to the orange watch on his wrist.

“Watches?” You asked, confusion laced your tone.

Nodding, he said, “We all have matching watches but in different colours - they are for our holiday away.”

You gave him a lopsided grin and wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love it. Thank you.”

In the streaming room, Max was having to ignore the majority of the comments because they were all asking the same thing: “Who was the girl from the compilation.” He was trying his hardest to keep moving off the topic, instead showing off the watches - it had been his idea, blue for him, orange for Lando, a child’s watch for Tom and a pink watch for you. He had listed off all of the colours and said who they belonged to: “And then pink-” He paused, mentally face palming. He looked over to Tom for assistance - he hadn’t meant to say pink at all. “And pink is for someone.” He cursed his poor excuse but as if by magic - Lando walked through the door.

Distracting the stream from his slip up.

Croatia was a dream come true, the hot summer sun on your back and the time to just relax and recharge. Days spent with Lando sunbathing on the boat or stuck in a tense game of Uno. Not being the only female was brilliant as well - as they got to go off and not feel guilty about leaving you on your own.

Currently, you and Lando were standing in each other's arms - the afternoon drawing into the evening as the sun began to set. You had your arms around his neck and his arms were around your waist, sighing contentedly you broke the silence: “This is nice.” He pressed his lips into your hair, a sign that he agreed with your statement. In that moment, it was just you and him - everyone seemed to disappear from around you and all worries vanished. It was the simple yet affectionate moments that had always meant the most to you. You felt as though you could relax every muscle in your body, listening to his steady heartbeat - you wished for this moment to never end, to forever be in his arms and to not worry about who sees you there.

Ever since that compilation had been made, the thought had been on your mind a lot. Were you ready to go public with Lando? At the end of the day you were both happy and surely that was the most important thing.

Later that night, you were sitting eating your meal when a phone was handed to you, displayed on it was a picture of you and Lando - in each other’s arms.

Instantly you knew what this meant, looking at Lando you were met with the same expression. He did as well.

You and Lando had decided it was time to announce your relationship, there was no point sneaking around anymore if people knew and were looking out for you. You had agreed that the best way to do it was if you joined him in a stream, that way they got to know you a bit more for who you were.

“Is it ok to feel as nervous as I am?” You asked him, pulling up a chair beside him. He was setting up the stream, two mugs of tea placed in front of you. It seemed completely unnatural to sit facing the camera.

“I mean, this is kind of a big deal so yes I would say, it’s completely natural for you to feel nervous.” He reached for your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. Nodding, you took a deep breath.

“Ok. I’m ready.” You said, your heart beating at a million miles an hour. The corners of his lips turned up, leaning in to leave you a kiss on the lips.

“I love you and I’m so proud of you.” He admitted quietly, as though you were the only person in the world, his eyes flickered with complete adoration.

“I love you too. Now, shall we start it?”

Lando went to press the start stream button but paused. He turned back to face you, his eyes wide and offered an apologetic smile.

“What did you do?” You asked, a smile toying at your lips as you had an idea of what it might have been.

“Stream, meet my girlfriend.”

He had already started it...

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #mclaren #lando norris oneshot #lando norris fanfiction #f1 2021 #f1 imagine #f1blr #formula one #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one fanfiction #lando norris one shot #f1 requests #lando norris request #lando norris blurb

324 notes · View notes

wheelsup · 3 years

Text

the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

<- prev | next ->

Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon.

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you.

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger.

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week.

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept.

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling.

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you.

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!”

Your head just about exploded when she said that.

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you.

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.”

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless?

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.”

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim.

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured.

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?”

“That his girlfriend died last year.”

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there.

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit.

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…”

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.”

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from.

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not.

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made.

“There’s nothing I need from you.”

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?”

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea.

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more.

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off.

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.”

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch.

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!”

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales.

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets.

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down.

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works.

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so.

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.”

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend.

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?”

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income.

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended.

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill.

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe.

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.”

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped.

“Did you need something?”

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!”

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.”

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line.

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?”

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.”

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care.

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him.

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.”

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.”

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency.

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that.

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here.

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?”

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.”

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before.

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath.

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly.

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.”

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer.

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you.

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems.

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that.

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that.

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him.

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.”

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

thank you so much for being on my taglist 💕

if you’d like to join, the link is at the top of my masterlist

@ellesgreenaway @suburban–gothic @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @andreasworlsboring101 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @reidgifs @you-sunshine @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @amoeebaa @reidingmelodies @reidyoulikeabook @anaagraceeberr @spencerreid9 @luvofyourlifeliv @averyhotchner @spencerreidat3am @paw71211 @princesssmooshie @gubeskneescrew @gourdboy @reid-me-a-story @reidabookforonce @willowrose99 @singularityjc @spencerreid9 @miahelen @alltooreid @meganskane @multixfandomwriter @coldlilheart @lunajoyce3 @boldlyvoid @destiny-tsukino @ahhahahhh @spencers-dria @cocomoo1 @spenxerslut @thehuntresswolf @ssa-natalya-reid @the-chaotic-cow @kuolonsyoja @queenofthepouges @gublersss @username2002 @msspencerreid @itwouldburnupintheatmosphere @oeuryale @big-galaxy-chaos @reidsacademia @idonotexiste @rem-ariiana @spencerreidscumwhore @spaceapplehead @newgirlinhell @noellestrash @jswessie187 @reidaissance @violetclifford @fruitoftheweek @mystical-and-modern-marauder @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mlqcool @opheli-yeah @lytrc @youabitchhhh @spencerscumrag @dinonuggets1967 @flowerchildprotectiveservices @annalayton19 @mrsobrien888 @toast-on-t0ast @xoxospencerreid @motionlessgirl12 @bloodyxheaven @my-thoughts-are-weird @rexorangecouny @nani-2305 @measure-in-pain @donald4spiderman @mrs-dr-reid @manuosorioh @sapphic-prentiss @reid-me-a-story @reblogsoffanfics @winifrede @peoniarose @takeyourleap-of-faith @morks-watermelon @silverhetdanes @luwheezey @cc13723things @starrylang @b00b133 @kidd3ath @seastarapiaries @sergiosbae @mrsobrien888 @jesuisbenny @cocomoo1 @youabitchhhh @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @silverhetdanes @onlyhereforthefanfics @shesalatesh @amoeebaa @happymangospot @spencersrose @mugi-chwan @reidsadriana @death-becomes-her @nyx2021 @subbyspencereid @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @nomajdetective @cherriesrae @bisexual-virgin @jasminearondottir @gublur @greenrevolutionary @honeyedheartss @gspenc @sweetandsunny @the-chaotic-cow @morganwilliams @futuremrsreid @spencerreidsmommy @meanergreener

series only taglist: @madsgraygubler @manuosorioh @fanfictionfangirl04@donkeykongsmassiveballs @rexorangecouny @iwannabemorethanme@mlqcool @lightning-butterfly

new tags not working: @strawberrycherrykisses @marrymespencerreid @iilwsr @chelsea-the-enchanted @craybae1116

(and just so you don’t think i removed you from the taglist/sign up again without knowing, these tags are. also not working): @pissbit @redevil590 @kaz-2y567 @datsimplol @reid-to-me @rem-ariiana @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @spencerswildestdreams1 @sskylarpaige26 @zbgubler @nyasiablack1899 @faithsamantha @chrisdylan17 @just_arandomwriter @peterisbetterthanpietro @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @chloehanson

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid series #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid slow burn #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid enemies to lovers #criminal minds fic #mgg

359 notes · View notes

starlightstevie · 3 years

Text

fics rec / january 2021

And I’m back with another fic rec! There’s some absolute goodies in this month’s rec - I hope you enjoy them as much as I did! Happy reading x

(* is smut)

*tale as old as time (series) by @spacelabrathor Beast!Thor x reader: Thor is a beast, prowling the halls of an empty castle alone, living a life of cold, barren solitude. Villagers visit once yearly to bring him gifts he does not seek, piling valueless trinkets at his gate they feel will keep him appeased. They hate Thor and Thor knows, someday, that they will breach his gates and come for his head. He wonders to himself, often, if he will try to stop them when they do. This year, though, the offering has changed. Thor finds not trinkets at his front gate, but a girl, and then everything begins to change.

COWBOY THOR COWBOY THOR COWBOY THOR by @inthorantine While not officially out yet, I am putting this here because everyone needs to read this! Kait has outdone herself and no, I will not stop talking about this for the next 500 years. Here’s some h/c to keep you going until it comes out! One | Two

*if I love you was a promise by @blueberrythor Thor x reader: Thor doesn’t consider himself a jealous man–there aren’t many who could compare to him, especially among mortals. He hasn’t had much reason to acquaint himself with the feeling. But watching you with Steve, even he isn’t immune to the sharp sting of jealousy.

*The Watching by @opheliadawnwalker3 Thor x reader (some Loki x reader): Reader has been dating Thor for about a year and is celebrating her first Yuletide on Asgard. But she’s unprepared for certain traditions that are expected of her. Or that these traditions also involve Thor and his companions.

*Desperate Measures by @lancsnerd Thor x reader: When an agent is affected by sex pollen and needs assistance, just how helpful will Thor be?

*passionate & burning by @peachyteabuck Thor x reader: You’re busy with working from home, but Thor has other plans for the day.

*my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand by @spacelabrathor Frontier!Thor x reader: Thor makes a home and a life for his family out on the rugged frontier of the Old West. The winters are unforgiving but he keeps them safe and warm. At night, their cabin glows with firelight and the warmth of their company. A small slice of their life together.

*survive the summer and its sequel *hungry for me by @peachyteabuck (Dubcon) Thor x reader: A stranger approaches you on a warm summers day.

*the fluffer (series) by @punani Masterlist 70′s pornstar!Chris Evans x black!reader: It’s the 70′s and the erotic videos industry is experiencing another boom after the risen popularity in the previous decade. The studio’s are hot, Gemini Flanagan is a brand, and you’re a newly hired assistant at Shaggin’ Studios. Chris takes a liking to you, altering your job description so that you get to work more closely with him. Is this all just physical, or is there something more?

*old flannel by @honeysucklesteve Chris x reader: an innocent night of lounging in his old flannel leads to not to innocent touches.

*sunday football by @honeysucklesteve Chris x reader: Chris sits you on his lap as he teaches you all about football.

*grocery run by @honeysucklesteve Chris x reader: Innocently wearing Chris’ shirt leads to you finding out just how much he can’t resist you.

*Captain by @chrissquares Nomad!Steve x reader: You call Steve a name that drives him wild.

*A Birthday Gift by @the-iceni-bitch Nomad!Steve x reader: The nomad crew have been holed up with you for months and tensions are high. Nat, being an unrepentant pot stirrer, decides to arrange a pleasant birthday surprise for you.

*let me come home to you (series) by @evansweaters Masterlist Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader: After years at a dead-end job shouldering everyone’s expectations for you but your own, you’re finally free to be whoever you want, go wherever you want. That is, until a series of unfortunate events strand you in amber’s end, where the sheriff – and notoriously unmated pack alpha – decides to take you in.

*mountainside by @honeysucklesteve Nomad!Steve x reader: Steve needs something to give him a release and you do just that.

*steve needs to relax, good thing you’re here by @honeysucklesteve

*Such a Shame by @angrythingstarlight Steve x reader: You owe him for saving your life, the price is more than you were willing to pay, such a shame you have to force his hand.

*Captain Jealousy by @nony-bear Steve x reader: You and Steve have been keeping your relationship a secret to avoid public backlash for your age difference. However, after watching Steve flirt with a new agent at one of Tony Stark’s famous parties, your jealousy and frustration come to a head.

*A Christmas Compromise by @stargazingfangirl18 Ransom x reader: Even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself, all you wanted for Christmas was Ransom.

*a man of god by @punani Priest!Ransom x reader: You’ve always been a good girl– attending mass regularly, never been touched by yourself or another, and the way that you dress? a naive innocence radiates off of you. even a man of god can’t help himself, not that he puts any effort into refraining from forbidden fruit.

*Naughty or Nice by @sweeterthanthis Ransom x reader: Getting caught nibbling on forbidden holiday treats.

*her cherry lips on his whiskey flavoured kiss by @cloudystevie Ransom x reader: The moment he met you, he knew.

Not My Style by @chrissquares Ransom x reader: With cold weather comes dry lips..

*In Good Hands by @ozarkthedog (Dark) Doctor!Andy Barber x reader: Your usual OBGYN Doctor got called away leaving Dr. Barber to administer your pap exam.

*Drowning by @savior-adriana Andy x reader: You love working as Jacob’s tutor in German. Not necessarily because you love the language or the teen’s attitude, but because it means you get to spend time alone with a certain Andy Barber once a week.

*Something Old, Something New by @sweeterthanthis Stepdad!Bucky x reader: To this day you couldn’t work out why he’d chosen your mother. They were total opposites, a mismatched couple if ever you saw one. Yet, you watched it play out – thinking, hoping, that he’d never go through with it.

*Beg for Daddy by @sweeterthanthis Stepdad!Bucky x reader: The thought of your mother passed out next door, the other side of your bedroom wall, did nothing to quell the intense hunger you felt for him.

*it’s the right time to roll to me (series) by @blueberrythor Masterlist Bucky x married!reader: Stuck in an unhappy marriage, you find solace in Bucky.

*about last week by @xbuchananbarnes Bucky x reader: You’ve been avoiding Bucky.

*need by @cloudystevie Bucky x reader: You’re horni for Bonky’s metal hand

Season of the Witch by @msmarvelwrites Bucky x reader: Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much.

*The Bet (series) by @no-droids Part One | Part Two Poe x reader: There are 3 rules to the bet between you and your x-wing commander: No sex, No touching yourself, No orgasms.

*the shakes by @whistlingwillows Poe x reader: “It’s the Shakes, darling. Makes everything excruciating.” Or, you’re experiencing the terrible side effects of being horny and Poe Dameron knows just how to fix it.

Mornings with Modern!Poe by @okay-hotshot Modern!Poe x reader: You and Poe try to have some alone time while you wait for your morning coffee and tea to brew, only to have your child interrupt you and run away yowling.

frigid by @whirlybirbs Mando x reader: Din doesn’t like the ocean. You’re soaked.

Getting vulnerable with Mando by @cptnbvcks

*men of the bau: kinks by @luciilferss

open road by @gayprentiss Emily Prentiss x JJ Jareau: After retiring from the BAU, JJ and Emily decide to forgo an apartment in favor of an old sprinter van.

*Teacher’s Pet by @imagining-in-the-margins Professor!Reid x reader: There are only a few reasons to sign up for Criminal Psychology. You could be like the reasonable students and join the class because you are genuinely interested in the material, or you could be like the rest of us. That is, you could enroll in the class because the professor is a fine piece of ass fresh out of prison.

*Spencer taking you in the library by @spenciebabie

*of terrible coffee and late-night rides by @venusbarnes Hotch x reader: A collection of moments throughout your relationship with one Aaron Hotchner.

*fragrance by @whistlingwillows College!Hotch x reader: Plato said, “The god of love lives in a state of need. It is a need. It is an urge. It is a homeostatic imbalance. Like hunger and thirst, it's almost impossible to stamp out.”

*bitter end (series) by @whistlingwillows Masterlist Hotch x reader: Author Sarah Dessen wrote, “Life is an awful, ugly place to not have a best friend.”

*Beard Kink by @reidsexualwriting Hotch x reader: Hotch with a beard has you feeling all types of ways.

*Lunch break by @arganfics Hotch x reader: You help Hotch relax after a tough day.

*Early Mornings by @mrvltwimagines Hotch x reader: The very rare mornings where you wake up and your boyfriend was still home and in bed were definitely cherished by you.

*Do you like that? Being in control? by @writefasttalkevenfaster Hotch x reader: You decide that Hotch needs a break from being in charge.

*Waking up Hotch with a blowjob by @writefasttalkevenfaster

Taking a day off with Hotch by @ssahoodrathotchner

*eat until your blood sings by @peachyteabuck Tony Stark x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers x Clint Barton x Thor Odinson x reader: Gangbang with the Avengers.

*Anakin Skywalker has a big dick by @anakinswhore

517 notes · View notes

earliebirb · 3 years

Text

nosedive

steve/tony, fluff, (newly) established relationship, 3250 words

Tony stares absentmindedly out the airplane window as he puts his phone up to his ear, watching people run back and forth, performing last-minute engine checks. Some of the guys look sweaty and out of breath.

From the comfort of the air-conditioned Stark Industries private jet, he feels a slight twinge of sympathy for the people having to suffer in the humid summer heat.

He loosens his tie and sinks deeply into his seat, closing his eyes with a massive yawn as he listens to the ringing tone. He hadn’t been able to sleep very well throughout his five-day stay in Tokyo, too anxious about the contract to rest properly.

The ringing tone goes on for a few more seconds before ending with a click, replaced by an achingly familiar voice greeting him in his ear.

“Hello?”

Tony’s eyes spring open. Outside, an aircraft marshaller walks by, speaking rapidly into his walkie-talkie.

“I had a blueberry muffin for lunch today. One single blueberry muffin.”

“...What?”

“It didn’t even taste that good. I couldn’t finish it. Too dry.”

“Tony, that’s not good. Is that all you had for lunch? You should really eat—”

“The meeting went well, by the way. Mr. Watanabe finally signed the contract, everything went as planned. My ride to the airport, however…”

“I told you things would go smoothly, you had nothing to worry about. You’re a brilliant negotiator—”

“The traffic? Fuck. I had to keep shifting in my seat to avoid pins and needles.”

“That sounds awful, are your legs okay—”

“Did you know that Tokyo is number nineteen on the list of cities with the worst traffic congestion in the world? I know that, because I looked it up on the way to the airport. But boy, did it feel like it deserved the number one spot. I think I lost feeling in my ass.”

“I did not know that. And, uh, is your ass okay—”

“Thank God for my private jet. These plush seats are the best things I’ve ever spent my money on.”

“That’s objectively not true, and you know it—”

“Then again, I think these seats in particular were Pepper’s choice? We remodeled the airplane’s interior like… two years ago. I couldn’t be bothered to meet with the airplane seat people and I just told her to pick whichever looked best. I had much more important things to tend to, like sewing up the holes in JARVIS’s Christmas stocking.”

“I am concerned about how you sort your list of priorities—”

“Hm, that’s right. I think it was around two, three weeks before Christmas and I didn’t want JARVIS to be upset about the whole stocking thing, you know?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have—”

“Also, you’re right, the single blueberry muffin was a bad idea because now my stomach won’t shut up. So I’ve ordered some pasta for my in-flight meal. Robbie’s making it, you’ve met Robbie—”

“I’ve met Robbie, yes, he’s—”

“Larry’s replacement after he resigned. Gotta say, I was sad to see Larry go. Guy worked for me for seven years. But then there was that thing with his grandma, and he had to leave, so… But! Robbie makes a mean carbonara, maybe even better than Larry, don’t tell Larry I said that—”

“I don’t even know Larry like that, how would I—”

“Mr. Stark, we’re ready to go.” The pilot—Paul—emerges from the cockpit, staring at him in anticipation.

Tony nods and makes a few rapid gestures with his free hand that he supposes Paul is only able to interpret perfectly after years and years of working for Tony. The gestures roughly translate to something like “Copy, I hear you, just let me wrap this up and then I’ll let you know when I’m done. Capiche?”

Paul—bless him—just gives him a curt nod and retreats back into the cockpit.

“Anyway,” Tony takes a deep breath and puffs his cheeks out with the exertion of his exhale, “I called because… I got a feeling, Steve.”

“A… feeling?”

“Just— A gut feeling. A feeling in your gut. Inside of me. Like a hunch?”

“Okay,” Steve says patiently, his voice low and warm, “what are you feeling?”

“I… got a bad feeling. Today. A few hours ago. The feeling came to me when I was sitting in traffic, and I just— I feel like something bad’s gonna happen today, Steve. I can feel it in the air. In my heart. In my gut. In my joints.”

“Your joints? Like… the feeling old people get when it’s about to rain?”

“Okay, maybe not in my joints. Also, are you calling me old, grandpa?”

“I did not, you told me you felt something in your—”

“Anyway, so yeah. Where was I? Oh, right. Feeling. Bad feeling. Like, like, I don’t know, something bad’s gonna happen. Like an accident. Like a plane crash.”

“God, please don’t say that. You’re scaring me, Tony.”

“And I guess, I just called because I… I feel like I need to do this before the plane crashes and I die a violent and fiery death.”

“Nothing bad’s going to happen, Tony—”

“Like, if I didn’t do this today, maybe I’d never get to do it, you know? And, uh, okay, I’ve honestly been ranting to stall for time, but the longer I keep it in the more nauseous I feel, so maybe I’m just gonna do it now so I can die in peace—”

“Do what? And stop saying that—”

“Look, I’m trying to be brave and honest here and— Wait, actually? Maybe I’m being a coward because if the plane actually does go down, I won’t have to face the consequences of my actions, so I guess I’m just going to say fuck it, and say that I love you.”

“The plane is not going to— Wait, what?”

“I, uh. Love you. I’ve known it for a while now. And, uh, I know we’ve only been dating for like, a week, but—” Tony blinks. They’ve only been dating for a week.

“...Fuck.” Tony can feel his own pulse starting to race. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Tony?”

They’ve only been dating for a week. What is he doing? What the hell is wrong with him? Normal people don’t do this.

“Fuck. Shit, I mean— Uh, I’m sorry. That was super weird, huh?” Tony laughs nervously. He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth and cursing his stupid brain. Of course it’s weird. He always gets too attached to people way too quickly. No wonder Pepper was his only long term relationship. She was the only person who could put up with him—everyone else just got weirded out. “Uh, see you tomorrow? Or not. Fuck, sorry, I’m just gonna hang up before this gets—”

“Tony, wait.”

“...Yeah?” Tony says, hyper-aware of how breathless he sounds. His heartbeat is ringing in his ears. Everything is going to be fine. Right? Right. The worst thing Steve could do is… break up with him.

Oh, God, that is the worst case scenario. He really should’ve just kept his stupid mouth shut.

“Tony, are you freaking out? I feel like I can hear you freaking out from all the way over here.”

“No, I’m not, of course I’m not. Who says I’m freaking out? You have no proof. I am calm, I’m calm as a clam, is that the saying? Did I get it right? Or was it happy— Anyway, I am absolutely calm, I’m the calmest I could possibly be. Any calmer and I’d be asleep. I’m—”

“Tony. Breathe.”

Tony forces himself to drag in a slow breath as he grips the arm of his seat with his free hand, focusing on the soothing hum of the airplane’s engine.

“Look, Tony, I—”

“No, listen. I’m sorry I jumped the gun, I hope I haven’t weirded you out or anything. You really, really don’t have to say it back to me. I mean it.”

“Tony—”

“No, in fact— Please don’t say anything. It’s fine. Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?”

“But—”

“Drop it, Steve. Please?” Tony pleads. Clearly, his brain hadn’t been firing on all cylinders. That is the only reason that could explain his temporary lapse of judgment. “Look, I feel like talking about it more right now is going to send me spiraling into a panic attack.”

“...Okay. Fine.”

“Thank you. Uh, I’ll see you when I get home. If I get home. If the plane doesn’t crash. Haha.”

“Would you please stop saying that? It’s not funny.”

Tony latches onto the change in topic like a lifeline. “It is objectively true, you know. In order for me to be able to see you tomorrow, the plane has to land safely, and unfortunately, some things are just beyond my control. Like, who’s to say the plane won’t explode mid-air and—”

“The plane is going to land safely and you’re going to come back home to me in one piece. This is non-negotiable, Tony. You hear me?” Steve demands, his voice all hard authority and no-nonsense, like there will be Consequences should Tony fail to comply.

As if he could ensure Tony’s safety with the force of his willpower alone.

Come back home to me.

That sounds good. Really good. Tony closes his eyes and pictures Steve’s baby blues in his mind’s eye. Warmth flowers in his chest.

“I hear you.”

“Great.”

“Awesome. I, uh, I gotta go now.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

Tony hangs up and lets Paul know that he is done with his phone call. The jittery feeling left over from his call with Steve refuses to leave him, however, so he pulls up the drawing application on his phone and begins sketching something just to give his brain something else to fixate on.

He tends to lose track of time when he is hyperfocused on a project, so he isn’t exactly surprised that the next time he becomes aware of his surroundings, the plane is already well up in the air, his sketch of what looks like a flying coffee pot is almost finished, and Robbie is placing a plate of spaghetti carbonara on the table in front of him.

“Spaghetti carbonara. With extra cheese.”

Tony’s mouth waters as he eyes the mountain of grated Pecorino Romano sitting atop the pasta. He sighs dreamily and smiles up at Robbie.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Enjoy, Boss.” Robbie grins and slips back into the kitchen.

He only realizes just how truly famished he is after taking his first bite, and proceeds to finish the rest of his meal with gusto. Afterward, he spends the majority of the remaining flight time sleeping, the result of post-carbonara food coma and his sleep-deprivation finally catching up to him.

It’s well past two in the morning when Tony finally makes it to his floor in the Tower, which is why he is surprised to see Steve sitting on his couch, one of Tony’s fantasy novels open in hand.

“Steve, what are you doing here?”

Steve’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice. Tony frowns. “Actually, why are you awake at all?” He is usually an early sleeper, unless—

“Nightmare?” Tony gives him a sympathetic smile. It wouldn’t be the first time. In the early days of their friendship, Tony and Steve would sit together in the living room whenever they had trouble sleeping, talking to each other until the sun came up.

Steve shakes his head, closing the book with his eyes still trained on Tony. “No, I was just… waiting for you.” Tony blinks.

“It’s…” Tony glances at his watch. “Half past two. In the morning.”

“I know, I just…” Steve stands up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He ambles over before coming to a stop right in front of Tony. “I wanted to see you.”

Tony stares at him uncomprehendingly. “You’ll see me later anyway.”

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t want to go to sleep without seeing you first,” Steve says, low and earnest. His gaze wanders around Tony’s face, as if he were cataloguing each and every facial feature and trying to locate any changes he might’ve missed during his absence.

“Oh.”

Steve steps closer, arms snaking around Tony’s waist and pulling him close. His next words are whispered against Tony’s shoulder.

“I knew you’d make it home safely.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You were wrong.”

“I was… wrong.” Tony swallows. “Uh, turns out the bad feeling completely disappeared after I woke up from my nap on the plane, so I suspect that perhaps the bad feeling I got was due to my severe hunger and sleep deprivation. I mean, I’ve heard about hallucinations caused by hunger or exhaustion, but this was—”

Steve presses a soft kiss to the column of Tony’s neck, effectively cutting off Tony’s ramblings.

“Tony,” Steve whispers against his skin.

“Yeah?” Tony squeaks.

“Please don’t call me before a flight and say that you think the plane is going to crash, ever again.”

“Right. Noted. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Steve says, pulling away slightly and loosening his hold around Tony.

Tony allows himself to relax, letting out a quiet sigh. This thing with Steve is so new and delicate that every single physical contact still sends his heart fluttering, butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

Which makes, in retrospect, his abrupt love confession—as truthful as it was—that much more insane. God, Stark. Never do that again.

Except, it turns out that Steve only pulled away to slide his hands down the back of Tony’s thighs, wrapping his hands around them, and then lifting him up without warning.

Tony yelps, and in his alarm, promptly locks his ankles around Steve’s waist. When Steve begins moving, Tony quickly wraps his arms around Steve, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“Uh, Steve?”

“Hm?” Steve says, calm and nonchalant, as he begins walking away from the elevator.

“Um— Wait— My suitcase—”

“Leave it. It’ll still be there in the morning.”

Tony blinks, staring dumbfoundedly at his lonely suitcase, abandoned by the elevator. It becomes smaller and smaller with every step Steve takes.

“Where are we going?”

“Your bedroom.”

“Why are you carrying me there?”

“Because I want to.”

“You know it’ll be faster if you just let me walk, right?”

“Maybe. But you won’t be in my arms.”

“Um.”

“Bear with me, will you? I missed you.”

“I, uh, missed you too.”

Steve hums, satisfied. Tony lets himself settle more comfortably in Steve’s arms.

When Steve has successfully carried him to his bedroom, Tony fully expects Steve to deposit him on the bed.

That is not, in fact, what happens.

Instead, Steve turns around and begins walking backwards towards the bed before sitting down on it. Tony, still seated on his lap, swallows and pulls back slightly to look at Steve.

“Look, Steve, as much as I’ve missed you, I’m kind of tired right now. I mean, don’t get me wrong. This whole carrying thing? Great. Very romantic. Ten out of ten. But I’m just not in the mood for sex, you know? Like, I’m not even sure I would be able to get it up if—”

“We’re not going to have sex.”

Tony blinks.

“We’re not?”

“We’re not. I’m just here to tuck you in.”

“Oh.”

Steve reaches up and begins undoing his tie. After setting it aside on the bed, he begins to unbutton Tony’s shirt. He takes his time, one button at a time.

“So…” Steve begins with a deep breath as he unbuttons the final button. “Did you mean, uh, what you said to me? On the phone?”

Tony closes his eyes, feels his own cheeks heating up. “Steve—”

“I’m sorry, Tony, I know you told me to drop it. But— I feel like if you did mean what you said, I owe it to you to… set the records straight.” When Tony opens his eyes again, Steve is looking up at him, blue eyes solemn.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We have only been together for a week. Well, eight days. In fact, we’ve only been on one date. And it was interrupted. By giant lizards.” Steve chuckles incredulously.

Tony remembers that day very well. They were in the middle of dessert at Tony’s favorite Italian place when they received the call to assemble—something about giant lizards wreaking havoc in Central Park.

The lizards had green, gunky blood that got into the nooks and crannies of the suit. It had taken forever to clean.

“But Tony…” Steve gathers the material of Tony’s unbuttoned shirt in both of his fists, pulling him closer until their noses are only inches apart.

The second their eyes meet, Steve smiles the sweet, lopsided smile that never fails to make Tony’s stomach flip.

“I need you to know that… I didn’t have to date you to know that I loved you. I figured that a long time ago.”

Tony stills, breath frozen in his lungs.

“I guess, what I’m saying is… I love you too. I’ve loved you for a very long time, Tony. Even way before—” Steve breaks eye contact, looks down as he clears his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is tight. “Way before we got together. I’m talking… years before.”

Tony still finds it hard to breathe. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, the word more breath than sound. He meets Tony’s dazed gaze. “So you don’t have to worry about… jumping the gun. Not with me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“...Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels a lightness growing inside of him, spreading outwards to his extremities.

“Good.” Steve smiles, warm and impossibly fond.

“...Glad we’re on the same page.” Tony’s gaze drops down to Steve’s lips.

“We are.” Steve inches closer, nose brushing Tony’s. He then tilts his head ever so slightly and takes Tony’s lower lip between his, kissing him so tenderly Tony’s heart feels like it’s about to burst with it.

Steve’s warm hands slide up Tony’s naked back under his open shirt, sending goosebumps breaking across his skin. Tony buries his hands in Steve’s hair and relishes the feeling of the soft strands caught between his fingers. They stay caught up in each other for a few moments, capturing and releasing each other’s lips until the need for breath becomes too unbearable.

They break apart eventually, accompanied by soft chuckles. Steve smiles up at him, lips slick and cherry red, courtesy of Tony. He reaches up to caress Tony’s right eyebrow with the pad of his thumb, fleeting and affectionate.

“Get some rest, okay? You must be really tired. I should probably go to bed, too.”

Tony looks down at his lap, clearing his throat. “Uh, I know that we haven’t done this before, but…”

Steve waits patiently for Tony to gather his thoughts, hands stroking up and down Tony’s sides.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?” Tony finds the courage to meet Steve’s eyes, holding his breath.

Steve’s blue eyes are gazing at him intently, looking at him like he’s the only person in the world worth his sole, undivided attention.

Tony swallows. “No sex. Just to sleep. If you—”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels his own lips slowly curve up into a smile, wide and unbridled.

“Good.” Steve nods, lips twitching, his eyes never leaving Tony’s.

Tony grins, feeling near giddy with delight. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“We are, sweetheart.” Steve looks up at him, blue eyes fond and smile radiant. “We definitely are.”

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something

179 notes · View notes

juleswolverton-hyde · 3 years

Text

Not by the Moon | 08

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing, eating disorder (personal experience, don’t be a bloody twat), heavy(?) angst, Werewolf!Jaebeom trying to be a normal boyfriend

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV.

I am seeing a trend starting to develop where every chapter turns into a behemoth that makes me not want to edit it at all. Nevertheless, I pulled through on this one despite being in the middle of a 32-hour work week and being absolutely exhausted.

Summer holidays, you said? I only see extra shifts and little me-time nor writing time and inspiration. That said, though, be prepared for some heavy worldbuilding because the plot thickens.

Also, and this has been edited in the previous chapter, a new special someone makes his debut in this chapter. Is this also a hint about whose story is next?

Who knows?

I don’t know.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

“Jaebeom? Jay!” I nudge the big man’s shoulder to signal for him to step aside so I can turn the stove off before the burned pancake catches fire. “That’s the third one in a row.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly. “I- I have a... I can’t focus.”

“Is it because of this morning?” If so, then that makes two of us. However, I tried to forget as best I could by working with timed productivity sprints instead of writing the article on Bruges in one go. It worked fairly well until lunch time came around.

That’s when I, too, couldn’t escape the claw mark.

The image of it flashes before my eyes once more, joining my thoughts with his if his blank look is anything to go by.

How did it get there? What did you do?

“Yeah. Morning. I... I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, this should be a nice evening. A cozy night in. You deserve my attention, for me to,” his breath tapers as he finishes the sentence, “be here.”

The quiver in his lips makes the roof of my mouth dry up and my mind empty save for gut-stirring concern, unable to think of a proper response. Nevertheless, I look for words to say what seems best. Like I did this morning when I went to get his medication. “How about I take it from here and bake the pancakes? You already made the batter and I can’t let you do all the work.”

“I like cooking for you.”

“I know you do, but it’s fine. Really,” I gesture at the couch by the living room window, which provides a glimpse of the small balcony, “sit down. I’ll call you once dinner’s ready.”

“Y/N,” he reaches out for my hand yet only dares to hold my fingertips, “I’m sorry I can’t be more.”

The crack in his voice breaks my heart. But its the vulnerability written across his normally stoic face which tears me apart at the seams. Whatever he means, it’s nothing to do with this morning. Rather, it’s about him as a person, the wonderful man he is.

Throat blocked by something I can’t swallow, I scan his attitude for any hint about what he truly means. “What’re you on about?”

Let’s just forget about it for a little while and be a normal couple. I promise I won’t run away despite what happened.

Unfortunately, Jaebeom dismisses the question to make a point I wish he didn’t. “We both know what’s ahead. But, sometimes it’s as if you’re avoiding the inevitable.”

I let out a deep sigh, caught red-handed. “I’m not, because I know or, rather, can guess where this is going. I just don’t know how to respond at times. And I don’t want you to feel bad so I try to keep the mood high as best I can. To, well, keep us both happy.”

“Is your avoidance of food also part of that?” he asks, carefully formulating the question while keeping a close eye on any change in my demeanour.

“Yes.”

“I hate it when you don’t eat.”

“I know, but if you knew the reasons behind it, you’d understand why it’s difficult for me. Although, I want you to know that I’m trying to keep my promise to you and eat when you tell me to.” I cup his cheek, lovingly swiping my thumb to and fro over the tanned skin. “It’s really hard to escape your determination. You’re very insistent on things.”

“Too much?” Eyes dim and glistening with withheld tears, he nuzzles my palm.

“Sometimes.” I kiss the tip of his nose and smile, a sign of happiness that’s only half a lie. “It doesn’t make me love you any less. Now, let me be a proper girlfriend and cook for you.”

Regardless of the wonderful sight of Jaebeom wearing an apron and being absorbed in his element in the kitchen, it’s equally as wonderful to have something to eat tonight. Secretly, I would rather have made a healthier and less calorie-rich dish, but we both need a bit of a reprieve from last night. Thus, for the sake of us both, I’ve decided to let go of my rules for a little while.

To enjoy something sweet.

As wholesome as the sight of the wolf man seated on the couch, knees pulled up with round gold-rimmed glasses balancing on the bridge of his nose as he reads the novel he apparently borrowed from my bookshelves. I should write a little note on the title page and give it to him as a present so he’ll have one of my books like I have his.

They’ll be on his shelves for as long as we’re here.

Be there even after he’s gone.

Then they will return to me yet still be his.

He will still be with me.

The pages filled with his love.

It’s everything that will be left of him.

His legacy.

His remains.

The thought leaving me filled with bittersweet affection, I cut the fruit to put on top of the pancakes while gradually using up all the batter. Were it not for the move to the cottage at the end of the month, I could easily be content here if he’d ask me to move in. Wherever we are, evenings like these might become a common occurrence, a splendid reward at the end of a long day at the office.

They could turn any place into our home.

The long road of the lone wolf would finally come to an end.

Because as long as he’s there, I’m home.

“Mind your head.” Despite the warning, Jaebeom nevertheless puts a hand on my head while he opens the cupboard above to grab two plates.

“I was just about to say dinner’s ready.” I let out a breathless laugh, hardly hiding the sobs at the thought of one day having to live without his touch. “Talk about timing.”

For a second, a curious expression treks across his face. It passes by too fast to properly describe it, but it seemed to be triggered by the meaningless remark about his return to the kitchen.

When a dangerously short and sharp breath escapes me, he swallows it with a kiss. Perhaps it’s the sorrow of knowing a storm lies on the horizon that makes me delusional, but a soft whine rises in his throat each time he kisses a stray tear away as he peppers my face in small pecks.

Satisfied he has taken the sadness more or less away, the corners of his mouth curl into a lop-sided smile as if nothing happened. Notwithstanding, it isn’t hard to figure the blissful ignorance is merely feigned. “Right. Timing.”

Our gazes lock and neither of us says a word until he perks up and motions for me to step back. “Fork and knife.”

Discombobulated by the shared confusion, I indeed set a step backwards so he can open the drawer. In the meanwhile, as Jay sets the dinnerware down, I put the final pancake on the stack and set it down in the middle of the table.

Chest puffed out, I clap my hands. “Dig in.”

Like yesterday, Jaebeom insists on doing the dishes while I settle down for the night. However, whereas I gladly did before, I now do with an uneasy mind. Arms wrapped around my knees, my thoughts run down a familiar dark path.

I ate too much. Maybe I should go home and do a workout. Then again, I really don’t want to even though I have to.

“Y/N?” The faint though surprising mention of my name breaks the imaginary stones weighing down my shoulders. I snap my head to the side, almost headbutting the wolf man who has appeared at my side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Lips pulled into a wistful smile, I scratch him under the chin in hopes of distracting him to the degree he won’t be able to ask further questions. “I’m tired, that's all.”

Unfortunately, Jaebeom is like a guardian who somehow notices a lot despite his absent-minded demeanour. Henceforth, the topic is all but abandoned.

Without warning, and as effortless as if he were picking up a book, he lifts me up from the couch to hold me in his arms. Instinctively, I clutch his loose black shirt to have a grip of something in case I fall. It’s an ungrounded fear since his arms are sturdy, but it’s comforting nonetheless to have something to hold on to.

My haphazard action elicits a low chuckle that makes my heart skip a beat, although it almost thumps out of my chest again as he rests his forehead against mine. “Let’s go to bed.”

“It’s only eight o’clock,” I sputter, chest tight and no breath sufficient enough to lift the sensation. “Besides, I- I don’t have any fresh change of clothes or toiletries or a pyjama.”

Did he turn the central heating up?

“Doesn’t matter. Can borrow. You. No, that’s not right. You… you can. You can borrow clothes from me. Also, I think I have a spare toothbrush somewhere around here.”

“Jay,’’ As best I can, I try to keep my tone steady though the words come out too fast and uneven regardless, ‘’I think I should go home.”

If I don’t and I won’t get in some more exercise, I’ll gain weight and slowly go back to how I was.

And I’ll lose him.

Back to square one.

Loveless.

Despite the effort, I can’t prevent the crack in my voice as I weakly tug at his shirt. ‘’Let me go.’’

“No.’’ The gentle kindness has malformed into rough sternness, translated in a sound similar to a growl. ‘’You need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” I retort, more ferocious and sharper than intended though the equal harshness might help to drive the point home.

For a split second, he snarls and bares his teeth. Simultaneously, a flicker of a second personality passes across his mismatched eyes.

The calm ocean warps into a watery grave with high waves on a stormy night.

The hazelnut cracks to set that which it contains free.

His lashes abruptly flutter shut, as he lets out a pained gasp. Beneath my fingertips, his chest caves as if an imaginary fist has dealt him a blow in the guts.

And in mine as well.

Rippling flesh.

There’s… there’s no… Jay, what is happening to you?

I hold on tighter to the fabric, hyperventilating while trying to refrain from bursting out in tears.

There has to be something I can do! But what? What do I do? How can I make this stop?

How do I get you back?

Withal, shivering lips parted to beg for guidance, are interrupted by a shake of the head hanging low. Slowly, Jaebeom looks up, a light layer of sweat on his skin. Our gazes lock, but whereas the wolf man’s was filled with savage chaos, it’s now returned to the stern tranquility it held before the attack. Nonetheless, an uncomprehending whimper betrays the fact that whatever happened wasn’t experienced consciously.

The rage was beyond him.

Outside him.

Another’s.

Still breathless, he scoffs, the sound gruff and overtly disagreeing. “Let’s watch the moon and stars.”

There is no chance to ask any questions about the swift changes in demeanour since he promptly moves to the hallway and up the stairs towards his bedroom. The bedframe of the two-person bed also functions as a bookshelf which takes up the entire right wall, the shelves stacked with second-hand paperbacks in various conditions. An empty picture frame is placed on his side of the bed, a pair of glasses next to it.

Jaebeom puts me down on the navy wool blanket on the edge of the bed and leans in to steal a kiss, which is easy to do considering I’m too shaken to offer any protest. Nor do I feel the comfort of his lips. “Take your clothes off. I’ll go find you pyjamas.”

A tad reluctant, mind occupied by guilt and terror, I start to undress as he rummages through the wardrobe on the other end of the room.

Left only in my underwear, I sit down on the edge of the bed. Although he’s seen me naked once, I still wrap my arms around myself to hide my body. A shield to protect a fragile ego housed in equally as vulnerable body flesh.

Afraid of what might happen when those ripples grow out of control.

Terrified of who he will become.

Of who he is.

“Don’t.” Jaebeom turns around with a black hoodie and grey sweatpants in his hands, eyebrows drawn together. He closes the drawer, throws the clothes on the bed, kneels, and firmly yet gently grabs my wrists to break the walls I put up. And I let him. “Don’t hide from me.”

Not understanding where the shame originates from, he grows still as he scrutinizes my face for clues. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Instead of giving an answer, I change into the makeshift pyjamas. The hoodie is oversized yet comfortably baggy while the sweatpants hang disconcertingly low on my hips. Fortunately, any skin it reveals is covered up by the top.

Continuing to avoid his gaze without saying a word, I crawl under the sheets. Face turned to the window, I pull up the blanket he drapes over me and bury my nose in it.

A wild forest and cologne with a musty hint of pages.

It’s undeniably him.

I don’t know what else to do or say. So, I let the silence speak for itself.

A language he is fluent in too despite his oftentimes loud demeanour.

The mattress dips under his weight when he lies down and rearranges the sheets to cover us both. An arm wrapped around my waist and legs tangled, Jaebeom pulls me flush against him, his chest warm against my back.

A sob rises in my throat when I feel his lips place a kiss on my crown with a sigh of contentment.

I don’t deserve this.

Us.

Him.

The fear of losing him to whatever is happening inside.

Then again, Life isn’t fair. It deals everyone the same awful hand and leaves it up to the player to make the best of it.

I guess we’re both dealt a crappier hand than others. That, or we play them wrong.

Can we win at all?

“Talk to me.” As loving and happy as the casual intimacy of the embrace is, as forgetful it could make me if only I’d manage to fall asleep, Jaebeom’s oddly sweet cooing keeps me awake.

Staring at the moon.

A woman as fickle as me.

And infinitely more beautiful.

Funny how I, too, am jealous of a celestial body.

In love with the heavens.

He continues when he notices I won’t be the one to break the silence, his intonation laced by a whiny undertone like a dog wanting something yet being denied what it wants. “You know what I’m dealing with. But...” he digs his fingers deeper into my hips, the grip iron-like without being painful, “I hope this is okay to ask, but what is it with you and food?”

The encouraging squeeze in my side almost has me bursting out in tears again. There has to be a price to pay somewhere in the shadows, the overwhelming sensation of being genuinely loved and protected must turn out to be as two-sided as the silver goddess in the sky. After all, Life is bittersweet.

“It’s only fair I tell you.” Especially after how open he’s been. Besides, there’s no opportunity to avoid the topic since we’d arrive at it sooner or later. And he deserves to know. In fact, I don’t want him to forget my brokenness the moment I tell him about it.

We both want each other to remember our own missing pieces.

So I sigh, turn over and bald my hands into fists to rest against the warm skin of his bare chest. As I speak up, I try to keep my voice as steady as possible. “I used to be quite a fat kid, to the degree the GP advised my parents to put me on a diet. Queue high school and social pressure which led me to perhaps work out more than is healthy and left me bordering on the edge of anorexia. There are still foods I won’t eat and days I’ll worry about my calorie intake, especially on the days I don’t work out.”

I can’t help the mirthless chuckle which turns into a rueful smile. “It’s the good old cliché. Just another soul broken for the shallow enjoyment and acceptance of others.”

Lips pulled into a stern line, the wolf man remains silent. Notwithstanding, his eyes speak volumes when I dare to look up at him, the ocean and hazelwood alight with a watery sheen. Perhaps it’s the comfort of his nearness or the familiarity of those one of a kind eyes, but he inspires a confession which I never thought I’d make. “Nevertheless, I’m getting better and it’s partially thanks to you.”

Morgan spamming me with ‘Have you eaten?’ texts and Bam making sure I finish my plate whenever we go out for food either here or abroad help a lot too. Nonetheless, it’s mostly the bookish wolf who makes me want to try.

And be a little better than before.

“What do they feel like, those days?”

“The bad ones?” Jaebeom nods. “They’re ridden with guilt and self-loathing.”

He leans in, leaving only a few centimetres of distance between our faces. His breath is warm on my skin as he bumps his nose against mine. “You’re feeling that way now.”

“I am.”

“Don’t.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re still you. Beautiful as always. And I’ll love you regardless of how you look. I like your mind, which is as weird as mine. The way you hold my hand, as if you’re afraid I’ll walk away. How you unconsciously squeeze it when you need my protection more. How you feel in my arms, soft and warm as a bunny.” He hooks his finger under my chin and tilts it upward to run his tongue over my lips and nose. “Love you. A lot.”

“I love you too.” I turn my head to nuzzle his palm, my face perfectly fitting into it.

Please, no ripples. Let us have this moment. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. Let me have him, just him as he is. At least tonight.

The secure affection of the touch transforms into something else when he glides the back of his hand over my cheek and folds his fingers over my throat. Testing the waters, eyes boring into mine to stop at the slightest sign of discomfort, he slowly closes off my access to air.

It’s funny how the body and mind react to certain situations. Whereas I normally would flinch and run in the direction of safety, there is no urge to run. In fact, the tingling in my chest travels down to rekindle a familiar heat between my thighs while my adrenaline-infused system aches for the wolfish lover. Henceforth, instead of jumping up from the bed, I spread my legs so Jaebeom can comfortably nestle between them.

“Let me prove it. Let me mate you.” The calloused fingertip journeying across the collarbone to the crook of the neck sends a pleasant shiver down the spine. Another electric shock follows at the coarse prickly sensation of his moustache rubbing against my skin as his soft lips kisses and nips at it. “It will only sting a bit, I promise. Please, the mark will look pretty.”

“No biting, Jay.” Reminded of our agreement this morning and the movement beneath his skin when his emotions seem to get the better of him, I pull him against my chest. Before he can protest I scratch his jaw exactly in the way he likes it, thus subduing his great ability to argue. “Not today.”

“It’s not... hm, k- keep go- What do- Bit higher. There. Like, hm, mhm, there. But... what normal-’’ Arms wrapped around my waist again and letting out a content hum, dark lashes flutter shut. For a moment, it seems he’s fallen asleep. However, his drowsy murmurs, while growing incomprehensible, still haven’t finished. “It’s not what couples do.”

“You’re learning,” I giggle, amused by the remark which sounds like a student recalling a piece of knowledge during a test and repeating it for himself.

Without understanding the knowledge completely. “What do they do?”

Staring at the ceiling, I run my fingers through his long dark manes as I try to come up with ideas about what we can do next. “Well, you’ve already given me your clothes. We could try jewelry next, maybe a promise ring. It’s an old-fashioned idea, but people who are promised to each other wear matching rings.

‘’What mean? Promised?’’

I say nothing of the faulty grammar of his question. After all, speaking becomes harder once exhaustion overtakes the body and mind. I have yet to find a sleeper being able to form comprehensible sentences. ‘’They’re sort of similar to engagement rings, but without the immediate implication of getting married soon.”

“Let’s get en- enga- enge-’’ Jaebeom lets out a groan, frustrated by his lack of speech. Nevertheless, it doesn’t perturb him enough to completely give up on the effort to properly pronounce the word he’s struggling with. “En. Gage. Ment. Engagement rings instead.”

I let out a breathless chuckle, amused both by his determination and the absurd proposal. “It’s definitely too early for that.”

“It’s not!” He barks, shooting up with a pinched expression on his face.

Scratching him like before, I manage to calm him down enough to make him lie down on my chest again. Nonetheless, his discontent shines through in the gruff scoff he lets out. “It is.”

“What if...” Prompted by the idea in his mind, Jay scrambles upright to face me once more. Lips parted, the feral sharpness in his mismatched eyes is replaced by a twinkle of barely contained excitement. However, the enthusiasm dims with a shake of the head and a low self-deprecating chuckle that ignites my curiosity. At the same time, it also tugs at the strings of my heart. “No, it’s wrong of me to ask.”

“What is?”

What were you about to say? Don’t keep it to yourself. Tell me!

“Never mind.” He lies down again, nuzzling my breasts as he snuggles up into me.

Then, he slips his hand under mine to lift and compare it to his. “Cute paw.”

Fine. Keep your secrets, you big burly bastard.

“Go to sleep.” I push him off of me, earning myself a disappointed noise which resembles a yelp. “On the other side of the bed, please and thank you.”

In the days that follow, the movement like water set astir under his skin continues to haunt my mind. In fact, it does to the extent that even the keys beneath my fingers seem to flow rather than be pushed down, causing me to flinch for the third time in a row.

For the past hour I’ve been trying to type out the notes on an interview with a chocolatier in Bruges and compose them into a coherent article. An otherwise simple task my mind won’t allow me to complete despite the attempts to remember the good moments we had recently. The video calls right before bed, the cuddle session a few days ago when we gazed at the moon, his enthusiastic texts about and photos of new recipes Jaebeom tried. None of it prevents the likely imagined terrible from destroying our happiness.

I’m going insane. He’s a normal person. Somewhat. I was jet-lagged and therefore not thinking clearly.

That’s why I thought I felt his skin move. I was delusional.

Drunk on him.

A buzz pulls me out of my reverie, the screen of my phone lighting up with a message.

Morgan: Starving! Found a new café thanks to a friend.

Y/N: Let me guess. I have no choice but to come along.

Morgan: There wasn’t a choice to begin with :)

Y/N: Of course not. What am I talking about, eh? See you in five.

Chuckling at the woman’s classic brashness, I shake my head, pack my belongings and head to the elevators.

Outside, regardless of the November chill, it’s pleasant. The sun shines brightly and the wind blows the little bundles of fallen leaves at the roots of the birch trees lining the street into motion, scattering them over the neatly swept pavement.

Winter is around the corner. God, I hate the cold. Hopefully, there won’t be snow any time soon.

I sit down on the bench under one of the birch trees, its branches already bare.

Autumn is truly ending now. Shame. I haven’t even had a pumpkin spice latte and cinnamon roll yet. Maybe I should ask Jay out and find a nice coffee shop where we can get them. After all, if he’s there, we can share the pastry. He’ll be happy and I won’t have to eat the whole thing. A win-win situation.

Enjoying watching the people pass by, each stranger essentially a book with a unique story that is yet not entirely different from someone else’s. Withal, the world feels colder without him, the missing part embodied in the unoccupied spot next to mine.

A delighted sigh on the right makes me snap my head around, alarmed at the notion someone has appeared out of the blue on the empty seat.

A woman clad in a white suit and matching fur-lined coat with pale skin and brown hair glowing copper in direct light stares contentedly up at the clouds. She’s in her very early twenties, although the freckles dusting her cheekbones and rosy cheeks might simply make her look younger than she is.

For a moment, taken aback and speechless, I cannot help but blatantly gape at the otherworldly stranger.

Wow, she’s like a goddess.

A stone sinks to the bottom of my stomach as a dark thought intrudes my mind. My throat dried up, I twist my wrists, the muscles stiff beneath my fingers.

Would Jaebeom like her? If he saw her on the street, would he... would he stop and stare? Prefer her over me or even try and give it a shot by introducing himself?

“It’s a bit chillier than I’d like, but at least it’s better than rain or snow.” The woman turns to face me, her features soft. “I hope spring will come again soon, though.”

I don’t get the chance to respond because a familiar voice calls out. Not that I would be able to form a proper reply otherwise. “You’re here already?”

“I happened to be nearby,” the stranger turns away to answer as Morgan comes to a halt in front of us, a puzzled expression on her face.

“I texted you fifteen minutes ago and you said you had to clean up. I thought you’d join us later.”

“The birth and after birth went faster than I thought so here I am.”

“I’m sorry, but what is going on?” More than a little lost, I look from one to the other in hopes of being given an explanation. “I didn’t know we’d head out with the three of us.”

“Right, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Brigid.” The dark-haired woman holds out her pale hand in greeting. “I work at the hospital as an obstetrician.”

“I’m Y/N,’’ I reply, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Lass,” wonder turned to a darker version of itself yet not saying anything, Morgan shifts her attention to me, “you look famished. Come on, let’s go.”

Offering a few muttered words of agreement, I get up and sheepishly tag along with the other women. As we walk out the street and round a corner, following the signs leading to the artist district nearby the university, I’m occasionally tempted to join the conversation. However, as soon as a short silence falls, I don’t chip in, unsure how to contribute to the small talk they seem to deliberately keep up in order to avoid a topic neither is keen to discuss. Thus I walk in urban loneliness, my train of thought displaced on my face as I let the ghosts of Jaebeom’s skin freely haunt my mind.

Right before the descent into the darkness of the rabbit hole, strong long fingers wrap around my wrist and hold it in an iron grip. The slightly painful squeeze interrupts my reverie.

Jaebeom?

I snap my head to the side to find Morgan standing there, leaning in a bit and her voice low. “We’re here.”

I don’t know how I’ve managed to ignore the bustle of students looking for a free spot on one of the terraces and loud conversations accompanied by the rustle of the paper bags hailing from the shops owned by self-employed artists. It’s also miraculous that I haven’t bumped into anyone by accident.

“Oh,” is all I say, looking at the café we’ve stopped in front of.

Wolf’s is spelled out in a modern font on the sign outside and above the door. A big window provides visitors with a view of the plaza. The interior is simple yet cosy, the white furniture warmed up by oak accents and the bare walls decorated with various art pieces, centered around wolves and various flowers. By the looks of it, they were all made by a single artist who likes to experiment with style every now and then. A few plants are dotted around the place as well to add a hint of free nature to the underlying strangely forest-like aesthetic.

A tall broad-shouldered man with short curly chocolate brown hair partially covering up the scar running over his left eye, strong dark eyebrows and a big koala-like nose stands behind the counter. Both of his arms and hands are decorated with various intricately designed tattoos. Whereas Jay is muscled yet lean, the tanned barista looks like a man who knows how to fight yet is a warrior in a society without combat.

As soon as we walk in, his lifts his head and turns to us. Playful lights illuminate the milky white of his left and raven dark of his right eye. A meadow of snow, its glimmer reflecting off of the smooth feathers of a wise bird. “Hi, welcome. Brigid, long time no see.”

Nobody seems to notice it, but his female colleague, a short woman with long flowy caramel brown hair tied into a ponytail who has her back turned to us and is busy extracting a shot, cringes at the merry mention of the woman’s name. Slowly, she steals a glance at us, hazel eyes sharpening when they fall on the woman in white. Nevertheless, she remains silent and quickly returns her attention to preparing someone’s coffee.

Looks like I’m not the only one envying her.

It is wrong to hate a woman for her beauty. Nonetheless, although it’s shameful, part of me refuses to associate with Morgan’s acquaintance out of a toxic mixture of spite and jealousy.

Such is the female nightmare.

“So this is what you’ve been up to,” Brigid muses, nodding appreciatively while inspecting the coffee shop. “You’ve got a nice thing going on here, Rome.”

“Please don’t call me that anymore. It’s Christian now. Chris or Ian for short.’’ Muscled arms crossed, he grimaces and shakes his head while looking down. Notwithstanding, the stern attitude melts into casual friendliness as a bright smile forms on his lips. ‘’But I do, don’t I? However, it’s not just me running the place. I’ve had some help.”

He turns around and motions for his colleague to come over. For a second she doesn’t move, darting glances to each of us like an alarmed cat checking for danger. Notwithstanding, though clearly tense, she warily approaches and halts at the man’s side.

Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when Christian places a hand on her shoulder. “In fact, Gráinne here still helps me out every day. She’s basically the second owner.”

“I- I’m not,” she sputters in a soft Ulster accent, fumbling with her fingers and her cheeks flushed, “I just work here some days.”

“You’re a bit more than a colleague,” her co-worker remarks, shoulders lowered and his tone holding more affection than would be the case when talking to a friend. A warm glow seems to form around him, ignited by the fondness he harbours for her.

Funny, Jaebeom wears that same expression when he’s with me.

“I’m not.” Gráinne stiffens, each word dripping with venom as she steps away, grabs a serving tray and puts the order she was preparing before being called over on it. “Get back to work.”

Lips parted, Ian watches her as she moves past us as fast and agile like a hunting cat without any further acknowledgement of our presence. I hadn’t noticed before, but beneath her apron, she is dressed in clothes reminiscent of the Victorian era. “I know she can be harsh and isn’t easy to get along with, but I’ve never seen her act like this.”

“Och, let it pass. She has every right to be pissed with you since you put her on the spot like that,” Morgan jokes though nobody goes along with it.

She likes him yet doesn’t see it’s mutual. Should I say something? Then again, this is their business, not mine. Furthermore, why would they believe me, a stranger?

So I remain silent.

And leave this to blossom however it is meant to in Fate’s hands.

The icy glare Gráinne gives Brigid behind her back sends a chill down my spine. Evidently, she is a woman not cross paths with once angered. Withal, as the fair beauty looks over her shoulder, the other woman restores her professional composure.

“You okay?” Christian asks as he watches her retreat into the kitchen, done serving for now.

“I’m fine,” she says thickly, the next breath hitching in her throat. Her focus shifts to the moon-shaped amethyst pendant around his neck. The ghost of a rueful smile forms on her lips, but it fades as fast as it appeared. “It’s not like I’m having a vision or something. Help them.”

She waves her hand dismissively when he doesn’t move, lips parted to say something yet at a loss for words. Notwithstanding, although I can’t see his expression clearly, it’s evident her feigned nonchalance is hurting him. “Go on.”

He clears his throat and forces himself into a rigid posture, frowning as he shifts his attention back to us. Finger hovering over the tablet functioning as a till, he stares at the display with an empty and distant gaze, which is as dull as the tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. “What can I get you?”

We place our order and settle down at the table by the window, neither of us offering a word of solace or dedicated to his colleague’s behaviour.

After a while, Christian comes up to us to serve the food and beverages. As he puts the plates with our sandwiches down, he and Brigid exchange looks like siblings telepathically conversing. Whatever it is they mentally discussed, it only leaves the barista a slight bit less worried though the grave expression plaguing him remains as he returns to the counter.

An expression which must be similar to mine since it prompts Morgan to speak up regardless of having her teeth sunk into sourdough bread, looking equally as somber. “What’s on your mind, lass?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head and stir my cappuccino with the vintage silver spoon next to the porcelain cup, smiling at my own silly assumptions of what happened now four days ago. “Everything’s fine.”

“Except it’s not.” The raven-haired woman cocks an eyebrow, far from willing to dismiss my worries. “Now tell me. Or, well, us.”

“It’s something to do with your lover, isn’t it?” Brigid remarks, head tilted to the side as she assesses me while sipping at her Irish Breakfast Tea. Her features soften when she notices she has hit a sensitive snare, evidently meaning no harm.

I pull back in my seat as I take a sip of my coffee, flustered and cursing myself for being an open book. There is no way out of this conversation since the current company is like-minded in their refusal to simply let the topic pass before it has been discussed.

I swallow, put the cup on the dish again and clear my throat. Fumbling with the spoon and eyes cast on the cappuccino’s silky milk foam, I tell them of what I think happened. The story sounds strange to my own ears, like a terrible fairy tale told by a chaotic storyteller who can’t tell it in a manner that makes sense regardless of how he manipulates the plot.

Afraid of their reaction, unable to fathom the slightest bit of sympathy and empathy, I look from one to the other. Fortunately, my silence can be excused by drinking the remainder of the coffee although it’s futile since the thirst has nothing to do with bodily needs.

“Sounds familiar.” The woman in white scrunches her nose in disgust as she glares at Morgan.

“He was different,” Morgan sneers through gritted teeth, jaw clenched.

“In essence, he was similar to her lover.’’ Brigid points at me though she remains focused on my best friend, her voice dripping with venom. ‘’Or should I say, is similar?”

“Since when does it matter what he is?” Thin lips painted plum purple curl into a mirthless smile, onyx locks shaking in discontent. “How hypocritical you’ve become. Forgetful of the past.”

“A past worth forgetting. It’s never too late to change your political opinions, Morgan.”

Great, now I’m the one to open Pandora’s box. I should have kept my mouth shut, changed the topic.

Desperate for help yet knowing he cannot do anything, I look for Christian among the other customers. Expression stern and standing as rigid as a statue, he watches our table from behind the counter. It appears he, too, feels the sense of danger increasing as the conversation carries on. Notwithstanding, as becomes clear from the apologetic shake of the head when our eyes meet, he also knows his hands are tied at the moment.

We are on the same boat, waiting to see how the situation will develop.

Playthings of Chance and Fate.

“We’re not here to talk politics,’’ the woman in question answers, covering her mouth with her hands while chewing on a bite of goat cheese and pomegranate seeds, ‘’but to have lunch like civilized and amiable women. To help our friend.”

“You’re right,” Brigid concludes. Nonchalantly, she pierces a piece of egg in her salmon salad and puts its on the bread provided with it, a bread called St Michael’s Bannock according to the menu. Then, she points her fork at me. “But the best thing you can do is leave him while you still can.”

“L- Leave?” Utterly confused, I look at the woman calmly eating her lunch. “Why would I do that?”

Who is she? What’s more, who is she to tell me to leave Jaebeom after what I told her? He needs help and support, regardless of what may or may not be there beneath his skin.

Unless she is on to something I am not and judging by the current circumstances, I won’t get an answer even if I dare to ask. Henceforth, if only not to snap, I clear my throat and swallow the vile words dancing on the tip of my tongue.

“Morgan can tell you why. All I can say is that it’s better to avoid men like your lover in the first place.” She coughs and takes a sip of tea to wash down the salad leaf stuck in her throat while the woman with hair as black as night chuckles darkly. Luckily, it is only loud enough for me to hear and Brigid is too busy preventing herself from choking.

“Sétan-, I- I mean Seán was the one to leave me, not the other way around. And we mutually agreed to part ways in favour of our own well-being.”

“Sure you did. Totally didn’t resort to throwing plates and other pieces of furniture because he rejected you.”

Morgan growls something under her breath, glaring at the woman seated next to me. However, Brigid doesn’t seem to notice the reaction she has provoked or is indifferent to it. “Or washed clothes at the ford where he so ‘happened’ to pass by. Funny how he died soon after.”

Ford? There are quite a few in Ireland, so where and most importantly, when was this? Then again, what are these two on about? Washing clothes in a ford, people dying, politics, lovers to leave. They’re like arguing voices from ancient times.

Moreover, there is the question of Seán’s life. Is he alive or dead? One moment she speaks of him as if he’s still here, but then why would Brigid remark he’s dead?

“You shut your whoremouth, traitor!” With a loud bang, Morgan slams her fists on the table. She stands up with an expression that makes me cower in fear despite not being the target of her wrath.

Behind the counter, Christian slowly comes into motion, carefully moving with the likely intent to inconspicuously circle our table and jump in if necessary. He flinches as Gráinne places a hand on his arm, holding him hard enough for her knuckles to turn white when he tries to escape from her grip in order to prevent the worst from happening. Notwithstanding, whatever the plan was, it goes to waste since he decides to listen to what his colleague tells him. Sighing deeply, he stands down although he continues to observe us.

Gráinne follows his gaze, which seems to be directed at the brown-haired woman in white, her personal target of envy. Her wolfishly fierce expression falters, growing as bleak as the ash of a great bonfire.

This time he doesn’t see how she comes apart at the seams.

Brigid calmly finishes her tea, daps her mouth on the napkin and stands up too. “Get over your crush. There’s no future for you with him. As for you, Y/N,” eyes oddly alight with motherly affection, she turns her attention to me, “and as a piece of advice from a friend, end this relationship while you still can. There’s only heartbreak ahead.”

“Thank you, but,” a wistful smile forms on my lips regardless of the urge to give into the savage nagging inside, “I can’t leave him because I made a promise to stay.”

“I see. Perhaps you’ll prove me wrong and the flowers will bloom in spring.”

And with those final cryptic words, she leaves the café after waving at the tattooed barista.

Or so Brigid intends, but her way is cut off by his colleague.

While clumsily taking off her apron she storms outside, clenching it hard and shivering as if she’s on the brink of tears.

“Gráinne? Gráinne!” Christian runs after his colleague, pale and eyes wide with worry as he comes to a halt in the doorway. “Where are you going? Gráinne!”

Brigid places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a consoling squeeze. After giving him an encouraging slap on the back she sets off, leaving the man standing there like a defeated soldier.

“Poor lass,” Morgan whispers as she watches the female barista pass the window. Something in her tone hints at a level of familiarity between the two.

“You know her?” I ask, frowning.

“I don’t think she remembers me.” She glances at Chris, who has retreated behind the counter. He has his head bowed, smooth black locks hiding his face from the customers. Trembling fingers entwined to conceal his distress as best as possible, he resembles a man of religion fervently praying for forgiveness. “And neither does he. I saw him and his close friend, Finn, once in the woods. No, it was his brother, Jor… was it? When he came to the island. Was that… who was that?’’

A mist clouds her ocean blue eyes, lost in thoughts far removed from this world and time. ‘’He was there. As for Gráinne, we met… somewhere. There was smoke, a burning body. It was- It was at… where? Fuck, I can’t recall. I think it was at his fu-’’ she abruptly cuts herself short to correct herself with a strange undertone in her voice, “not long after I... saw them.”

‘’Morgan, are you alright? You’re looking awfully pale.’’

Instead of breaking free from the spell that has taken hold of her, the reverie only seems to deepen. Rocking side to side, she clutches her arms to her chest. Her skin, although naturally pale, grows sickly like a walking corpse.

‘’I- I’m supposed to remember. I’m one of the few that do. No, he and I are the only ones left that do. I can’t forget. If I do, everyone will. I can’t… I can’t!’’

‘’Morgan!’’ I stand up from my seat to rush to her side. Rubbing her arms, I try with all my might to bring her back to reality from the depths of deliria. ‘’It’s all right, Morgan, nobody is going to forget. Please listen to me and follow my voice, use it as a guide back to me from wherever it is you are. Please, come back to me.’’

‘’May I?’’ Christian has appeared with a glass of water, which he sets on the table before crouching down at the woman’s side as well.

Gently he grabs one of her hands and holds it, talking in a voice that is surprisingly steady and soothing in spite of what happened mere moments ago. It’s rougher and more gruff, making it hard to distinguish one word from another if you are not well-acquainted with the speaker.

In fact, it belongs to a completely different person. ‘’Morgan, as long as there are people who remember, there is nothing to fear. The past has taught us that what might seem like the end isn’t necessarily truly the end. We are still here. We remember because you do and you remember because we do. You’re safe and sound. Instead, return and help me make her remember.’’

‘’Why, of everyone, did you have to fall for her?’’ Gaze blinded by her mind, Morgan reaches out to tenderly run her fingers through the barista’s hair. ‘’What makes her special?’’

‘’She understands.’’ A similar fog veils the misty white and dark eyes, Chris or, rather, the stranger pulled into the same realm of consciousness as my friend. ‘’She broke the chains that bound me and doesn’t allow me to slip into the shadows of what I once was.’’

‘’You’re all the same, aren’t you?’’

‘’It’s rare to find understanding and acceptance in a world naturally turned against you. So, please help me. Help me find her.’’ His voice breaks, the begging words coming out high-pitched like a whining wolf. ‘’Help me find my reason to stay in this world and not forget nor be forgotten.’’

The veil lifts, the spell broken with the whimpered plea.

Christian falls back, but manages to catch himself before his head hits the tiles. Refusing every helping hand from the customers hurrying over, he scrambles to his feet. Fortunately, he accepts the chair I offer him when his dangerous swaying almost causes him to hit his head against the wall.

‘’Are you okay?’’

‘’Yeah, I’m only dizzy.’’ The hiss he lets out flows over into a sound akin to a growl. ‘’And a splitting headache.’’

Morgan has a better return to reality, completely fine aside from a dazed mind. ‘’What happened?’’

‘’You tell me.’’ I search her face for clues, a sliver of the knowledge she is lying. However, I find none.

She is telling the truth.

‘’I… I don’t know. It’s the first time.’’ She clears her throat, brow furrowed. As if having heard a noise, she snaps her head to the side. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Drink your tea, eat a sandwich and go home early from work.”

She hands the glass of water to Christian. ‘’And you, you drink this and stay seated for at least five more minutes until the dizziness has faded. Are you nauseous?’’

‘’No. Although,’’ he dry heaves, ‘’never mind.’’

‘’Make it ten. You look as pale as a banshee.’’

‘’Speak for yourself.’’

‘’You’d make a pretty one, though,’’ Morgan muses when she returns her attention to me. ‘’Beauty makes suffering leading to death easier.’’

Apparently, her return to reality has left her as mad as a hatter so perhaps it wasn’t as good as I initially thought.

“Why on earth would you say that? Besides, what kind of comparison is that, us and a banshee?”

“One based on truth. Now,” she shoves the remainder of her goat cheese and pomegranate sandwich to me, “eat, rest up and get cracking again. We’ll be in touch and visit the new café I found yesterday later, alright?”

“Hey, not so fast. Where are you headed off to?’’

She can’t be serious. There is no way she is unaffected by what happened.

“Attagirl,’’ Morgan says as if I promised to heed her words, ignoring what I actually said. ‘’By the way, ignore what Brigid said and stay with your man. It’s plain to see how he makes you feel.”

“It is?”

“You’re glowing and you come alive when you speak of him. It reminds me of how I was with Seán.” She starts as if awakened from a dream, but tries to hide her awkwardness behind a sheepish smile. “Well, then, take care.”

“You too.’’ The two simple words, otherwise casual, are now carefully chosen in order to not to trigger another ‘attack’.

My gut tight and skin prickling thanks to her inhuman behaviour, I watch the raven-haired woman leave. I hold my wrist, my pulse too rapid to be healthy beneath my thumb.

Like I am at death’s door.

The next morning, there’s an article in the newspaper. A man’s been found dead at the edge of the bogs near town. The cause of his demise is unknown, but there are witness accounts who said they heard a high screech late the night before. In the days that follow, their names show up one by one in funerary advertisements.

A week later, none of the witnesses are alive. Moreover, nobody has heard the screeching since, though everyone remembers the description of the sound.

It was like the howl of a banshee.

#JB #Jaebeom #Im Jaebeom #GOT7 #GOT7 smut #Jaebeom fanfiction #GOT7 Werewolf AU #GOT7 x Reader #Jaebeom x Reader #Jaebeom smut #Werewolf!Jaebeom #Werewolf AU #Werewolf!JB #Not by the Moon

93 notes · View notes

writingforyourpleasure · 3 years

Text

IHTCW part II

Genre: NonIdol!AU, SummerJob!AU

Part II of

Pairing: OT7 x Reader - focus Yoongi x reader- Namjoon x reader

Summary: You do car wash as a summer job each year. But this year , 7 new employees are added to the mix.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: angst,fluff,smut

______

So apparently taehyung idea worked … which to say the least surprised you a lot.

Everyday since the photoshoot , with the boys , which was two weeks ago now. For which you took the pictures not wanting to be sexualized by some creeps, a ton of groups of girls were coming in and out at every hours of the day , sometimes even going as far as several times a day , apparently not only men could be sexualizing the other gender and be a creep about it. But the boys knew from the start that they’ll be sexualized and were strangely okay with it.

Even you had a hard time not finding them extra hot while doing the photoshoot , you were lucky they staid clothed because you would have been a babbling mess if they did.

Ever since that day you worked much longer than before at the gaz-station being overcome with those new clients. Which meant you were less at home than normal.

Which created a lot of disputes between you and your romantic partner. Tonight had been the last drop for you. They insulted you , so you took the first bag you saw and got some clothes you found not bothering to check what it was and to show it down your bag to take of on your bicycle, getting as far away as possible from this place , you used to call home.

But you really had nowhere to go to be honest. Like most of your friends were living on campus or gone back home to see their relatives for the summer break.

So you drove where you mind took you and it was at Namjoon’s house strangely. You only been there once to help him and the rest of the guys move into this new loft they shared, in was pretty big for students but you figured they had rich families or at least one of them to help them out.

You knocked on the windowed door of the loft trying to make yourself heard but still not wanting to disturb anyone’s sleep surely one of them would still be up right ?

Blue hair came into view and something overtook you , you didn’t cry no. You didn’t need to.

You tears had dry out years ago , right now you wanted to bask into a moment of serenity with whoever could hold you and it was a good thing Namjoon was the one holding you his presence making the silence around you so comfortable and easy to bask into.

You needed this. After what felt several minutes you turned to glance up at him a question on your lips but too tired to ask hoping he would come up with the sentence by himself, he did.

“Do you got a bag to sleep-over ?”

Still being your silent self , too tired of the screams, words and others you made a light sign at your backpack on your bicycle, he understood and leaved the comfort and softness of the hug to go get it for you.

He showed you the way into the house passing by a living room in which Jungkook was sleeping uncomfortably on the couch while facing a lightly blue screens playing some credits of a film .

Namjoon made a shush movement to you, before showing you his bedroom door’s , you remembered from last time.

You entered and the place seemed very calm and like a resting place for your fuzzy mind.

You went to thank Namjoon but saw him going out of his bedroom.

“Were are you going?” You said with a small voice , like a kid getting scared of the monster under their bed.

“I leave you my bed and I’ll took the couch not to disturb you , you look like you could use some sleep.”

“Ple-please don’t … don’t leave me ?” You asked making silent doe eyes over him .

His breath was shortly cut before exhaling and giving in your request . He spread out his magnificent body over the bed and you softly made a sign to ask permission for a cuddle .

He showed you into his chest and for once since a long time your night wasn’t visited by screams and insults. But rather a deep voice and pretty laugh and some blue smoke over it.

The next morning you wake up early , way too early. The harsh 6 am from Namjoon’s alarm clock was staring smugly at you , you tried you really did but no matter what you couldn’t seem to go back to bed . So you leaved the bed and warm embrace of Joon’s arm around you to put a pillow in his arms instead of your frame. With what you hoped was the smallest sounds you tip-toed to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water unfortunately for a dark figure was waiting for you causing a high pitch from your lungs joined by the cold stare of the shadow. You heart start to come back to life once you saw that in front of you for no other than Yoongi, looking at you like you grew to heads.

“Sorry didn’t mean to scare you, I mean it’s not like I’m the one standing in your kitchen at 6 am unannounced .”

“Christ Yoongi, you have no idea how much you scared me .”

“Well didn’t think it’ll be that soon I’ll hear you scream because of me.”

You rolled your eyes trying not to look like a deer caught in headlights , it wasn’t really your taste of humor but you knew he just tried to lighten up the mood.

“Subtle as ever , I see.”

“I prefer to be cash with someone who I feel attracted to.”

What? He had to be kidding, or were you dreaming and in reality still in Joon’s arms?

“I fear I did not quite get that.” You swallowed a big breath trying to shake your frozen state away.

“Too bad I hate repeating myself” He winked at you . You stood still blushing and you were thanking the lack of light in that moment, not wanting to be teased further by him.

“So what’s up? Why are you doing in my kitchen at 6 am ? Were you missing me that much?”

It kinda shocked you how this very calm man was being so straightforward something you never thought him to be .

But soon enough a sour expression painted your face remembering why you were here in the first place.

Even though the lack of lights Yoongi saw that.

“Do you want me to help out?”

“There’s nothing to be done , I’m afraid.”

You sighs as you made your way to the sink to serve yourself a glass of water.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi was now right in front of you caging him between his two arms on each sides of your hips while they were resting against the sink.

“I-I don’t-“

“I really want to help you out , I’ll be happy to.” He whispered getting closer to you.

“I don’t get it, what-“

“Do you want me to kiss you?” His lips were a few inches away from yours and you could feel the light scent of his morning shave hitting your nostrils as you took a deep breath in.

“Do you want to kiss me?” You asked not leaving his lips from your glance as he licked them purposefully .

“I was thinking I made that point pretty clear.” At that you lashed out your anger on his lips not, giving him a minute to catch on before colliding your lips on his.

There was something pretty aggressive from you directed towards him, well not him really more to the world and how unfair this all was but you had the sensation that he could get it, that he was somewhat as torn up inside as you were . He responded to the kiss pretty fast . But to your shock his kiss wasn’t rushed at all on the contrary it was barely a peck before he moved away from your lips.

“No matter what brought you here, selfishly I’m happy it happened.” And before you knew it his lips find yours again, just caressing yours , being awfully slow, where yours were being more insistent and wanting to speed up. But the clashing of the both were mixing quite well to your delight.

They was something in the way he wanted to calm you down that was very much needed, as if he was saying sorry to your scars and broken heart, as if he could convince your heart to throb once more for someone new , where you were screaming for violence , he was moving in your wounds trying to stitch them up. He was being so calm and overall confident in the good care he was putting you through that might had thought he could be the cure to it all if you hadn’t been so lied to and putting through toxic relationships for so many years before meeting them.

His long skinny fingers found the hem of your shirt delicately brushing it up over your head , standing aside for a few seconds taking in your braless state in admiration and lust .

He licked his lips once again , his expression looking as blank as ever.

He oh so calmy took off Namjoon’s sweatpants falling on his knees, facing your crotch.

Needless to say you were intimidated to found yourself naked in front of the clothed man.

You yelped when he took a lick at your core and an overdramatic sigh at your taste. You were feeling all the blood leave to your head in that instant, your eyes struggling to stay open when is cold breath fanned over your glistening folds of his saliva.

In over just a minute he was making out loudly with your pussy making it clenched at all the pervert sounds the two combined were making.

The obscene sounds of your whimpers and the sounds of Yoongi’s flat tongue against your core were echoing through the walls of the kitchen, and even if your mind was being transported to another place as the fearless moves Yoongi’s tongue was making you try to resist your instincts to close your legs opting against it , and opening them wider for Yoongi hands to roam against.

This truly was the best cunni you ever had. For once your partner wasn’t afraid to use all of the strength he had to satisfy you and without much help you were cumming against his tongue, he hold you in place as your hips buckled against his face.

That’s when the light of the kitchen lightened up to reveal your fucked out face and Yoongi’s wild hair from your hands scratching up against his scalp.

A blushing Taehyung was standing in the hallway leading to the stairs.

In just over a few seconds you were a babbling mess meetings Taehyung’s shocked eyes.

That’s where something you never expected happened right in front of you.

Yoongi got up licking exaggeratedly his lips to stand in front of him and kiss him hungrily.

59 notes · View notes