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diejager · 1 month

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OMG FINALLY!! *muach muach* oh my actually I'm a bit nervous and excited now lolol. Uhm—well since your request is open can I have Pyra head and Michael Myers (separately) chasing survivor!reader in trial but they just ignore the other survivors, solely chasing reader till the end of game. Something dark and lustful lingers around those two killers and you just don't know why! By the end of the game, the other survivors manage to escape to the campfire safely, however reader got stuck alone with the killer. When they finally catch you, oh shall you know all your hopes may shatter to pieces. You think this is the end, in the hands of ruthless killer chosen by Entity. But why their face (in pyra head's case it's his helmet) getting closer to your face and what make it's more confusing something comes out of that mask (i.e. a long tendril similar to tongue). Breath kink but instead of hand choking or strangulation, you choked on their tongue 👅

Feel free to ignore this if you still don't open req for dbd fandom

☀️

You are feeding me ambrosia with this sunnie!!! I have a weak spot for both of them, but-but- the Unknown??? Any thoughts????

Cw: DARKFIC?(it’s dbd, what do you expect??), DUB-CON/NON-CON, predator/prey, implied death, obsessive behaviour, choking?, super long tongue??, size kink/difference, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.5k

You were… unlucky. The Entity seemed to rejoiced in your pain more than any other survivor, feeding on your dashed hope for an escape from the perpetual cycle death and sacrifice, the painful sting on being slashed, the horrifying fate of being killed by the killer’s weapon of choice or the terrifying agony of being hooked. It was a painful affair, being the subject of her perverse protection, locked away in her universe to feed and be fed, blood for blood —quid pro quo.

But at times, your moments in her dark world was warm and charming like the people who gathered at the campfire, sharing their skills and abilities to keep the others alive throughout the…trials. The small moments stolen within the fog to keep yourself up and going, and happy, little smiles and bubbly laughs. It made trials easier, to know that the people who were screaming and working had your back in and out of them, to know what they would do made working in teams better and reassuring.

And yet- and yet it was all for nought, the killer had eyes for you only, stalking and following you with his arm raised despite the others coming between you two to stop him from maiming you. Unfortunately, The Shape - Micheal Myers - in all his ghostly glory and dirty suit, was a creature of obsession, of predatory possession that gave him a one track mind, tunnelling the person who he chose as his obsession; and you happened to be his choice of madness these last round, even when Laurie was with you.

There were some pros and cons with his constant stalking, the quiet steps echoing not so far behind you while they worked on the generators, unbothered and safe fro Myers, but you were stuck kitting him, running away from him by jumping over windows and dropping palettes wherever you could stun him to give you just a few more seconds of distance. He grew so, so close on multiple occasions, you felt his breath and his dark and imposing figure behind you, but he never once struck you down with his big knife.

It wasn’t so bad as long as he didn’t hit you, letting you run around and avoid the other three until they finished all five generators and opened the gates, the bell ringing loudly over your head, and even then, he ignored everyone for you. He, somehow, managed to corner you, to far from both gates and your teammates who you - in a desperate plea for a win - had yelled out to leave and let you find the hatch or run to a gate if things got didn’t worsen. Which had left you alone, ears ringing and head beating against your cage, cornered and afraid of the giant who stared you down with a red gleam in the dark pits of his eyes.

Every step he took backed you up further against the rugged wall of a house - his childhood home - and pressed himself against you, the rough texture of his suit irritating your skin as he dropped the knife to touch you, running over his course fingers down your shoulders. Myers was scarily touchy, pads digging into the fat of your hips, groaning and grunting as he ground against you, drinking in your whimpers and hisses, fists hitting his chest without any result. Was it so surprising? He was a monster, a devil’s spawn, who had you in hands, a uselessly struggling victim that was too weak to stop him.

His game of cat and mouse came to an end, where you forgot what you were initially doing, choking around his thick fingers, the filthy taste hitting you harshly as his jabs. He pressed his fingers down the back of your throat, panting loudly at your gags and rutting his fattening cock on your navel. You shuddered at the feel of it, the thick bulge threatening to pop a button off his jumpsuit, and you feared, you were terrified at your wandering thoughts, the implication of it when faced with a beast like Myers.

Ding

Then the final call rang, a long and echoing sound that called the end of the trial. It was quiet for a few seconds, and all you felt was pain, agony ripping through you as The Entity swallowed you up with her many arms. The last thing you saw was Myers bulge, pushed to your bloodied lips and filling your dying nose with a thick and heady musk, a metallic and dusty smell that would linger on your tongue.

You had hoped that she would give you a second, let you bask in the worry and affection the other survivors gave you, her whispers summoning you elsewhere in a drowning cloud of black fog and sent into your next match, placed somewhere in Midwich Elementary School. The many winding halls and rusted metal worked to confuse the survivors and killers alike, leaving only a selected few who were familiar with this realm. You crossed path with James a few times, but you knew he wouldn’t have given an offering for this, it was a sore memory for him, a reminder of his sins and regrets. So that left a single open left: Pyramid Head, the wandering executioner in the halls of Midwich, sentient and brutal in his ways.

He was a monster everyone feared, something created from the mind of a tortured man rather than a human turned monster, he was born a nightmare and would perish as one. That’s why you hid whenever you heard the telltale sound of his rusted great sword drag across the floor, knowing he had chosen you as his obsession and was actively turning a blind eye to the other survivors. You heard a few screams here and there, but he hadn’t downed anyone, seemingly to prefer leaving them half dead and limping to the next generator or survivor to heal.

You were doing well, working with Jane on the third machine, smiling to each other and sending encouraging glances while you looked over your shoulders from time to time, but your luck had run out. Pyramid Head stumbled your way, his head bobbing over the thick cords of his shoulders and chest, sinewy muscles bulging with every move. You both ran, Jane up the stairs and you down the hall, and he followed you. It was a familiar feeling, being the chased obsession of a killer, singled out by him to be the victim of his choosing.

Unfortunately, The Executioner never truly relished in the hunt, prowling fast and hard, ready to kill whoever he crossed, yet, strangely, he hadn’t raised his great sword, chasing you down a hall and into a dead end. You were fucked. Oh so terribly fucked if your assumptions were right. You turned to face Pyramid Head, fearfully glaring at him, eyes scouring the open space around him for a small point to slip away. You felt your small star of hope extinguish when he suddenly appeared before you, moving faster than he usually would, blocking your way with his body.

He was hard and warm under your palms, his laboured breathing resting on your shoulder in his dazed wandering, his ripped and bloody and filthy arms brushing against yours and feeling you up. You closed your eyes in terror, trying your best to snuff out your thoughts and the feeling of his touches, his fingers pinching and kneading the skin of your hips and thighs, slipping behind to occasionally feel your ass bend under his strong hands. You whimpered, raking your nails down his arms, trying and failing to stop him from going forward with his wants, turning your head away from him.

It seemed like he didn’t like that, forcing a gasp out of you when a wet appendage lapped at your cheek, leaving a slimy trail of drool until you reacted to him, gaping and hissing at him; and he took your shock and disgust to his advantage, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You retched, throat closing around his tongue, thrusting slowly to the back of your throat and up to spread over your palate. He lathered your mouth in his drool, willing your smaller and less nimble tongue to push at him, choking down any cries or gags from the sheer disgust that filled your guts (despite the small spike of arousal in your guts).

You wanted to scream about your situation, this fucked up situation you keep finding yourself with monsters like The Shape and The Executioner. Why you? Why you out of everyone else? You weren’t as significant or strong and determined as other survivors, so it confused and worried you, if they would force themselves onto you again and again until they either broke you or moved onto another poor survivor. But perhaps- just perhaps you could make something of it, seeing the thick pole that poked at your stomach, poking from under his loose loincloth and wetting it with a dark spot at the tip.

You loathed The Entity and her plans.

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novalizinpeace · 2 months

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This question just came up randomly from my dyslexia, but I'll ask it anyway.

Why did you name the characters exactly what they are called now? Like, what gave rise to giving them such a name? Especially a question for Neill.

(By the way, I pronounce his name as “Nail” (nail and hammer) due to dyslexia and only now realized that Neill is correct)

It took me like 3 hours looking for the names for each children (on the original post were i introduce them), 'cause i was really trying to get details both for the original critters and the children own personality in said name.

Let me use Google to explain the meaning part, and then i explain my own work with it. long post guys, Nova is gonna talk a lot

First with Nell

As i said before, Nell's name was fitting for him 'cause the ''Shinning light'' goes fine with Dogday character, but on the other side, the ''hard as a horn'' was the part that, for me, work with the experiment one: Nell's can be emotionally weak, but his temple and spirit is the strongest in the gang, specially if it mean to protect those how he care, he's the shining light of the killer team, their boss but most important, the one that is ready to give his life for his loved ones.

Now, Callem (here it show Callum, but is another way of write it, it mean the same)

Just, is a simple meaning, and yeah the bird side was for Kickin, BUT the meaning of said animal is was Callem's character really is about

Callem is the free spirit of the gang, a soul that is only trapped in the physical way, but that doesn't care about anything else, he isn't afraid of cry, of scream, of love. Yup, maybe he doesn't take the iniciative with Nell, but not 'cause he's afraid, but 'cause he care for Nell's feelings, he never liked to be force to do something, why would he force Nell out of his comfort zone? He's ready to fly when needed, that's Callem for you.

Now, Charlie

What does this had anything to be with Bubba? Well, this was a inside joke with my lil' cousin, that when we read the name Charlotte whe remember the spider, AND then we remember the game song (in spanish, idk if there's a version in english) ''Un elefante se columpiaba sobre la tela de una araña'', it was a silly moment, but she ask me to name him Charlie, 'cause she liked the name and, in her words, ''Tiene cara de charlie'' (he had a charlie face). So yeah, Charlie doesn't have a strong meaning in his name, but hey, the ''Warrior'' part was what make me put him in the Killer team, and it a choice 'm really happy about.

Now Alba

The ''white'' meaning is for literally Crafty's fur, and also the name is kinda relate to a colour palette, so it fit in her side. Now, with the experiment, is basically a mirror of Nell, but in a more ''bright'' way; Nell and Alba had always been mirrors of the other during their time working in the playcare, but Alba has something that Nell doesn't: A mind without attachment. Alba never had something to care about in her past life more that herself, something that make her miss her past life, so when she learn the true, she was angry 'cause she was used, no 'cause she wasn't a children in playcare anymore. Nell since day one has been emotionally ''in a eternal night'', there's something that give weight to his actions, something that make him worry. Alba was able to pursue Nicole, she was able to become the second in charge of the heretics, she was able to make a community with the little they have, 'cause her mind was already past the night, unlike Nell, that shine in the dark.

Now, Nicole

Obviously more close in meaning with the cartoon side that with the experiment side due the deatils of ''victory'' related to competitions, BUT in Nicole theres also some true: She has always been a fighter, maybe not in the physical way, but in her past life she refuse to let the employees experiment with her using the Poppy serum, doesn't caring if she could die without it, she wasn't a lab rat, and even after getting turn in Hoppy, she show them that she still was able to win over them, by been the most hard to tame, to the point of breaking the scientists's patience with a literal jumpscare (this gonna be show in her VHS)

Now, Samina

The name, as i read in another place, also mean a ''well feeded child'' that goes to the side of Picky, but the rest is for the experiment, 'cause yeah, the bitchiest, most intense and meany member of the gang is actually a generous soul, but a soul that had been breaked over and over again, and even after that still have a lil' piece of that kind soul to give to her friends.

And then, we have Amara

why i had to scroll so much to get this meaning? But yeah, 'm using the latin/spanish meaning of this name for her, that is basically ''to love'', something that work both for Bobby and for Amara herself, 'cause both were means to be a character full of love to give, full of emotions and ready to ''love'' those she care about.

Also! Funfact!

Do you know what Theo's name mean?

An interesing choice considering all his relation with the prototype, good on that Mob game.

And here ends my tedtalk, good night everybody!

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #smiling critters arg #ask #nova say

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bonesofapoet · 1 year

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heart under the gun

[ simon 'ghost' riley x you ]

author's note : the one where you're stuck in a safehouse and you just fucking pine for each other. language

word count : 703

There was always something magical about the world, once dusk arrived.

Even when it seemed the entire universe had fallen sideways, and your life had been placed on pause - if only temporarily - there remained, under the battered, stained surface of your story, an unmistakable awe that lingered at the fraying edges; a kind of raw beauty impossible to miss.

Even if you weren’t searching for it, if you weren’t mindful of it staring right back at you point blank, so aggressively close to your face - it seeped in through the cracks. Always, lately, when it was the least expected, and, honestly? When it was most unwelcome.

This evening was a stunning example, really.

The sun had begun its fall into the night, dipping down behind wispy clouds and tree branches that reached tall and desperate, if only to feel the last kiss of the sun’s dying rays until dawn. Golden fingers fell through the canopies of their leaves scattered along the property, painting the ground in shadowed filigree patterns across tall, deep green grass.

Those wispy clouds had gone from feather gray and lily white to become beautifully stained with the palette of the sunset. Golds, deep oranges and radiant mauves were shining bright where the colors blended with the deepening violet of the sky above.

And yet, up is not where you were looking this time.

He was illuminated in the glow of stray sunbeams, rocking gently on the porch swing hidden around an alcove on the front porch - a charming detail that set this particular safehouse apart from the rest - in time with the gentle breeze. It ruffled the pages of the book held open in one hand - gloved, always - while the other remained draped across the back, next to him.

It had jarred you, the first few days the two of you had been here, just how peaceful someone could look when removed from the harshness of the field. The contrast of something so simple as quiet. . .it was different here. Everything was. Now, though, you had come to learn that this was just Simon being Simon. He had shed the skin of Ghost, slowly, if not hesitantly, the longer you were holed up far away from any front line.

The mask, however, was not so quickly cast aside.

Regardless, that didn’t stop you from admiring how Simon looked in the sunlight instead of shadows.

“You gonna keep fuckin’ starin’ at me, or can I help y'with something?”

Fuck.

Your recovery was quick, if not a little rushed, when you realized his brown eyes had risen from the pages to narrow at you instead.

“Yeah, Riley, you can fuckin’ help me with something," you snort for good measure. “Take your fuckin’ tea before I burn the shit outta my hand, would ya?”

He sees through it, anyway.

“Give it ‘ere, then,” gloved fingers wiggle in your direction, the arm draped across the swing reaches toward you.

You step to fill the remaining gap, the sun’s tendrils of gold slipping over you as you do. Bright flashes blinded you through the trees as you held a steaming mug out towards Simon. Gloved fingers brushed gently, quickly, over your own.

While you were busy trying not to drop the mug or go blind - permanently, this time - Simon’s eyes hadn’t left you. The descending sun had gifted you with a halo, bright, bold, and oh, so divinely ethereal he had to focus on his breath, had to tighten his grip on the mug, the book, had to feel the solid wood of the weathered bench beneath him to stay grounded because -

Fuckin’ Christ, he couldn’t look away.

Simon Riley had never been a religious man, but seeing you all glowing golden radiance inspired him to fall to his knees and pray.

He didn’t know what the fuck he’d say, didn’t even know if you would answer whatever fell through his lips, but he knows he’s never seen you like this.

Relaxed. Peaceful. Makin’ him tea just how he liked it, for no fuckin’ reason. You’ve done that often enough in the past couple of weeks that he knew it wouldn’t be scalding, wouldn’t be burnt or too strong. None of that extra, frilly shit would be tainting it either.

That’s something he liked about you. How you paid attention to the people you cared about -

Simon freezes. Oh.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #i am feral for this man #kas writes

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lo1k-diamonds · 2 months

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Call You Mine💜 Chapter 1

PAIRING: idol!Yoongi x OC

SUMMARY: Freya despises everything soulmate-related, but one day her soulmate shows out of nowhere and turns everything upside down.

"Why didn’t you reach out to me?" Her eyes watered in response to his words and he was certain. "You knew who I was, how I was suffering." It pained him to say so, but he knew it was true. It had to be a conscious decision. And he had to know why.

A slowburn rejection soulmate story to make you fall in love with Min Yoongi (again).

WORD COUNT: 7.4k (Total: 297k)

GENRE: Rejection, Soulmate AU, s2l

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: angst, huge ass story that is an emotional rollercoaster, rejection (tho it has a happy ending), OC has a strong personality and flaws (all my characters do really), desperation, explicit sexual content, semipublic I guess?, riding, consensual but there's conflict, soulmate bond is inescapable and shit happens

(You can also read it on AO3, originally posted in December 2022)

A.N. I have this poll I've been meaning to do about my soulmate series and to do so, I thought I should probably introduce those stories first 😅😋Yoongi's story is the third of the Soul Palette Series (but the one that started it all). Again, it is a realistic rejection soulmate story because I wanted a story where the female character doesn't lose her backbone as soon as [insert soulmate] shows in the picture/has sex. Lots of angst and fighting until the stars align ;)

"Poetry, music, a painting, they don’t save the world. But they save the minute. And that is enough.” Matilde Campilho

What were the odds?

“Freya, are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, I am,” she answered nonchalantly, looking out through the car window.

Her mood soured with the conversation and the woman steering the wheel sighed. “Whenever the subject of soulmates gets brought up you just become…” Freya gave her an ice-cold look from the shotgun seat. That made the woman mad, “Insufferable.”

Freya smirked through her pain and looked away again.

The woman sighed again, “We’ve been friends for almost nine years. Don’t you think I know you by now?”

Freya placed her elbow on the car door, supporting her chin on her hand. Her fingers covered her mouth strategically. She knew the lecture that was about to happen, Lidia never missed a chance to try and change her mind about this topic. She didn’t have the heart or energy to fight it anymore.

“Soulmates are each other's halves,” she started and Freya just clenched her jaw. “You were born with one, two parts of a whole.” Freya couldn’t have heard it or learned it better if she was in primary school. Sarcastic thoughts like that would flood her every time Lidia pulled that sermon on her. “Just because barely half the population finds theirs, does not mean yours isn’t out there.”

“Sure, he might be out there, but I wish to be like the other half of the population. You know, the one that was able to live happily by being with the people they chose to be with,” Freya said with a hint of victory.

“Fair, but it doesn’t diminish the fact that their soulmates are still out there. They might have never met, but that doesn’t mean one should just ignore it or—”

“I’m not ignoring it,” Freya cut, annoyed. “I told you, I never met that person. Why would I lie!”

“I don’t know, maybe because you hate the idea of soulmates so much!” Lidia yelled back, fortunately without taking her eyes out of the traffic. Motorcycles were insane, trying to get in between the moving cars to get ahead. Freya was happy it was Lidia driving them to the venue. Lidia took a deep breath, “If something happened to him, you know you can tell me…”

Freya sighed, feeling stuck in the same loop, “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never met him.”

She hoped that would be the end of it, for now at least. Lidia seemed fixated on the idea that she was lying about her soulmate, that something tragic had happened, or that she was avoiding the person. Which didn’t make any sense according to her own rules, for fuck’s sake! Wouldn’t she be sick and whatnot if that was the case?

“Fine,” Lidia relented, as she always did when confronted with Freya's bitterness. “I would just like you to be open-minded when you do.”

Freya bit her tongue to hold back her remark and let the car fall into silence. She hated that topic and now it was stuck in her mind. She had never met that person and she never wanted to. She had no open-mindedness to offer because she would never be okay with it. And she wished she could just yell it out until it got through Lidia’s thick sand castles and baby cupids and stupid pink heartshaped butterflies: meeting your soulmate was terrible.

Sure they were supposed to be your other half, but they could literally be on the other side of the world. With different cultures and upbringings, you could be paired with a terrorist, misogynist, psychopath, the list went on. Who was it to say that person would actually fit your personality and values? Absolutely nothing, as history showed. Quite frankly, the fifty percent of the populace that never met them were the lucky ones. Never meeting them meant never experiencing withdrawals of absence. Never bending or nullifying your beliefs and values for the sake of someone else that, though unique, was probably not even the best match for you.

Because let’s face it: though science had proven its existence, who was to say the bond meant the same to everyone, or that it should be the same? For scientists, it was perceived more as an absolute physical attraction that would lead to the best procreation. That had nothing to do with love, with fated partners, or whatever else was mediatized. It all looked more like a romanticized publicity trope used to sell way more chocolates, flowers, and cards than Valentine’s Day. Or to make people feel misfitted and incomplete until they did find that person, instigating them to consume goods, programs, matchmaking events, anything that could speed that along. Why should anyone live with the unrelenting weight of not having met someone they never needed? That could ruin them, their lives? It was all terrible!

She would have known if she had met that person. Though she in general avoided physical contact, the mere presence of the other person was supposed to be enough for the both of them to know. She of course had no idea what it would feel like, soulbonds were also reported with different intensities for different people, but she was sure she’d know if that fateful moment ever occurred. Moreover, she would feel the withdrawal. Though tolerable to some, especially with medication, it would be impossible not to feel anything. She knew that’s how it would always play out: even if she avoided them and ran through the nearest exit as soon as she felt the bond, the need would hunt her, both of them, for as long as they lived. That was something she was willing to endure, though she honestly hoped she never had to. If she never met him, she’d never have to. So, she wished she never would. Simple.

Freya glanced at Lidia, who was now pulling over the security of the event and showing them her badge. Lidia couldn’t possibly understand her standpoint, and as much as they would fight about it, Freya wasn’t interested in shattering her dreams. If Lidia could one day live happily ever after with her fated mate and actually be happy, Freya would gladly support her. She just couldn’t be deluded by the idea like Lidia.

Their nine years of friendship were very precious to Freya. Though the focus on her career had led her astray from many of her friendships, Lidia always stuck by her. She was one of her dearest friends. She would always call and catch up on her, whether Freya was at a fashion runway, strike, or in a warzone. Maybe that was why Lidia was the only person she ever gave two cents to in regard to soulbonding. Everyone else was free to be their own idiot, but Lidia was her idiot. Freya didn’t want to see her get hurt. Lidia felt the exact same way, she knew that. It was the only reason they fought about it in the first place.

Lidia parked the car in the underground parking lot and Freya was forced to move. They were still by the entrance of the arena, the lights from the streets made their way to where they were. Lidia opened the trunk and Freya got her material ready. There was noise in the air and she kept trying to figure out what it was.

Lidia closed the trunk when Freya gave the nod and Freya’s blue eyes widened in shock. Beyond the entrance, behind the security barrier, there was a sea of people. People chanting, jumping, and screaming.

Lidia was smirking at the sight, “Not your typical warzone, is it?”

Freya pulled her camera that was hanging on her chest to her face, regulating the lens to focus on them. They were mostly girls shouting, around their twenties, some if that. They had colorful banners with letters stamped on them and sticks with a ball that seemed to shine.

Click.

She looked briefly at the photo on the view screen, then up again at them. She was surprised.

“No, but similar. What could it be that makes them act like that?”

Lidia was passing her her media badge to access the event.

“Boys.”

He woke up from his nap, dazed. He kept having the same dream. He had had it for a while and in the beginning, he couldn’t remember it properly. Now, he could. No faces or characteristics, but he knew it was always the same person he dreamt of. When he told it to the others, they thought it had to be his soulmate and he had found the idea hilarious at first, that was impossible. But then, with the years, he started wondering. Was it that far-fetched that there was a connection between them if they were two pieces of the same soul? Maybe their pieces had an incredible bond and that was why he could dream of her.

Her. He couldn’t remember much, but he did remember that, which brought more weight to the possibility of her being his soulmate since soulmates were always of the opposite sex. For him, love or a partner was always about the connection, the person, not about their appearance or gender. He never felt like he had a gender preference because he would always look at personality first, but his soulmate would be female and he was okay with it. Though honestly, despite dreaming of her occasionally, he couldn’t conceive a relationship — he hadn’t had a serious one in almost ten years.

Life made it that way, and he accepted it. His career had taken off in a way he had dreamed and actually achieved. He was surrounded by amazing people, professionals, friends, and family alike. He had his fans, who supported him and allowed him to live every single one of his dreams, from making music, to not worrying about money, to being able to support his family comfortably. Did he ever wonder if loneliness was a price to pay for it all? Yes. Did he think it was? No. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, or his soulmate. They would show in due time. He was living, bit by bit, in tranquility.

He of course thought about what would happen if he met her. Seokjin and Hoseok had found theirs and they were exceedingly happy. They gave all others the hope of a lifetime of happiness and fulfillment, though none were particularly searching for it. ARMYs didn't know about their discovery, they had decided it that way. Not even necessarily because of the fans, but because of the sasaengs and paparazzi. The lack of privacy would be overwhelming and the men didn't wish to ruin their soulmates' lives.

If anyone had to choose who appeared the least interested in the whole soulmate trope it would probably be him. Yoongi was known for many things, he was aware, and the top included being snarky, lazy, and perfectionist. Some probably saw him as the most cold, obsessed with his music, a workaholic. It was somewhat true, he shrugged. Ideas were constantly in his mind and he was the happiest if he was putting them to life. That meant spending a lot of time by himself in the comfort and safety of his studio, space, and mind. It also meant he slept a lot. None of those characteristics meant he actually was cold or uninterested in finding his soulmate. Quite on the contrary, sometimes it felt it was the exact piece that was missing. He lived with it, but he wouldn't deny it or reject it if it happened. He would welcome her wholeheartedly, he had been waiting for some time now.

There was pressure to perform in front of thousands of people that night, as it was BTS’s last tour date in Europe, in Berlin. He was very tired, exhausted really, as were the others, but they were persevering. They had to, the quiet that would come after would be both a soothing balm and a curse. They had to make the best of it while they could, no matter what.

He was reflecting on that, at the backstage lounge after having slept a nap. The others were getting ready for the concert in other ways, though they were all quiet as the stress was building up. He walked out to reach the stylist's room and get his makeup done, knowing he would be the last one to do so when he felt it. He stumbled against the door awkwardly, completely taken by surprise. He looked around in shock, meeting the makeup artists’, hairdressers’, and stylists' surprised looks.

She was there. She was there somewhere.

He was there somewhere. Freya was certain of it. She knew she would know when it happened and she knew. She was terrified, petrified in place, but she knew.

“Freya, what’s wrong?”

Lidia sounded worried and Freya blinked blankly for a second. She had fallen against the wall and was now leaning against it. People were passing in between them in that corridor in both directions, oblivious to them, most speaking a language she didn’t understand.

Freya immediately forced a smile, dismissing her question. “I’m fine, I just tripped.”

Lidia accepted it because, in the turmoil of people running around backstage, that wasn’t surprising. Little did she know what happened. Freya was nearly sweating from nervousness, her body too hot to handle the May warmth.

How could that be, she thought, while following Lidia. She had lived in Berlin her whole life, why would it have to happen at a boy band concert? It made no sense, at all. On one hand, she had been super lucky to never stumble on him her whole life. On the other, really, a boy band concert? What if it was one of the fanboys outside?

That was her worst nightmare coming to reality. She wasn’t one to wallow in self-pity, but for fuck’s sake she almost had it. She almost lived a life in ignorance, free of fated bullcrap and withdrawal symptoms. Now she was facing her options: to run away immediately, to finish the job and hopefully never stumble on him, or to search for him. The latter wasn’t an option, and to leave without finishing the job was unprofessional. Lidia had asked her to be there to photograph that piece, the last concert date of the boy band in Europe, and she felt obligated to carry it through. They had an exclusive interview for their culture magazine and those photographs would make the fans go insane. Her professional code was above all else, she had fought tooth and nail to achieve everything she had. She vowed to never let her soulmate change her and it would certainly not start now.

Avoiding the person would probably be impossible, she considered, still following Lidia. The stadium was packed with fans and crew, there was no avoiding whoever it was. Since people kept passing through her constantly, she thought their bond must be pretty strong. Otherwise, how could it be that the sensation wasn’t fading as the person walked past her? They probably weren’t even walking past her. They were just somewhere in the vicinity.

There was no photoshoot scheduled, just the interview. When they walked into the artists' backstage lounge it was relatively quiet. There were seven, distinctively sitting in the corner of the room that had been lit and specially prepared for the occasion. Freya was surprised the artist’s crew had prepared that small arrangement for the interview, as it would usually be up to the magazine to arrange it.

She stayed by the door and grabbed her camera, pulling it to her face.

Lidia walked ahead with a gorgeous smile, “Hello everyone! Are we late? I hope you didn't wait long.”

The question was rhetorical, they were well ahead of time. Freya was immediately immersed in seeing life through her lens. She would do what she did best, soulmate pull bothering her or not.

She did not pay attention to the conversation between Lidia and the publicists, managers, and whoever else. She was certain Lidia pointed at her because she saw it through her camera.

"Just ignore her," Lidia said with a smile, glancing back at the camera. Lidia knew she liked to work in peace.

She wasn't a photographer who would take a thousand pictures to be able to choose one. She would take ten to choose five. That meant being very conscious of every angle, light, positioning, and framing. Everything had to be perfect. She had won awards for pictures she barely had to edit precisely because of her attention to detail. In warzones, she was severely limited in time and supplies, she had to make due. It wasn't the same circumstance, but her work ethic applied.

She liked seeing the crew work around them tirelessly and she wasn't shy about snapping photos of them. She was certain then that the concert was only about 20% the actual musicians. Not to diminish their work, but the show itself was not of their making. They were just starring in it.

The interview was well underway when she turned to the artists themselves. That wasn't problematic, their smile wouldn't change between the first and last question. She actually believed they'd relax more as the questions progressed, making their photos portray their true nature better.

Those thirty minutes flew truly by. She quickly scanned the photos she took through the view screen to make sure she had all seven in perfect soul-capturing moments, but she frowned. There was one that was different. He was speaking in the photo she took, he had an honest expression, and a beautiful complexion, but she didn't feel like the photo was as good as the others. He wasn't captured as well.

She raised her eyes to look at him and her heart jumped a beat. He was looking down, hands over his crossed legs. His hair was beautifully styled over his forehead, he looked almost like a doll. He sure was frozen, but she knew he was listening. His bandmate was answering a question in English and Lidia laughed, not too loud but not fakely either. That man smiled, not out of politeness, but out of understanding. Out of deeper thoughts. Something more meaningful.

Click.

She hadn't even thought of it, she had to capture it. Her stomach was twisting, she wasn't feeling too well. Damned soulbond shenanigans. She usually did very well in crowds, but she suddenly felt claustrophobic. She slipped through the entrance door and left. She was fighting hard for what was happening so as not to ruin her day.

He was barely containing himself. He had an urge, an energy pulse that wanted to pull at him and take him somewhere. He was sitting as still as he could, respectfully listening to the interview and answering when appropriate. He felt his smile might give it away, so he kept looking down. Some of the others noticed and touched him soothingly in worry, patting his back or shoulder softly. He stayed quiet, he couldn’t tell them yet.

When the journalist left and the room emptied a bit in the last ten minutes before the final preparations, he was finally free.

"What's wrong, Yoongi?" Hoseok was worried.

"Yeah, why didn't you answer the next album question?" Namjoon’s tone wasn't of irritation, just curiosity. "It's your question."

"You were really stiff too," Jimim commented with a concerned pout. They were next to each other and Jimin had at one point patted his lower back.

"Guys, let him talk," Seokjin interfered, waving his hand in front of his face. Was he getting hot? Cause Yoongi was burning up, and sweating without the show even starting.

"Look at him, he's flustered," Taehyung commented, looking at him from real close. Yoongi scoffed and brushed him away.

"Here's water, hyung," Jungkook offered him a water bottle which he gladly took.

"Guys," his voice sounded weird even to him. Since when was it this emotional? "I feel it."

"What?"

"Are you sick?"

"Don't push yourself too hard."

"Guys!" He grabbed Taehyung by the shoulders, who was still close and personal. He would have been annoyed if the occasion was different, he really didn’t care now. "I feel it. Her. She's here somewhere tonight. I feel it right now."

Chaos ensued, with some congratulations and some worries echoing throughout the room. They barely had a minute to discuss it with their manager Sejin, the first to be informed.

They were rushed to the level underneath the stage and the manager just smacked Yoongi’s shoulder, "Focus on the show. We'll find her after."

He was nervous now, and not about the show. His mind was processing the facts now. The person wasn't in the crew, he would have felt it before. It had to be someone who entered the venue when he felt it. That could be anyone, from fans to workers, and little could be done to slim the number down from tens of thousands to one. That thought made him despair. How would he ever find her in so many people?

"Hey," Namjoon had his hand over his shoulder. His eyes had a glint of concern, but his expression exuded confidence. "She feels you too." Yoongi nodded, taking a deep breath. "She'll probably come forward after the concert."

"She's probably an ARMY," Hoseok winked. Yoongi just shrugged, he didn't care if she was. That was the least of his concerns right now.

"Just think this is for her, for all of them," Jimin added with a light smile.

Yoongi nodded and rushed to the stage, the same as them. He gave it his all. He was exhausted, but he wasn't giving up. He knew he shocked his brothers because he had probably never shown such a performance before. He couldn't explain it. He had newfound energy, and hope. Things would be different from now on, for the best. The thought that she was listening, and seeing him perform gave him an extra incentive. He teased the public way more than usual. He rarely displayed his English skills as openly, but the circumstances told him she couldn't be Korean. Whoever she was in that crowd, he wanted to make sure she knew they could communicate. Could she even tell it was him? She was probably as lost as he was.

The pull was hard. Freya was facing the whole crowd from that spot, near the stage. She could easily take pictures of the stage, as well as the fans. She was trying to focus on her job, but something kept interrupting her. Sometimes she would feel goosebumps all over her body, though she did not know why. Maybe if that guy stopped talking on the microphone all the time, she could actually hear herself think.

She rubbed her eyes with a sigh; the show was almost ending, it would be over soon. She was particularly snappy because of the bond-induced tension, she knew that. She would be able to leave as soon as it ended, just a little while longer.

Or so she thought. The venue started emptying and Lidia insisted for them to stay. She didn't complain at first, taking pictures of the heartbroken fans when the show ended. Most of them were emotional, tears staining their faces, but they were smiling. For them, it must have been a life experience to see BTS on stage. If only Freya could have appreciated it as much. She also wanted to cry. She wanted to run away so badly.

The venue was nearly empty when a publicist showed up to call for Lidia. Apparently, there were some matters left to discuss. Lidia nudged Freya, saying how nice it was of them to let them experience the concert for free before getting back to business. Freya knew it was nice, but she just shrugged. She wanted to leave.

But she couldn't, Lidia was her ride. She could always run away either way, but it wasn't professional.

"Do you want me to come with you?" She asked, willing.

"No, it's just a meeting. Footage of the fans leaving, the empty poststage and backstage, or even the tired artists are more important. Make it count," Lidia winked before leaving. She probably didn't notice Freya’s expression, as excited as if she was sucking on a sour lemon.

She needed to calm down, she thought. She had to be professional above all else. She could not, and would not, have that stupid occurrence ruin her photojournalist reputation. Over her dead body.

She exited the designated area, aimlessly taking shots whenever she felt it was worth it. She had her bag with other lenses that she would switch occasionally. She got lost.

Yoongi was despairing. He couldn't help it. He wasn't even listening to the argument anymore. He was focused on the feeling, on the internal drum. He was panicked that it was going to disappear in a heartbeat.

"There's nothing we can do! We can't prevent the fans from leaving the venue, we can't force them to leave one by one. Not to mention that just touching the subject would immediately destroy any option of privacy for Yoongi or his soulmate." Sejin was being reasonable, everyone knew that. But one glance at Yoongi's face said it all. It was not enough.

Namjoon kept arguing, but Yoongi turned around to face the mirror, closing his eyes. He felt someone behind him.

"Do you still feel it?" Jungkook’s kind voice asked.

He nodded with his heart tight in his chest. He did feel it, he felt it better now, if that made sense. It was called a pull for a reason. He felt pulled, compelled to move, to go somewhere. He didn't know where, he didn't know if it worked and it was probably not safe for him to leave that room. But he felt it as though he was a compass with an arrow juggling around. No one was going to find her but him. And he absolutely couldn't lose her.

He opened his eyes and confidently walked out, not paying attention to anyone. He didn't notice his brothers calling or manager Sejin telling them to let him go. The venue was nearly empty, maybe one-fourth of the fans were still around. He still felt her, so maybe they had a chance.

He walked to the higher levels completely on a gut feeling. He hadn't even changed outfits or showered yet, he was straight out of the stage with a gray hoodie and black tight pants. He had a black headband over his hairline that kept his short dark brown hair from falling down his eyes and the sweat from dripping. None of it mattered though, he didn’t have time to look presentable, he needed to find her.

When he reached the higher level, he wasn't even afraid to meet fans, the thought didn’t occur to him. He just stumbled, numb. He could barely feel it anymore, it was like a pulled elastic at the end. It was still there, and so was she. Yet, for a second his chest filled with anguish and it physically hurt. He had no sense of direction anymore. Nothing made sense anymore. He was failing and it was useless, he had no idea of what to do.

People were starting to mumble around him and he was brought back to reality. He needed an escape, to hide the repressed feelings that were starting to make his chest hurt. There was a door in front of him. He entered the room, slamming the door behind him.

Freya was walking aimlessly, completely lost. There weren't that many people around and she wasn't really interested in taking pictures anymore. The moment had passed. She hoped to catch the band leaving, knowing that was the kind of shot her magazine could appreciate for the online version of the article.

The more she kept going, the more sure she became that she was going the wrong way. She was effectively ignoring her surroundings and just going. The crew was going in the opposite direction, the fangirls and security too. She tried convincing herself that was totally normal. It was totally her own will taking her somewhere in order to snap more pictures. It was not that gut-wrenching pull telling her she had to be somewhere.

She was walking down a corridor when she suddenly froze. Her body was burning up, her heart racing out of control, but her gut clearly knew that was it. No need to go further. She was deaf at that point, the bond so strong it was a deafening physical energy current around her pushing her in only one direction: the door in front of her.

Everything else was muffled and unimportant. Yet from the outside of the door, she could already feel she shouldn’t open it. The force was so strong it was numbing. Her hand hovered over the door knob and she wondered how it wasn't vibrating with the resonance of such a powerful pull. She wanted to fight it with all of her strength, and her hand trembled. It would change her life forever if she opened that door. She didn't want that to happen.

But she wasn't strong enough, it was just so much stronger than her. She succumbed to it, fatefully so. She grabbed the doorknob and tried to rationalize it. It couldn’t hurt to see him at least once, or at least to tell him she wasn't and wasn't ever going to be interested. Yeah, that's it. That was why she had to get in there. It wasn't that person's fault and she should at least tell him that.

She entered the room quickly, a small meeting room, and closed the door without turning. Inside, the pull became like a magnetic field, all around them like walls, instead of a single string. She turned slowly around and saw a man standing behind the center table, having risen from his chair, staring at her in shock. He was different than she expected, though she expected nothing. He looked tired, that was her first thought. Why was he so tired? His dark brown hair was wet with sweat and falling over his headband. His eyes were smaller than she would expect, and darker. His skin was so pale she wondered if it was porcelain; was that makeup? He was her height it would seem, though bulkier than her. That hoodie did not give much away, but he looked comfortable. She was somewhat happy he was comfortable, despite his tiredness.

Her eyes were glued to him like nothing else existed because nothing else did. She was walking slowly in his direction, completely unaware. She had heard of the trance but she never thought it would be that strong. Her body moved on its own, her mind clouded as if she was high on drugs. She was such a strong-willed person, and yet it seemed all her convictions evaporated. Her legs were jello and would only move in his direction. She argued that it was only physical, her mind was still alert. Yet they were a step away from each other when she recognized her own lie. Her mind was as interested as her body, especially because she recognized him. But from where?

They shouldn't have touched, she thought. As soon as their hands did there was no denying it. There was no reasoning that could explain what was happening, except soulmating. Her chest filled with cheer bliss while her whole body warmed up like crazy as if she was a firework ready to pop in a million colors. And it was strange to recognize the same sort of emotion in such foreign eyes, in a stranger's face. She felt endeared by that face, propelled to care for that person with the clear consciousness that she did not know him. And her heart, or should she say soul, was at peace with it.

She struggled with that thought. First, because she thought they would instantly love each other blindly or something, and she didn’t want that to happen. Second, because it confirmed her own theories that soulbonding would erase her sense of self, her autonomy, and her individuality. She would be damned if she’d ever let any of that happen.

She knew nothing would ever feel the same or compare to him. However, knowing it in theory or feeling it in practice were very different things. Every particle of her body and soul agreed that was it, her other half, and no other person, relationship or bond would ever replace it. She looked at her hands in his and she had to close her eyes for a second to control her emotions. The urge to hug him was making her toes curl.

“What’s your name?”

Her eyes jumped to him and widened. She knew him, she heard his voice a lot tonight. She pictured him without the headband in a pretty black suit and she gasped. He was one of the guys from the band! She was completely shaken to her core; how was that possible?! Weren’t they from the other side of the world?

Then she shook her head, but of course he was. He didn’t live in Berlin, or else they’d have met before. He only happened to come to Berlin, and she only happened to be invited to work that piece last minute. Lidia would call it fate.

“What’s your name?”

His voice gave her goosebumps. He was saying it in English, not German, but she was totally fine with it. Despite the slight demand from his voice, he was using a loving tone. A soft caress to her ears meant to not trouble her. But she was troubled, deeply. She fought to keep her mouth shut, clenching her teeth and looking away. She saw his chest heave to take in a breath before insisting on knowing her name and she panicked. She couldn’t deny him if he kept asking, her soul wouldn’t allow it. So she kissed him.

She censored herself for a millisecond before their lips touched. Kissing him went against everything she stood for. First and foremost, because she was invading his privacy, his personal space. She was attacking him, sexually assaulting him for fuck’s sake. Soulmate or not, that couldn’t be taken lightly. Second, because it was disrespectful as a whole to kiss someone without knowing if they consented. What if he had a girlfriend or was married? Third, because she wanted to keep her distance from her soulmate. They were never supposed to have met, let alone touch or kiss. She wanted to leave, run away, and never look back. No matter the pain it would cause them both. That was too selfish of her and the more they dove in, the more she would hurt him, wound him. His soul, the other part of her. He was an unlucky bastard to be fated to be her other half.

Despite the flawless logic in all of those thoughts, she couldn’t stop her lips and he didn’t seem to mind. He was surprised for a second, before supporting her waist with his hands carefully while she grabbed his head in place. For someone who wanted to run away as soon as possible, she sure was keeping him firmly in her grip.

She forced him to walk back until he was against the wall. She did so because now he had nowhere to go, she could press her body against him. She felt absolute ecstasy running through her blood. She could not stop kissing him. She could not be stopped. She vaguely thought the only way would be for him to ask it, and she doubted he ever would.

His hands stayed respectfully at her waist, frustratingly so. It was infuriating in a way how he seemed to be more in control than she was when she was the one who didn’t want this to happen. She should be outraged that they were kissing without her consent. She didn’t have the mind space to think about that though, she would reflect on being a hypocrite later.

For now, his lips tasted like heaven. She was going into all the corny tropes because they fit exactly how she felt. She was riding the wave of a rush and it was divine. She had never been high on LSD or cocaine, but she imagined it came close to that. Her tongue had no problems invading his mouth, provoking hot waves of pleasure to reverberate through her whole body. The way he just accepted it, as if giving her the full reins of it, stupidly turned her on, egged her on. He was the only one who could stop her, why didn’t he?

She fought hard to stop their makeout session and pulled away, panting uncontrollably. She was eating him alive. So much for saying ‘goodbye, let’s never see each other again’.

“You… What's your name?”

Their faces were still glued together, his arms around her. She pushed herself away and turned to the side, covering her mouth with her right hand. Somehow, pulling away from him exhausted her. She felt like even gravity was against her. She stayed like that, panting at a short but safe distance, looking at him.

After a moment of silence, he walked to a chair and sat down. The corners of his lips were raised in a small smile, he looked calm. He had all the time in the world, it seemed. Well, she didn't, she had other things to do. Like running away and never look back. Stupid soulbond was too heavy, her legs were stomped.

He pointed at the chair across from him, on the other side of the table. "Please, sit."

She wanted to scream. He was being so gentle, so condescending. Was she an idiot that couldn't keep herself away? Y- No. She wasn't a fangirl. She was a hard-working adult. An award-winning photojournalist. She was in control. Mostly. She couldn't even look away from him, that empty chair had nothing on him.

She tried calming herself down. She took her camera strip out of her neck, letting the camera sit on the table, and then she also dropped her lens bag on the floor next to it. Her breathing was stabilizing and she swallowed dryly. He was patiently waiting for her. He looked like a mythological God observing her, a mere mortal, to cope with his presence. And she had all the intentions of kneeling and begging for whatever mercy he could give.

She scoffed and pulled her copper hair back, out of her face. It was good. That soulmate thing… It was strong. She never thought it would get to that point. She knew when to admit defeat. And that was certainly, still, not the time to.

She took a step forward, convinced that she was in control. She was going to put her hand on his shoulder and say, ‘I’m sorry it had to be me. I’m not interested. Let’s forget this ever happened.'

Her hand actually hovered over his shoulder for a moment, when her blue eyes deviated to the exposed skin of his neck. Her hand trembled while she struggled between her wills, visceral thoughts opposing one another. He must have seen her inner battle because he extended his hand and guided hers to his shoulder calmingly. It tipped the scales.

Her hormones, body, whatever it was took control. What she wanted beyond him didn’t matter, no one beyond him mattered. She felt like everything in life was secondary, a faded background, dim against his brightness. There was only one thing she wanted.

Her leg heaved to the other side of him and she sat on top of his legs. He seemed to be expecting her lips when she leaned forward to greet him. His hands went to rest carefully by her waist while hers kept by his neck. He was taking her kisses fully, meeting her passion without ever imposing. But she was hungry. She started grinding herself against him and as soon as she could feel his hard-on clearly through his pants and her shorts, she just couldn’t stop anymore.

Her mind became foggy and nothing else but their pleasure meant anything. There was something at the end of the rainbow and she wanted it. Not want, want. Like the need to breathe. He grunted and parted their lips, trying to look around, at them, at her.

She got up with a weird sense of ease. She unbuttoned her shorts without ever dropping her eyes from him. His, however, accompanied the fabric’s descent down her naked legs. She pulled her panties down in the same motion and he seemed to understand. His expression was now serious, as she imagined hers. She wanted it, like oxygen. Like daylight. He could stop it though. One word and her world would crumble.

He extended his right hand for her to take. She took it and got closer. He meant to get up, but she stopped him. She unbuttoned his pants herself while her heart drummed in her chest. It wasn’t even about what he was going to look like or anything of the sort. She just had to feel him.

She got on his lap and immediately pulled his erection out. It was hard and shiny, extending proudly upwards. Their eyes met and no words were spoken. His hands were on her hips and she just did what she was supposed to. She sat down.

It had never felt that way before. She was never the most sexual person, but it was not supposed to feel like that. If she had a will, it vanished then. Her completeness could not be described. It was like an explosion of color, like a gust of wind, like the stars on the black pane of the universe. She was a boat looking to anchor, he was the nest she came to sleep in.

Once the cosmic waves were done resonating in her nerves, she opened her eyes, aware. It was like seeing everything blurry and then putting on glasses. She understood. She could barely think, but she knew she understood. And looking at his eyes, she knew he did too. His arms raised around her in a tight embrace to keep her close while her hips started rolling. She felt embraced, and accepted, like a promise was being made. Their bodies were giving something to each other because that was the only way their souls could be one again. That pleasure making her skin stretch was the extent their souls would ever touch each other. That was sad in a way, making her feel anguish. Yet he kissed her chest, right over her heart, making her come to an almost full stop. He was promising. She started moving again. That promise would only be real if they committed. If their souls actually touched and joined.

She had never felt pleasure like that. She thought she would reach her orgasm very soon, but somehow there was more. Like an endless staircase to heaven. He grew impatient with kissing her shirt and forced it out. She gladly helped. His lips on her skin were everything, and she moaned through clenched teeth at the shock. His tongue darted out to feel her breasts, contouring her bra edges and sneaking in as much as he could. She was still going, jumping as low as possible so he could do it. She grew impatient and her hands reached her back to release the bra when he stopped her.

He grabbed her hands, “No, don’t stop.”

It was a catalyst, if there could be one. His hands groped her firmly everywhere while she got lost in the feeling of riding him. She was now moaning with every motion, so ready to reach him whenever he was.

He grunted from the back of his throat, “Fuck.”

She nodded approvingly and felt the instant he was ready. She forced his hands on her breasts to squeeze hard while she sat down strongly a few times, making him go so deep it nearly hurt.

Only it was pure bliss. She closed her eyes and all she could see was golden. Golden waves with particles of light. Her body trembled in spasms, her voice muted without breath. Her body felt like it was hovering in a breeze, floating. She could feel his hands, his body, inside and out. She felt warm and safe. Home.

It lasted maybe fifteen seconds. Then, the golden waves receded, the lights disappeared like stars in the morning sky, her body floated softly to the ground, and it was done. Her head fell over his shoulder and his hand came to rest on her hair. They were both panting. They promised, it was done. She was hugging him as tightly as she could. She was scared to open her eyes.

You can go here to keep reading [ao3] (this story is finished) 💜

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fluentmoviequoter · 9 months

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hii!! if you’re still taking requests could you please do one where the reader can also astral project and reader and dalton see each other in the further but don’t realise the other one is alive until they see each other in the real world or something like that?? i LOVE your writing so much btw 🤍

Thank you so much for the request and the kind words! This is SUCH A GOOD IDEA! Apologies that it took so long, but in all honesty it stressed me out because I knew I was going to mess it up. I hope this is at least on the right track and please let me know what you think! :)

Warnings: goes back and forth between reader and Dalton at first, a lil angst, fluff, lots of flirting, canon-typical (I hope) descriptions of the Further, 3k+ words

Don't Believe Everyone You See

Ten years ago, you watched yourself sleep for the first time. You thought it was a nightmare, so you didn’t tell anyone. Then it kept happening. When you finally shared what was happening, someone made a phone call. You were soon introduced to a woman named Elise, who claimed to know what you were experiencing and promised to help you navigate the ability. Elise told you that some people ventured completely into the darkness, which she called the Further. She said that you shouldn’t go all the way, at least not until you were ready to face what was in there.

You will never be ready. But the Further doesn’t care about whether or not you’re ready. Or whether or not you make it out alive. As you age, you learn more about the Further, take longer and darker trips, learn the triggers that deliver you into the Further, and don’t get as scared when encountering the souls trapped within. Although you have more experience, you still have little control over when you project and how you make it into the darkness of the Further. When it happens in your dorm, you can walk around campus and experience a world frozen in time. Which might be really interesting if there weren’t monsters lurking in every shadow.

After a few weeks of traveling in the dark, you know the campus inside and out, including where the darkest souls live. However, now it is more dangerous than ever to step into the Further; it's like a door was opened somewhere. Whatever the cause of the increase in violent creatures, the problem must be remedied. Perhaps you can be the one to close the door or plug the leak.

Closing your eyes, you count slowly backward from ten. After seeing a video in which surgery patients do so while receiving anesthesia, you tried it, which led to the complete relaxation that delivered you directly into the foyer of the Further. Opening your eyes and standing from your bed, you look down and see your body resting peacefully. Steeling your nerves and planning to find the source of this unseemly invasion, you exit your dorm and venture toward the darkest shadows.

Across campus, Dalton Lambert is trying to stay awake while he finishes an art project. He is settled in a peaceful place to work since Chris is in their dorm “blowing her hooter,” her self-assigned music homework. He releases a sigh as he finishes the last brushstroke, setting down his palette and brushes. Dalton leans back and looks at the complete painting of the house, remembering the time spent inside it before his coma but he has never been to it again. He feels something is missing, so he leans forward to get a better look, groaning at the realization that he is no longer in his body. Astral projecting, a term that Dalton knows due to Chris’ dutiful research, always happens at the worst possible times. Shrugging, Dalton decides he has nothing better to do and begins exploring under the cover of darkness. What’s the worst that can happen? Dalton thinks, then immediately wishes he could take it back. A bad phrase in the real world is usually nightmarish in the Further.

You walk until you can no longer see your dorm before you see an area that might be a gateway. There is a stretch of sidewalk with no streetlights and absolute darkness before you. Taking a deep breath, you walk into the emptiness and remind yourself to breathe as your senses disappear, one by one.

Dalton turns a corner, not paying attention to where he is, and is bathed in blackness. Continuing, he has a distant memory that there is a light somewhere within the Further, and he only has to keep walking. Seeing a faint flicker ahead, Dalton speeds up and follows the illumination until he can see the full outline of the lone lantern sitting on the ground. Dalton turns to look for another light and bumps into something, unintentionally grabbing it to steady himself. As his hands make contact, he realizes that it’s someone he’s holding.

You chase the light, not seeing anything in your path until you collide with it. Hands grab your waist as yours raise to what feels like biceps. Looking up, you make eye contact with what must be a very young soul and a seemingly innocuous one. Your eyes focus, and with the light of the lantern, you can clearly make out the face of a handsome guy, and you wonder how a spirit that looks like this – and saved you from falling – is trapped in a place like this. Suddenly remembering your purpose for coming, you remove yourself from his grip and walk around him, forcing yourself not to look back, scared that you’ll see the opposite of what you want.

Dalton stands completely still, flexing his hands beside him as he analyzes what happened. Taking a deep breath, he thinks about what the woman in the video, Elise, would say. Dalton recalls something about the souls being drawn to the living who cross into their realm. Nodding to himself, he decides it was just some twisted mind game that made the soul appear alive. As he turns to leave, he can’t help but think maybe the Further would have better luck claiming souls if they all looked like that. With one glance back, seeing nothing but the light from the lantern, Dalton heads back to his body and prays to anyone listening that nothing insidious happens along the way.

Waking up, you immediately think back to your encounter in the Further. With that in your mind, it is unlikely you will be able to focus on anything else. Pulling your computer out, you find videos of Elise teaching about the Further. Your research nearly makes you late for class, yet you leave with more questions and no answers.

Someone yells your name as you exit your last class. Your roommate runs up beside you, looping an arm through yours and saying, “I was thinking we go get ice cream then binge watch horror movies. What do you think? Wait, you aren’t scared of horror movies, are you?”

“How could I be?” you mutter.

“Perfect! So, I want to watch this one about a boy who goes to a summer camp and drowns, but-“

Your ears filter everything out as you stop, dragging your roommate backward. Not believing what you’re seeing, your eyes follow a boy exiting the art building across the street.

“What are you staring out?” your roommate asks. “Oh! He’s cute. But we have movies.”

You lose sight of him as you are dragged further down the sidewalk. Looking over your shoulder, it’s as if he vanished into thin air… or the Further.

Dalton is not paying attention where he walks as he sees someone who looks incredibly familiar. He had spent all morning convincing himself that whoever or whatever he had run into the Further wasn’t alive; it was just one of the many souls trapped there. Maybe the occurrence had been meant to keep him in the Further or distract him from reaching the door. Either way, Dalton believes that it was not what it seemed. Now he questions his belief as he sees someone across the road. Chris yells at him for nearly running her over, then grabs his backpack strap as she continues talking about her trip to the housing office. Stumbling behind her, Dalton looks back but sees nothing, just as in the Further. He was right, to begin with; it was never real.

When you finally return to your dorm room, you return to your computer and continue researching the Further. Clicking a promising link, you sigh as you realize it is an excerpt from a book. Skimming the contents, you check for an eBook and see that the book was published years ago and was never released digitally. Crossing your fingers, you check WorldCat and see that the library on campus has a copy. You quickly gather your things and open your door, stepping into the hallway with a newfound hope that you can separate the Further from this realm... forever.

“They just emailed me my new room info,” Chris says as she closes her laptop. “Time to help me move, Dolphin.”

“Please?” Dalton prompts as she stands and begins packing.

“No problem,” she quips.

He shakes his head before standing, immediately weighed down as she places items in his arms. She squeezes everything Dalton isn’t holding into one bag and hoists it over her shoulder.

“The end of an era,” she begins dramatically. “I’ll miss your annoying nightlight and your persistent refusal to let me set you up on a date. I won’t miss some things though.”

“Chris, this is heavy, can we go?” Dalton interrupts.

“Fine. We’re only going up a floor. I’m the room above you, so be warned, young man.”

Dalton rolls his eyes as he follows Chris out of the room, closing the door behind him. While climbing the stairs, Chris rambles about something while Dalton wonders if he should return to the Further for answers. The videos Chris had shown him were helpful when figuring out what was happening, but not much more. The more answers Dalton found, the more complicated the questions became. He stops behind Chris as she pulls a key from her pocket and opens the door.

“Roommate is a transfer student or something, won’t be here ‘til October,” Chris cheers as she enters, pulling her suitcase behind her.

Dalton feels eyes on him but ignores it as he enters the room behind Chris. He drops all of her stuff on the bed and then collapses next to it.

“Need anything else?” Dalton asks, crossing his fingers that she says no.

“Nope,” Chris answers, popping the p sound. “You are free to go. This isn’t goodbye though, Dolphin, someone has to keep forcing you to have fun.”

Dalton stands and walks toward the door. “Yeah, yeah, go blow your hooter.”

He closes the door behind him and rubs his eyes. Once again sensing that someone is looking at him, he takes a deep breath and prepares to explain his presence on the girls’ floor of the building, but doesn’t get a chance to.

You look up from your phone as you lock your door, seeing someone’s back walking into the once-empty dorm beside yours. The boy looks familiar, but you can’t place why based on what little bit you can see before he closes the door. Clicking the phone number for the library, you stand outside your door as you wait for an answer. When the line connects, you immediately begin speaking.

“Hi, I’m looking for a book for a research project,” you explain, then provide the book's name and author. You hear someone typing on a keyboard, then a moment of silence.

The librarian speaks again to say, “We’ve got that one. It’ll be at the front desk when you get here.”

“Thank you so much!”

You end the call and smile, hoping the book provides some answers. It has all the keywords you are looking for, but the Further isn’t known for its consistency or any way to crack its code. Slipping your phone into your pocket, you turn toward the stairs to go to the library when the door beside yours opens again. The boy steps out and leans against the wall as he rubs his eyes. You watch him, feeling like your heart is in your stomach as you recognize him. Looking down the hallway, you see other people moving and confirm that what you see before you is real.

“Hey,” you say quietly, watching as he turns toward you and his eyes open.

You can tell he recognizes you because he does the same thing you did, looking for other movements and signs of life. Once he confirms he’s awake, he takes a step closer to you. As you get closer, you both begin to speak at the same time.

“I thought you were,” you both say together. Smiling at one another, you finish, “So did I.”

“I, uh, I’m Dalton,” he introduces, extending a hand to you.

You smile as you shake his hand and tell him your name. “There’s a book at the library that has a ton of information on the Further and how to contain it. I’m on my way to check it out, if you want to come with me?” you offer.

Dalton nods and quickly says, “Yes.” He clears his throat and tries again, “Yeah, I’ll come with. That sounds… helpful.”

You chuckle and walk down the stairs with him. He holds the door for you as you exit the dorm building. The silence grows awkward as you steal glances at one another as you walk.

“So, how long have you been projecting?” you ask.

“About ten years. You?” Dalton replies.

“The same.”

Dalton stops and runs his fingers through his hair. When you stop and face him, he smiles and shrugs. “Why is this so awkward?”

“The first time I saw you I thought you were a spirit trapped in the Further. Or some kind of trick to trap mine there. We didn’t really have a meet cute,” you answer, smiling.

“You don’t think that’s a cute story?” Dalton gasps sarcastically, placing a hand over his heart.

“What was your first impression of me?”

“Pretty much the same. I mean, I questioned it though. Never seen something that looks like you in there.”

“Thank you? I think,” you respond with a laugh.

Dalton opens the library door and follows you in, standing beside you as you check the book out. Walking back into the daylight, you hold the book out.

“Do you want to read it? Together, I mean,” you clarify quickly.

“Absolutely. I don’t have a roommate right now, so we can go to my dorm if you want. So, your roommate doesn’t see,” he looks at the book and reads the title, “The Further We Go. Seriously?”

“What do you expect from two guys named Tucker and Specs?” you counter, laughing and leaning against him.

“Wait, the Best Buy guys?” Dalton exclaims.

You grip his arm to stay upright as you laugh. “They do look like the Geek Squad!”

A passing student sends a slightly concerned look in your direction, and you try to compose yourself, letting your hand stay on Dalton’s arm as he leads you to his dorm.

“Before we do this,” you begin as you set the book down and sit on the bed across from Dalton. “What is this? Are we working together, or do we go our separate ways and probably never see each other again?”

“We’re in this together,” Dalton states. “We may be the only people in the world who understand one another.”

“You’re right about that.” you grab the book and sit next to Dalton, opening The Further We Go and spreading it across both of your laps so you can see. “Chapter One: Determining if You Have the Gift.”

“I think we can skip that,” Dalton states.

“Buzzkill,” you whisper, chuckling when Dalton nudges his shoulder against yours.

“Chapter 2: When You Meet a Really Cute Guy in the Further.”

“It does not say that,” Dalton argues, bending down to get a better look.

“No, but it tells me you weren’t paying attention to the book,” you point out.

Dalton turns his head and sees the smirk on your lips. I should kiss it off, he thinks.

“We should be able to skip to chapter five,” you say, eyes on the book again.

“You think I’m really cute?” Dalton asks, still distracted by you.

You look into his eyes and smile again. “You don’t pay attention very well do you?”

“To you,” he counters, his smile matching yours.

“We can’t read and flirt at the same time, Dalton.”

“Fine,” he groans.

After reading several chapters, you plan on how to enter the Further, find one another, and locate the source of the dangerous souls together. Dalton insists on escorting you upstairs to ensure you get home safely. When you reach your door, you turn and smile at Dalton.

“Thanks for coming with me. I’m glad we got a chance to actually meet.”

“Of course. I’m not hanging out with you ever again though,” Dalton says, his smile absent.

“Oh. Uh, can I ask why?” Your heart is in your stomach again but for a new reason.

“You wouldn’t let me flirt with you while you read.” He finally smiles as he finishes and dodges your hand as you try to punch his shoulder.

“You’re such a jerk.”

“Me?! That was cruel and unusual punishment back there.”

“Next time, you can flirt while I read,” you promise.

“I don’t know if that’s good enough.”

You roll your eyes and stand on your tiptoes, kissing his cheek before stepping back again.

“What about that?”

“One tiny kiss for two hours of not flirting? I think that’s a war crime in some countries.”

“Are you always like this?” you ask with a laugh.

“I’m never like this,” he answers honestly. “Just really glad you’re alive, I guess.”

“That sounds weird,” you tease. “But I’m glad you’re alive too.”

“I wouldn’t want to close the door with anyone else,” he admits. “Goodnight.”

“Me neither. Goodnight.”

Just before Dalton enters the stairwell, you yell his name and run to catch up to him.

“You were right.”

“About what?” he questions.

“It is a war crime,” you state.

Before he can speak, you fist his shirt in both hands and pull him down, bringing his lips to yours. His hand grabs your waist as he moves his lips against yours. The kiss is far too short, and Dalton leans into you as you pull back, smiling at him as you smooth out his shirt.

“Go get some sleep. Or don’t. Maybe I’ll see you in the Further.”

“You’ll see me either way,” Dalton points out, referring to your plan to meet the next day.

“I better. Or I’ll commit real war crimes.”

Maybe the Further has its perks after all, you and Dalton think as you return to your dorms.

#dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fluff #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert #insidious #insidious the red door #requests

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down-in-the-rainbow-square · 1 year

Note

Could I possibly request reader comforting a sad Wally? I've seen A LOT of Wally comforting reader but never any reverse.

Perhaps the scenario is that reader noticed that Wally's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes so they pull him aside or visit him privately to see what's wrong.

Wally Darling x Reader - Sad Smile

Hi! Thank you for the patience in getting this done. I don't know how long it's been! A week? Two weeks? Time is not my specialty. Apologies for going radio silent for a few days. I'm trying to manage multiple blogs at once and it is a challenge!

Words: 550

Type: One-shot, platonic

Tw: None! Cute and quick

You were one of Wally's closest friends, right behind Barnaby and Home. The two of you always hung out together, whether it be with the others or just the two of you. You thought Wally knew he could tell you anything, but apparently not.

You were sitting on the grass outside your house enjoying the sun. It was quite bright today, shining down onto your skin and warming you up. But not too hot! But not too cold, either. It was like catching a moment's comfy sunlight in winter.

You lived in front of Wally's house and could see him as he walked out. From a distance, he looked to be happy. Plastered across his face was the same pleasant smile he always had. In his arms, he carried a canvas with paint and brushes.

"Wally!" you called. He turned to face you. You waved him over, saying, "come here!" You pat the grass next to you.

Wally nodded and walked over. Sitting down on the grass next to you, he placed his canvas up against the wall and spread his paint tubes out in front of him. You looked to him and smiled.

"What 'cha doing today?" you asked.

Waly shrugged, responding, "I don't know, neighbour. I think I might just paint today."

You nodded, watching as he took one of the paint tubes - a red one - and pushed a splotch of red paint out of it onto the messy paint palette. With his brush, he dipped it in the paint and spread it across the canvas.

"What are you painting?" you asked. Wally shrugged again.

"I don't know."

You looked at him, then back to the painting. Slowly, the true image began to take shape. A round, almost circular red shape with a hole taken out in the side. From the top of the circle, he painted a brown line and green oval. An apple.

Though something was odd about the apple. It was missing a piece. A bite had been taken out along the side. Looking back at Wally, you noticed he was acting strange, too. His voice was... Melancholy, and you could see his once bright smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Wally," you began, "is everything alright?"

Wally turned to look at you, curious. "Why wouldn't it be?" he replied.

"You look sad."

Wally paused. He looked down at his shoes. Ever so slightly his smile faltered. Never a frown, always a smile, but it faltered, nonetheless. He took a deep breath and turned to you.

"I don't know, neighbour. I just feel sad today. What do you do when you feel sad?" he asked.

"Well... I usually do something that makes me happy," you responded.

"Painting makes me happy, but it's not working," he said.

You took a moment to think before speaking, saying, "do you want to visit Julie with me? She might make you happy. Or we can bake with Poppy - or help Howdy with his shop!" You smiled.

Wally looked down at his shoes again before looking up to you and nodding. "I'd like that," he said.

"Great!" you replied. Taking his hand in your own, you lead him towards Julie's house with a new skip in your step, and a new spark of joy in his smile.

#rainbow square post #welcome home #welcome home x reader #welcome home x y/n #welcome home x you #wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home wally #welcome home wally darling #welcome home wally x reader #welcome home wally darling x reader #wally darling x y/n #wally darling x you

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justhere4kpop · 6 months

Text

Easy as Breathing

P.SH x Reader

W/C:1176

Genre: Fluff, Stay at Home, Date Night.

Summary: You finally can have a date night with your partner, what will you get up to? He is the love of your life after all. Don't forget some shenanigans with a kitten.

a/n: Happy Birthday to one of my best friends on the entire planet! @hwaightme I love you so so so much and I can't believe we've spent almost a year together on this rock! Thank you for always believing in me even when I couldn't and making every day a little brighter with your art and delulu, you mean the absolute world to me and I love our chaos crew! I love you so much! I can't wait for many more! Here's to you!!!! <3 <3 <3 (also thank you my love @pocketjoong for beta-reading <3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dating Seonghwa was as easy as breathing, he fell into you like a missing puzzle piece and wamed your heart like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. He was there in the time you were studying for your degree and you were there as he and his group traveled across your home, attending his performances was something you had always promised to do whenever you could. He made sure to be there when you had graduated and you made sure that you were at the show for his birthday.

You had moved in together some time ago as you could never be away from each other long enough to keep your own place. Your home was cozy and minimal, it had lego displays and Star Wars memorabilia, a sofa big enough fo every member and yourself in the living space with a tv made for watching movies. The coffee table adorned with “The Star Wars Archives” “Star Wars Art.” and “Cabinet of Natural Curriosities.” A turntable adorned a corner of the room with speakers. Art hung on the wall, some you created, some you both had purchased from art fairs. The color palette was cooler, soft blacks and whites, a few accents of emerald and a pop of gold. Seonghwa had liked it for the rich vibes it gave him. You both had worked hard to make it into a home, this was your home. You remind each other it could be a cardboard box and it’d feel like home if you were together.

After what felt like Seonghwa being gone forever you both had settled on a date night, and while all your outdoor plans had been rained out or cancelled due to the weather you could still make the most of it. Grabbing umbrellas and ponchos you head to the local department store to pick up a few things, a lego set, snacks, a book or two, a puzzle, and a movie to potentially watch later.

“Okay I’ll start organizing the pieces into categories.” you said sitting at the now cleared off coffee table lego box open.

“Okay I’ll see where we should start.” Seonghwa smiled at you.

Lego building always starts peaceful but about halfway through you both are arguing if that’s the correct piece or if it’s actually the piece you’re holding because it looks more like the picture that way, you decide to make hot chocolate to get away from him and cool off because after all it is a silly argument, Lego building is very serious in this household, just ask your cat…also named Lego. The sweetest little black kitten with the brightest roud boba eyes. Seonghwa as a cat as you describe to your friends.

After your adventures in lego building you decide to do something a little active to wake up so maybe a few rounds of Just Dance, or as Hwa suggested a Youtube tutorial on aerobics. Then of course neither of you could decide on reading or the puzzle so you decide to snuggle up on the sofa and he reads to you while you lean against him, adjusting his glasses when they start sliding off his face since his arms are too full of you to keep them on his nose. You journey back to the lego building but of course you become distracted when Lego begins chasing the light reflected off your phone onto the floor. Your giggles becoming his favorite sound on the planet.

As the date night came to a close you made his favorites for dinner, a proper feast even. He held you close as you cleaned the kitchen and began waltzing with you as if in one of those old time movies with the big poofy dresses and gloves, him in a three piece suit. In reality you’re both in glasses and pajamas laughing as you stumble around the kitchen and listen to him humming. Finally settling in for the night back on the couch watching Kiki’s Delivery Service.

“Maybe we should get Lego, a Jiji.” Seonghwa smiled down at you.

“You sure you can handle two cats and a girlfriend Hwa?” you smiled back slightly.

“Well I’d have you to help out now wouldn’t I.” he pinched you slightly. You yelpped out in surprise.

“Yah! Park Seonghwa!” you hit him with a pillow.

“What’s like without a little spontaneity” he smiled and held your arms above your head before crashing his lip down on yours.

Lego jumped up on the table and let out a mighty roar. A tiny baby meow that stopped you both in your tracks.

“Yes sir Lego?” Seonghwa looked at the kitten who has yelled at his father.

“I think he said ‘Stop attacking mom.’” you chuckled from under the love of your life.

“She did start it Lego.” Hwa chuckled and scooped the kitten into his arms.

“Okay maybe we do need another cat since I now have no cat and no cuddles Hwa.” you pout gently.

“Well then, my little witch needs her Jiji doesn’t she?” he smiled and passed Lego into your arms and held you both close. “See this works much better doesn’t it.”

“It does……..PARK SEONGHWA!” you practically launched the kitten across the sofa and turned to hit the man who once again has found it in his enjoyment to torture his poor significant other while the cuddle on the couch.

“Have I ever told you how much I loved you.” he smiled as he stared into your eyes like they held the stars in the sky.

“You could stand to mention it more now that you’re here.” you stuc your tongue out at him.

“I love you very much darling. Very. Very. Much.” he emphasized each very with a kiss to your lips.

“You’ve now distracted me through the whole movie.” you chuckle and push him up gently.

“Alright alright, I give.” he sat back up and let you get comfortable.

It wasn’t long before the warmth of the blanket mixed with you partner in crime, a soft movie, and full stomach from too many snacks and tea began to drift you off to sleep.

“I do love you very very much my darling.” Seonghwa kissed the top of your head as you breathed peacefully without a care in the world. Yes dating Seonghwa was as easy as breathing.

Bonus:

You awoke the next morning, it still dark and damp from the non-stop rain of the night, the soft patter on the window, Seonghwa arrived with a coffee just how you like it and his laptop under his arm.

“Good Morning Darling.” he smiled softly as you sat up and took the coffee.

“Mmm Mornin’ ” you mumbled.

“I was browsing for our very own Jiji this morning while I was waiting for your coffee to finish, I think I found the perfect one. Sure she’s not a black cat like the movie but-”

“She’s perfect Hwa.” you looked at the photo of the mostly black cat with a sweet little white star patch over her chest.

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #baistander #bai ❤️🩷#bai #hwaightme #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa imagines #happy birthday my love #cromersquad

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arteastica · 4 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (20)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.1k

If you were ever asked to describe nostalgia to someone who has never experienced it before, you would say it’s like walking down the hallways of a museum at sunset, with nothing but the sound of your footsteps as company, echoing down seemingly infinite walls decorated with sepia memories that belong to happier, distant times.

For you, nostalgia was always the one who spoke most clearly in the silence, and just like the corridors of that metaphorical museum, it just so happened to be ghost-quiet in your office that evening. And in such solitude, when the only heart beating in the room belonged to you, your otherwise welcoming workspace became an echo chamber of unsought feelings and unwanted thoughts.

You looked at his empty chair. So much for a quick ride. You thought. It had been hours since him and Lord Koch had ventured into the field, and even though the Sun had decided to call it a day, you hadn’t. According to the clock ominously ticking on the wall before you, as well as the animated chatter coming from the dinner hall downstairs, your shift had ended a while ago, yet somehow you found yourself still sitting at your desk, fountain pen hovering over boring administrative stuff you had read at least three times that day, working extra hours, all because you didn’t want to go home.

Not without seeing him first.

Making sure he got back safe was part of the reason, albeit a small one. Because, if you were to be honest, in the end the decision to stay working overtime for free, had come down to something way less noble. It was simple: If you were still in your office by the time he came back, there was a chance of something happening, there was a chance of something changing between the two of you. And that possibility was enough remuneration for you.

Your eyes, however, begged to differ and, tired of looking at the same words over and over, decided to wander around the room until they found the big window behind his desk. The sunset sky, with its sad pinks and nostalgic blues, held nothing but the promise of more loneliness. And that melancholic palette you would’ve otherwise found pretty, as well as the empty chair behind his desk, acted as nothing but a reminder of how much you missed him, and you didn’t mean just today.

You missed how things were back then. You missed the warmth of his skin and the gentleness of his touch. You missed getting drunk on the rich sandalwoods of his hair: musky, earthy, a little sweet, and just the right amounts of spicy. You missed the addictive taste of his lips as well as the velvety, honeyed words that would leave them in your most intimate moments. And most of all, you missed the way his cobalt eyes would make your heart soar whenever you looked his way and found he was already staring.

That was the best feeling.

And it had been so long since the last time you had experienced it.

The calendar would argue it had only been a week, but if that was the case, then that week surely had the personality of a month. The clock would call it nonsense, saying that time was measured and constant. You knew that Leon, however, would agree with you.

‘Alike are time and water.’ He had told you just earlier that day, as he read out of a small leather notebook snippets of what was, in his own words, ‘some nonsense’ he had written on his way there. ‘Flowing slowly one drop at a time, or rushing by in the blink of an eye.’ You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then I look at you and watch it freeze, knowing little has it to do with the mesmerizing view, when I find myself in the midst of that algid winter that is you.’

Maybe it was the bright oranges and mellow pinks of the sky you were staring at, or the connotation of endings that sunsets have, but your vision started to get blurry.

And sitting there, listening to the distant clatter of cutlery, unsure if the thing beating in your chest was a knot or a heart, you felt forgotten. Like the stuffed animal nobody packed before moving out, or the grandmother nobody visits anymore. And you had no one else to blame for that.

If you could, you would have pinned everything on time. On how it makes children turn into adults and forget to write home. On how it turns friends into strangers. On how it makes people grow tired of each other. On how it was starting to make him feel fictional, making you wonder if whatever beautiful thing you had, ever even existed.

If you could, you would have excused yourself behind ignorance, hiding under the blanket of confusion, claiming you didn’t know what happened.

You wished you could. But you couldn’t.

You couldn’t, because you knew exactly what had happened. You had heard the words leave your mouth that morning. Very clearly, even through the loud sounds of your own pleasure. You had said them. Words that he probably didn’t need. Words that had been distasteful enough to push him away.

Guess that saying I love you can sometimes make you unlovable, after all.

He did warn you, after all: Scouts don’t start families.

They avoid love.

They don’t marry.

But, who was even talking about marriage?

Beginning to grow frustrated with yourself, you tried to blink your feelings away. But the more you tried, the more they would pour out, and the more your eyes would start to burn as a result.

And that was a problem because, in that very moment, you heard the unmistakable sound of his footsteps down the hallway.

You rubbed your eyes one last time as they approached, trying to erase any traces of your lingering melancholy, and when the door opened, your fingers hurried to fiddle with whatever papers they found in the top drawer of your desk.

You didn’t know if he had even thrown as much as a passing glance your way, but judging by the discreet, distressingly quiet way in which he headed straight to his desk without uttering a single word, you could be forgiven for thinking he hadn’t even noticed your presence at all.

And it hurt. It sure did. His silence was so sharp it stabbed the deepest part of your chest. So loud it broke you like the wailing of singers is said to shatter glass.

But, if you were to put yourself in his shoes, you would understand.

Why would he say anything?

You tried to reason with yourself while your fingers caressed papers and closed drawers.

Why would he say anything to his dumb, incompetent assistant?

If you were him, you wouldn’t utter a single word either, out of fear of being misunderstood. Because, in the presence of someone as foolish as her, any simple, commonplace action could risk becoming fuel for even more stupid, delusional ideas forming in her little head.

However, although it had taken that little head a while, it was finally beginning to understand.

That she was just his clumsy, fuckable assistant who, after opening her legs for him a couple times, had accidentally fallen in love in the process. Nothing more than a stupid, inexperienced city girl who didn’t know anything about life in the Survey Corps.

But that same city girl was starting to learn. Yes, she was was.

You rose up from your chair.

It may take her a while, but she always learned.

You walked towards the fireplace.

And once she learned, she made sure she never forgot. Never forgot that she was hired to make his job easier, not harder. To handle his mail, not to warm the left side of his bed. To administer schedules, not to moan his name. To revise budgets, not to beg for orgasms. To bring him tea, not more problems.

And like so, with all that in mind, you retrieved the kettle from the fire.

It wasn’t hard to believe that the Commander of the Survey Corps had other things in his mind. More important, better things than his foolish, lovestruck assistant.

You carefully poured boiling water into a porcelain cup.

But to this foolish, lovestruck assistant, the problem was accepting all the aforementioned.

You sliced a lemon and watched it sink into the water.

It was hard to accept that he didn’t feel the same way you did. It was hard to accept that his lips didn’t instantly curve at the sight of you, the same way yours did at the mere thought of the cobalt in his eyes, and that little frown he did when he was tired. And you didn’t need to look at him to know he had it on his face right now.

You didn’t demand to be the first thought he had when he opened his eyes, nor the last one when he closed them at night. But you just wanted to be a thought.

Just a thought. Maybe the one he had when the first snow fell, or when new buds sprung upon old trees. When the first rain of the summer fell on him while out on the field, or when a gentle breeze mischievously shifted his hair out of place in the fall. Or when it lovingly caressed his cheeks in passing, just like you would right now.

If you could.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you threw a glance his way. He was sitting at his desk, head down, hand busy on what you guessed was the report about the new horses. And it was so very funny. If you had it in you, you would have even snorted. How something that could bring so much joy could also bring so much pain. And even more puzzling it was, how a heart could feel both at the same time.

He was so beautiful. Sunshine strands falling on his face, hiding the depths of his thoughts. The genius of those strategies that were always several moves ahead of what anyone was capable of.

So attractive. The frown in those jungle eyebrows telling you it had been a tough day for him too.

You forced your eyes to look away.

Of course anyone would fall for him.

You thought as you added a spoonful of honey and watched it melt into the boiling water.

Maybe you could forgive yourself for having done just that.

You picked up the tray with whatever steadiness your trembling hands were capable of, and, in the company of a desperate, uncomfortable hammering in your chest, cautiously made your way towards him, the hesitance present in your footsteps making you feel as if you were in some sort of cage, approaching a wild animal.

It shouldn’t be like this. You had been bringing him tea for months. Every night. Without fail. So, why did it feel as if it was a complete stranger you were about to serve? As if you didn’t know how many cubes of sugar he took or how many spoons of honey he enjoyed.

“Be careful, in case it’s too hot.” You warned him, carefully placing the tray on the empty corner he always left for his tea. “I didn’t know when you’d be coming back, so I wasn’t able to let it cool down first.” You avoided looking at him, although it wouldn’t even matter if you did, because from the corner of your eye you could tell he was doing just the same. Head down, eyes on his papers, just like yours were on the tray, as you took your sweet time adding sugar cubes to his cup.

He likes it sweet. His tea. Very sweet. You reminded yourself, stirring as slowly as you could, praying the sugar cubes would also take their sweet time melting. Because, some hopeful, silly part of you still believed he would say something. You needed to confirm he could still see you. You needed to make sure you hadn’t become a ghost from his past. Not yet.

And for that purpose, even the coldest ‘Thank you. You may go’ would do it for you.

If you couldn’t have his hand to hold or his arm around your shoulders, the smallest word of acknowledgment would be enough.

But when none of those came, you realized you had no choice but to leave. Quietly. Collectedly.

Despite the painful knot stuck in your throat.

Leave. To your room. Where you could take care of it. Where your eyes could bleed an ocean, eroding the boulder-like thing you had for a heart. Chilling what was once warm inside.

“If you don’t need anything else, Commander, may I be exc-”

“Are you going to him?” The sound of his voice made your heart explode inside your chest, and its abruptness left you wondering if he was even talking to you.

You wanted to believe he was, but he kept his head down, pen in hand, unmoving; making it hard for you, in your desperate state of mind, to tell.

“Commander?”

“Are you going to meet him now?” He asked again, and this time his eyes found yours, dissipating any doubts you may have had.

And you would have allowed yourself to indulge in some form of cheer, happy he was starting any sort of conversation with you.

You really would have.

If only his eyes weren’t the color of a midwinter night, starless, pitch black, so dark it was impossible to see what was hiding in them.

But something was for certain: whatever it was, it wasn’t there this morning when he left.

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @mchlist @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @apts2000 @lucifers-nipple-piercing

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aspoetssay · 1 year

Note

Sunny… You’re a Godess… I love your work ! Are you comfortable with alphabet headcanon ? If it’s a yes, can I ask a SFW alphabet for Price ?

JOHN PRICE SWF ALPHABET (john price x gn!reader)

I'm back to posting after my exam session! Thank you so much for this request and your kind words! I hope you will like this as it is my first time writing something like this!

swf template

A = Affection

Price is a fairly affectionate man. He loves to get his hands on you - not very big on PDA, but he doesn't back away from occasional kisses in front of others. His hands in yours is a must. And trust me that he is not afraid to tell you he loves you or that you look beautiful in front of others—yes, he will get some teasing from others, but nothing will shut them up quicker than the look from their Captain.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He's very caring as a friend - that man has a huge golden heart. Most of his friendships start on the military bases, meeting new people, and working with them. Since his job is a massive part of his life, it's unlikely for him to make friendships outside his job. However, he does have a friend from school with whom he reconnects a few times a year and just talk about anything.

You just know that he will remember any detail you tell him about yourself. He won't forget your birthday—he'll miss it, yes, because of his work schedule, but as a best friend, he will try to avert your wrath with something you enjoy.

C = Cuddles

Cuddle bear. That man needs to hold someone or be held. Big on being the big spoon, of course, there is nothing he enjoys more than having your body against his and sharing his warmth. If you are the type of person that's always cold - great! He'll make it his personal mission to warm you up immediately.

The type of man to admit he loves cuddling and won't ever be ashamed of it. He enjoys being held and if you do, especially in the middle of the night, unconsciously, that man will melt on spot.

D = Domestic

Price is old-fashioned so a domestic lifestyle is his dream. He is the type of man to move to a house near a lake when he's finally retired. Would totally build a sauna or a tree house, or even get handy and build a house by the lake.

Pretty decent at cooking, but doesn't go beyond searching for new recipes or trying new tastes. If your palette is more defined and you introduce him to the different cuisines, he'll definitely lick the plate you make. But if it's his turn to cook - expect simple English food.

The man is clean - the military forced him to become tidier. There aren't unnecessary decorations or stuff that he doesn't use in his house. It's important for him to live in a tidy environment, so his place is kept as tidy as it can be.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Price would tell you the truth. He wouldn't be the type of person to sugarcoat it or lie about wanting to end the relationship. He appreciates communication and even if he knows how much it will hurt you, he has to be truthful because he owes you that.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He would definitely propose to you quickly. If you are in a relationship for two years, three years max - he's already down on one knee. He is definitely the guy to fall in love quickly, but he doesn't trust everyone with his feelings. So if the two of you are dating for quite some time, it means he trusts you unconditionally and, why wait any longer? He gets weak from thinking about marrying you, please bear with him.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Super gentle! His touches are never rough. His worst fear would be hurting you accidentally - he would never forgive himself. His job is so violent where he has a place where to shake off his negative emotions. With you, he's bare. The loss, and the environment of his job fall down on his shoulders and he allows himself to be vulnerable.

H = Hugs

Back hugs. Back hugs. Back hugs. Back hugs. Just give him the opportunity to be behind you and he'll always wrap his hands around you. It doesn't matter if you are alone or in front of other people. He has this hidden urge to always protect you and be close, and holding you in his hug is one of the many benefits of having you near.

His guilty pleasure is emotional hugs. When he gets back from a mission, after months of not seeing you, drained emotionally and physically. But the way you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him closer, making him wrap his arms around your back, slightly squeezing you, makes him shed a few tears. Home. You feel like home.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Would want to say it sooner than he actually does. But he waits for the perfect opportunity where he knows that you are comfortable with hearing him say it. Even though in the first months of when you two started to date, he mumbled those three words in his sleep.

J = Jealousy

Price totally gets jealous as he is protective over you, but he doesn't get into an obsessive mood. Authoritivity is a huge part of him, so he knows his worth and he knows no one in their right mind would mess with a Captain's partner. However, when he's jealous because a newbie keeps eyeing you, making weird moves towards you, the newbie will be silenced quickly. Price doesn't have to say something, it's enough to catch his look. The look that will make the newbie question their place in the military training.

K = Kisses

Simple kisses with him are the best. Really enjoys pecking your lips too many times to get you all worked up and giggly. But those kisses after you two share prolonging eye contact— His lips find yours, his heart bursting into flames, the heartbeat ringing in his ears. It was odd for him to feel so in love every time he kissed you. It's as if he's falling in love over and over again and that feeling is so addictive that he kisses you again and again, and again.

If he's in a rush, he'll kiss your cheeks softly, his hand lingering on your face for a second longer before he storms out of the house.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Price is great with children. However, he's only good with children that are of his own or in his family. He might feel weird if in a playground a random child asks to pass him the ball that rolled to his feet. It also depends if he has children of his own or not. If he has - he'll be the best father to ever exist. He'll shower them with affection and protect them, trying to spend every moment with them. If he doesn't have kids but wants them, you will notice that random walks through the playgrounds in the park are getting more often.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He'll not let you get out of bed on a lazy day. Where is the rush? Not only it is hard to leave bed every morning on its own, but when he is your personal heater - it's impossible to get up early. If you'll insist on getting up - oh, you better believe that his Captain side will come out at this point. He'll order you to stay and even if you would try to disobey, something about his authoritative tone makes you fold and you have to stay. And, trust me, if you behave, he'll make your time worth it.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Not a fan of staying up late or doing something at night. He has a pretty ruined sleeping schedule, so any type of sleep is important to him. Occasional date nights or movie nights happen, but you understand better than to keep him awake. As much as he would want to be a night owl, he really is not. There are too many times he dozed off on the couch when you two were watching a movie after midnight. Please, let that man get him a well-deserved eight hours of sleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves?)

He's a closed-off person because of his job. He's in the Special Forces, and he doesn't go chit-chatting about his job left and right. Even in a relationship, he doesn't share all the details - he's not allowed to. But if we are talking about emotional things, he'll warm up to you gradually. Not the type of person to trauma dump you because he cares about your well-being as well and is afraid to scare you away. He knows that he is deeply messed up, but he acknowledges his flaws and traumas and tries to work on them the best he can. If you are a dear person to him, trust me, he'll hand you his heart over. Please cherish it.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He's not really patient. He is used to people obeying his orders and a military job means that everything has to be done fast and cleanly. He doesn't put up with teasing aura well, especially in serious moments.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you?)

Everything. Price is definitely that type of man to pull out dates in a conversation:

"Remember the place we dined on the 16th of September?"

"What?"

"2015."

"It was eight years ago, how should I—“

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you laughed at his dad's joke. Not only it slightly stroked his ego that you laughed at his horrible joke, but the sound of your laughter made him swoon. Ever since that time, when you called him unfunny, he reminded you of that time when you laughed:

"Your laughter said otherwise."

"Then you were funny. Now you're just getting old."

S = Security (How protective are they?)

The field of his job does leave him paranoid. Many horrible people might go after him and might use you to get to him. He doesn't know what he would do if you would get hurt because of him. For instance, he'd track them down and wreck them and then retire. Your security matters the most. His job is already to clean up the mess silently and to slightly make it better, but you are everything to him. He'll search the whole world just to find you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Isn’t the best at coming up with grandiose or innovative gifts, but will surprise you with flowers, sweets and little things that remind you of him. He’s far better with you just telling him straightforwardly what you want and he will get it for you.

However, he does put a lot of time and sanity into arranging a date. Ordering a table at some fancy restaurant, making sure the setting is nice, ordering flowers, getting you some new clothing for the occasion. It stresses him out, but it always ends up romantic and that’s all that matter.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Smoking. It helps him clear his mind and he really started to smoke because as soon as he joined the Army, he learned that smokers get a few more minutes of free time. He doesn’t smoke a lot, but a few cigars when he is feeling stressed calm him down just a bit.

Forgets to eat when he’s focused on his work. If there are days when he has to deal with paperwork, you better know that he forgets to eat and to drink enough.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s not self-conscious. Why should he be? His body is trained, pure muscle and gorgeous (have you seen that teeny tiny waist of his—lord…). He keeps his beard well groomed as well as any other hair on his body. It’s important for him to look presentable not only because soldiers must look well, but also because he knows he is a well-looking guy. Not in a narcissistic way, but you won’t catch him moping about his looks. But compliments are always appreciated.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He needs you like fresh air. His life is messy - one mission to another. Different locations, different settings. You are the only security in his life. The only still moment that makes him breathe easier and sleep calmer. There isn’t a day he doesn’t think that you are everything he has. Everything he has ever wanted.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

When he is absolutely exhausted, he will snore so loud. It will drive you and everyone crazy. Waking him up and making him fall asleep again will only worsen the situation.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

A really erratic person just doesn’t work with him. He needs stability. He just doesn’t click with a person that changes their opinion every second or isn’t able to express feelings. Communication and honesty are the most important things for him - he cannot stand lying and that would break his trust completely.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

If he’s with you - always holding you in his arms. It’s a must. If he’s away, there is already a collection of polaroids Soap has taken of Price sleeping while hugging a pillow.

Will talk in his sleep occasionally - some incoherent bullshit. But sometimes, you can actually ask questions and he will answer you.

“Do you— love me?”

“Mmmn, yeah…”

“Or do you love Gaz more?”

“Gaz? Yeah— Gaz…”

“JOHN!”

#sunnywrites!#call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #call of duty headcanons #call of duty #john price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #john price cod #john price #captain price #john price headcanons

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palmofafreezinghand · 2 months

Note

Aww, I miss you, lovely! I've been gone for a minute myself. Give me something sweet with Edward and Esme, or maybe Esme's pov of the Ephraim confrontation 💕

Thank you for the prompt! I miss you too, I hope you're doing well 💖

2007.

After months of chaos, dozens of strangers in her house, and the ever constant threat of death looming over her family’s head Esme was savoring the first quiet moments back in her studio. No sooner had she laid a rough underpainting when a familiar footfall made its way down the hall and eventually stopped in front of her door.

He did not knock, he never did, but instead walked into the room as if it was his own. He slumped into the loveseat — too big for the room but a requirement of him and his father — slinging his legs over the armrest.

“I’ve missed you,” Edward sighed.

She raised her brow, eyes focused on her canvas. ‘I do not believe I went anywhere.’

“I can not hear you,” he said, tapping his temple. “Bella,” he smiled like a fool whenever he said her name, “is practicing her restraint, she wanted to test blocking the voice I know the best.”

“Is that not Carlisle?” She asked, noting how the shuffling of papers downstairs halted when she mentioned his name. Nosy or besotted, she was unsure which.

“It appears I know what he is going to think before he does.”

Her eyes rolled before she could think better of it. The two were too similar for their own good.

“So I am second fiddle,” she said, attempting to feign annoyance. She knew better than to tease him, but he made it far too easy.

“Think of it as you’re the person I know better than almost anyone else in the world.”

“Mhm.”

They fell into comfortable silence. Edward began leafing through a decade old copy of Architect Digest. Esme began mixing her color palette, something light and peaceful, a slow introduction back to painting. She would not let her art get tainted by the turbulence, the fear, the anger…

“You truly can’t hear my thoughts?”

“No.”

‘You can not hear this?’

“If you are asking me if I can hear you the answer is no.”

‘How did you know what I was asking?’

“I know you, Esme,” he grinned, that knowing smile he had worn since the day they met eighty years prior.

She set down her palette and turned on her stool to look at him fully. ‘I enjoy jazz.’ His face did not change. She narrowed her eyes. ‘I think that sleeveless shirt you wear is ridiculous.’ Nothing. ‘Carlisle and I were the ones who broke your baby grand in 1948, we let Emmett take the blame.’ That clinched it. This revelation would have caused a civil war in their house, and yet nothing. Besides a slightly amused smile.

“You can’t hear me,” she breathed.

“You are too stubborn for your own good.”

She scoffed, he beamed. “I am the stubborn one!”

“Your husband is close behind.”

“This is rich,” she laughed to herself.

It was an odd feeling, being completely alone in her own brain while he was sitting across from her. The only time her brain had ever belonged to her alone were years she wished to never relive. She could think of anything at all.

The latest bodice ripper she was reading.

Their fight of 1927.

The whispered sweet nothings Carlisle said in the privacy of their bedroom. Or his office. Or most recently the garden shed.

“Please, stop thinking of Carlisle in the nude,” Edward groaned lightheartedly.

“You said you couldn’t hear me!”

“I can see your face,” he grimaced.

“You are such a prude for a man who’s had a child,” she laughed, unable to deny his accusation.

She returned her attention back to her paints, letting her thoughts roam, now with a few restrictions.

“That’s the first time you’ve called me a man,” Edward said quietly after a minute or two.

“No it isn’t.” The palette knife cut a dollop of prussian blue, then crimson, mixing the two in a pool of titanium white, mix.

“Yes,” he nodded, “it is.”

The three colors were now a well blended lavender. “I… it is not the… I feel as if… I must have thought it before…if not…”

As she tried to formulate her thoughts, it dawned on her that in eighty six years she had never had to tell him how she felt, about anything. He had always known, was constantly piecing together her thoughts before she did. How was the first time she was expected to verbalize her feelings now? Was she supposed to tell him how much fatherhood had changed him, had fundamentally changed their relationship, how she could never view him as she once did?

Crimson, cadmium yellow slapped onto the palette with a smidgen too much force, six parts titanium white.

“I know, Esme. We don’t have to do this, I know.”

‘Thank you,’ she thought. She knew he couldn’t hear her. Yet something by the way he smiled and nodded, turning his attention back to the article he had read dozens of times before, told her maybe he just knew.

#edward cullen #esme cullen #my stories #thank you for the prompt sorry this isn't pure sweetness but every time i tried to write just them this conversation kept bugging me

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infranuz · 1 year

Note

Hii can I get a Chishiya x reader where the reader is an artist? It can be in whatever format u like, I don't really mind. Please and thank u!

“ A PAINTING FOR YOU!! ” — chishiya x artist!reader

where chishiyas s/o is an artist who likes to take painting commissions, except this time valentine’s day is getting closer and they want to make a special gift just for chishiya.

— HIHI!! TYSM FOR REQUESTING,, I had this idea to add on to the request hopefully you don’t mind<3 but I hope it is to your liking!! ,, ps there’s most likely spelling and grammar mistakes so anything I missed, feel free to correct me 💕 also so sorry for writing this 4 days after valentines😭 ,, also,, mentions of wife and husband..

it was currently 10 pm, saturday february 11. three full days before valentine’s day, yet you were still busy finishing up your commissions instead of planning something special for your boyfriend. the thought of making something for him this year crossed your mind as you were scrolling through Instagram looking through your feed. it wasn’t a bad idea at all actually. surely chishiya would appreciate a gift.

you were a painter who made portraits and other paintings for people, chishiya admired this. he always wondered how you were so patient yet fast when handling your art. truly a unique talent, even for him to admit. you had actually tried to teach chishiya how to sketch and make a good painting, the basics. not once did it work out. he may be a fast learner but sticking to the med field instead of art would be better.

still, you always kept his painting attempts most of the time. point is, valentine’s day was approaching rather quickly and this year you wanted to use your talent to good use. it had to be something meaningful yet pretty, something he would love to admire. this was your second year as a couple celebrating the 14th together. you had thought of other things to possibly gift the half blond but chishiya was never the materialistic type so choosing something for him was rather difficult.

so that’s when the idea of a painting came in, i mean you could easily finish a canvas in three days, right? the moment you realized what you wanted to do you got up from your bed and immediately started to sketch out your idea. you only had three days to finish the painting, thank god chishiya didnt live with you, otherwise the gift would’ve been a big fail right from the start.

after about an hour of narrowing down your ideas, you went for the safer option, your favorite date spot. it was more of a rough sketch idea since you weren’t fully sure when you first started, finishing the sketch would probably take all night but you were willing to take that risk. of course you would be closing and pausing your commissions just until the 15th so you could focus on the main thing.

obviously the colors would be a pain to find so mixing and combining the ones you had at home were the safer option. greys, whites, some really pigmented and bright ones others pretty dark.. yet it was a good palette. it all looked good together when you tested it on a small scaled canvas. it was now 7 am, frebruary 12th, took all night to finish, but at least the picture itself was done.. good news!!

although the bad news on the other hand,, chishiya would be arriving at your doorstep any moment now. he would always make sure to see you before a shift of his at the hospital, which was quite early. you had to put a cover over the canvas and securely lock your art room beforehand. it was screaming suspicion but who cares, not like you killed anyone. though the idea of chishiya finding out his gift wasn’t pleasant so before he arrived you tried to look natural which wouldn’t be easy with the evident dark circles under your eyes that made it obvious you hadn’t slept an inch.

right after you walked back to the kitchen the sound of keys trying to unlock the door were heard. normally you would be happy yet sleepy of his presence right before going to work. this time you were nervous and still sleepy, he figures things out way too quickly specially when you act suspicious, he can read a person too well. you heard him go upstairs, thankfully not where your art room is at. confused you waited for him to come back downstairs, “there you are, I thought you were still be in bed” chishiya made his way to the counter. on sundays you stayed in bed until he arrived and woke you up to eat breakfast.

“I woke up a tad bit earlier today” you turned to him with two mugs filled with hot water. “morning chishi” you smiled at him trying to shake off the nervousness. he looked up at you and his eyes immediately landed on the dark circles right beneath yours. “did you not sleep well?” he frowned. “ah, this? I was finishing up some commissions last night that I completely forgot to sleep haha..” he raised a brow at you with clear confusion, but questioned no further.

to anyone, you staying up finishing any art project of yours would be normal, to him it’s was very,, weird. chishiya knew you all too well, you would never and when I say never it’s because clearly, never have you stayed all up all night trying to finish a canvas. still he didn’t mention a single word of this, “you should’ve told me, you could be sleeping right now instead of having breakfast with me” it was your time to frown, “but I wouldn’t have seen you today, anyway it doesn’t bother me I purely run on coffee” you said proudly.

“you’re stupid” he sighted, though truth is he was glad he got to see you before work, long hours at the hospital were exhausting specially when he didn’t get to see you all day. he would never admit to that though. “make sure to sleep after, it’s not healthy not getting any sleep, you could get sick” there he goes again scolding you about your health, it’s almost as if he was your husband and you his wife. “i know, i know, don’t worry i will” you weren’t..

he left soon after you packed his lunch, which was rather silly. everytime you thought about it, it would be almost as if you were a married couple. with a quick kiss and hug he exited your house and walked to his destination.

right after he left you grabbed your keys and unlocked your art room again ready to continue. he would scold you later when he finds out you went straight to your project rather than sleeping. but that would be a worry for later. sadly he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow when he finished his shift.. at least it would give you more time to work rather than having to hide your painting.

at some point you decided to stop and actually take a small nap, anyway you were half done and it was 1 am, february 13th. once again you put a cover over the canvas and locked the door before walking up to your room and finally sleeping. yet that didn’t exactly do much for your eye bags.

“you didn’t sleep again?” he sounded tired and sleepy the very next morning he arrived from the hospital “you haven’t slept either chishi” whenever he arrived at your doorstep tired from his long hour shifts you would grow worried for his health. “let’s get you to bed” you grabbed his hand as he followed. it was a pretty normal routine by now. he would sleep at your house while you either stayed right beside him or went out to buy groceries. this time you would have to go back down and finally finish the project. which was very risky considering he was there.

he immediately knocked out after he felt himself laying down, you giggled at his sight as you went back downstairs. you made sure to lock your art room before starting so he wouldn’t accidentally walk in on you making his gift. after many hours later the painting was finally done and you could get a good rest right next to your boyfriend.

finally the 14th of february arrived, you were excited to show him his present that you worked hard on. hoping that he would like it even more, you took him to the exact same spot that was painted into the canvas. a picnic date to be exact. you were both clearly still in need of sleep but that business would be for later after your date.

he had a bag and some flowers in hand when he arrived, he was wearing the white hoodie you got him last year with a white shirt underneath and sweatpants.. typical of him. the canvas was right beside the basket of food you brought but that would be opened after you were done eating.

some small typical talk later you both finished your food “thankfully you had today off, you seriously needed a break” you were picking up and trashing the items you no longer used. now, it was the time for gifts , much to his dismay. chishiya was never good with words so he always just handed you your gift straightforward “here” he grabbed the bag by his side and gave it to you. it was a necklace with both of your initials although the s stood out more.

you let out a grin “thank you shuntaro”, surprisingly he didn’t buy you a ring, (he was about to).. actually even more surprising, he got you jewelry. you asked him to clip the necklace from behind your neck. it was a pretty necklace needless to say. he also handed you a letter but he advised you to open it later when he wasn’t in your presence anymore.

now it was your turn to give him his gift. you let out a deep breath and grabbed the boxed canvas behind you. “i wanted to gift you something special this year, so hopefully you like this” you hand him the painting.

he slowly unwraps the tie and opens the box, for a second you see his eyes widen as he stares at the content inside, slowly they soften and he smirks “so this is what you were hiding” you look up at him shocked “YOU KNEW?!?” you couldn’t believe such a moment was ruined by him telling you he already knew.

“it was pretty obvious dumbass” you sighted in defeat “at least you didn’t know what the painting contained..” you smiled softly “do you like it?” you looked up at him, his eyes to be exact. he only hums and smiles at your words, you feel all the nervousness lift from your shoulders.

you launched yourself at him with joy as he falls back on the grass. his hands travel to your waist as he hugs you. truth to be told you loved these moments were chishiya showed just how much he actually enjoys being with you without him having to actually say it.

your hands land on both of his cheeks, a small kiss to his forehead. “i’m glad you liked it, let’s have more years together okay?” you smile at him. chishiya could only chuckle at your words yet agree, he looked forward to spending many more years to come with you and truly, only you.

#asalamis #aib chishiya #chishiya x fem!reader #chishiya x reader #chishiya fluff #chishiya imagine

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