#these costumes are beyond beautiful
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※ G L O W I N G W E S ※
#ain't he beautiful under that bioluminescent-like glow of the black light?#his facial expressions are so captivating#Wes has always been a trifecta for performing from his talent on the guitar to his fun costumes to the way he sells it all with his face#Wes is beyond a great musician. He's a phenomenal performer.#Wes Borland#Limp Bizkit#nu metal#Black Light Burns#down the rabbit hole
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Danny was pissed. He was chilling in the Speedforce, waiting on his dad—the Flash—to show up when he felt something shift around him. He exited the speedforce to find that the timeline had changed again, and he had been written out of the timeline. He technically was a time anomaly now, and didn’t exist. So he talked to Clockwork, a ghost he’d gotten to know extremely well after Danny’s creation.
Danny was a clone of the Flash and Green Lantern(Hal Jordan) as part of an experiment that Lex Luthor had taken prior to cloning Superboy. Lex had wanted to know if the power ring was able to transmit anything genetically (it couldn’t. It was a wearable weapon, not a genetic thing.) but Danny had inherited Flash’s superspeed, so he wasn’t a complete loss. Danny wasn’t sure if he looked more like either man, considering they both wore masks. He had brown hair and green eyes. Beyond that, he tanned well, was tall for his age, and packed on muscle far easier than the Flash did. He hadn’t ever seen either man out of the costume.
After a talk with Clockwork, he decided he was just going to force his way back into his Dad’s life. Both of them, if possible. He arrived years before his creation by mistake, right near the start of the Justice League. By his estimates, the team had only been formed for a year before he’d arrived. It was strange; he both didn’t exist and was from the future. He guessed that it was around nine years before his birth, and since he was technically six months old, he was 9 years in the past. Thinking about this was going to give him a headache.
The Justice League was severely mistrustful of each other. They didn’t go out of their way for teamups, didn’t have weekly meetings, and almost pretended if the other members didn’t exist. The most recluse of them was Batman, of course. If any hero set foot in Gotham, they were booted out before they even got to downtown. Danny highly suspected Batman had the entire city on camera. The situation was weirding him out more than before. What had happened to the team?! He was used to everyone being one big family, and even the sidekicks having their own teams… speaking of sidekicks, why was Robin so small?! Wait a minute, that wasn’t the third Robin that he was used to, that was the first Robin! Baby Nightwing!
Thankfully for him, he still had his costume on this entire time as he zipped around the country, spying on the younger members of the Justice League. It was surreal watching everyone try to capture him, but he wasn’t going to be caught that easily!
Eventually his presence forced the Justice League into another teamup. Batman laid the trap out, and Flash lured him into it. The plan was so beautiful that he didn’t even realize it was a trap until he was caught in it. Green Lantern took off Danny’s mask, and for the first time, he looked at his fathers without a mask. They didn’t make the connection to him right away. It wasn’t until Wonder Woman’s lasso made its way around his wrist that the truth finally came out.
“Who are you?” Wonder Woman asked.
“Oof , hard question—ow ow oww—I’m being honest!” He struggled against the lasso as it started to burn him. “My designation was Dn-y, I go by Danny, though. I’m a clone.”
“Of who?” Batman demanded.
“Flash and Green Lantern.” The lasso was glowing brightly, indicating that he was telling the truth.
“How did you escape?” Flash asked.
He didn’t answer right away. He was trying to think about how to phrase the whole time traveling—timeline erasure thing when the lasso started to burn him again. “Ow ow! Sorry, I’m thinking! Ow! Turn down the settings on that thing, holy shit—okay, okay.” He winced, his words coming out in one breath as he quickly talked, “What do you know about time travel?”
Diana’s eyebrows were rising. “How are you able to resist the lasso for so long?”
“I’m not really resisting it.” He answered, noting the obvious deflect of his last question, “I just-oww—okay! My mind moves too fast for me to put into words sometimes and it makes me stop to think about it, but like, I’m not good at controlling the speed in which I speak all the time—owww make this thing stop burning me! I’m speaking honestly!”
Diana revoked the lasso, and he rubbed his wrist where his costume was starting to singe. He was still trapped in an anti-speedster prison, so it wasn’t exactly like he was going anywhere anyway.
“Why were you asking about time travel?” Batman asked.
“Based on the crickets chirping I heard earlier, that leads me to believe you guys haven’t had any experience in it yet.” He leaned against the wall of the prison, wincing as it shocked him with electricity. “Seriously? How paranoid are you, Batman?” He rubbed his shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t know what I was expecting with you people, but I feel so attacked right now.”
“So we have experience with it in the future?” Superman piped up.
“Yeah?” His tone of voice equated to a ‘duh’ tone. “Why would I ask what you knew if I wasn’t from the future?”
“How far in the future are you from?” Green Lantern asked.
“Nine years, maybe close to ten? Timelines are weird. I’m technically six months old, but at the same time I’m sixteen. Cloning is odd, but I was like, the first clone ever, so I don’t really have a basis for this sort of thing, if you catch my drift.” He shrugged. He seemed like he talked a lot more than the heroes did, but he didn’t know if that was because he was a chatterbox, or because they weren’t comfortable in each other’s presence. Either way, the silence was odd to him.
“How did you end up here?” Batman asked.
“Honestly? I don’t fully know. Don’t give me that look, Diana! I’m telling the truth.” He added quickly as Diana fingered her lasso again. “All I know is one minute, I’m chilling in the Speedforce, and the next, the timeline is changed and I’m nine years too early for my birth. You’d think the timeline would at least have the decency to spit me out in my own year, but nooo, it wanted to—“
“What’s the Speedforce?” Superman interrupted.
He tilted his head at Superman’s question, then turned to the Flash. “How long have you had your powers?”
Flash shifted uncomfortably. “Two years.”
“Oh boy.” Danny’s green eyes widened. “You don’t know anything about them, do you?”
“I do know things!” Flash deflected, “My suit doesn’t catch on fire anymore! I can run up to Mach 2! I can get from either end of the country in thirty minutes!”
He groaned loudly. “Oh no. Oh no.” He chewed on his thumb, trying to recall everything he’d learned about his powers from his Flash. While he hadn’t learned his or Green Lantern’s identity yet, he knew almost everything about their hero personas and a lot of personal information. They were just worried of the Cadmus connection and didn’t want their identity to fall into the wrong hands if they still could see inside of Danny’s head.
“What’s wrong?” Diana asked.
“Okay.” He ran his hands through his brown hair, making it spike up. “Hypothetically—“ he cut himself off as Batman glared at him. “Okay, totally real, but uh, Flash, let’s just say that I’m faster than you right now. A lot faster.”
“How much?” Flash took a step forward, obviously curious.
“From what we can tell, I’ve topped out at Mach nine.” He responded with a dry laugh, “But your speed was still a lot faster than mine. You’d never tell me what it was. I’m still growing though, and I’m getting faster. I’m able to beat my precious time by almost double each time we test. But my situation was complicated, and things were happening, and it was a mess.”
“Like what?” Superman asked.
“World war three. I think?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that he had picked up from Green Lantern, “Things got complicated. That’s why I was going to wait for…” his eyebrows scrunched together as the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “It was you!” He turned to Flash. “You!” He jabbed a finger at the speedster. “You set this up! You set ME up!”
The heroes took fighting stances, but Superman took a step forward, blocking them from Danny. “What are you talking about?”
“Okay okay.” He was trying to calm down his anger, but he had been told by Green Lantern in the past that he had inherited the man’s anger issues. “Let me start at the beginning. This is going to be a long story, you might want to take a seat.”
Nobody moved, but everyone was tense.
“Or not. Okay. So my creation starts with Lex Luthor.” He noticed Superman stiffen. “He used me as his trial, if you will. Once he got a successful attempt at cloning—me—he moved onto his real target. Cloning Superman.” Danny’s green eyes hovered onto Superman’s blue ones. “He was successful.”
“What happened?” Superman’s voice was unnaturally quiet.
“Well, at first, Conner wasn’t showing that he had all the powers of Superman. So Lex tossed him aside and tried again. The second attempt was more successful than the first. But cloning Kryptonian dna was hard, I guess.” He shrugged. “The second clone lacked basic emotions. Empathy, remorse… it made him the perfect little weapon for Lex. But eventually, the clone’s anger and Lex’s greed got to a point of no return. Lex was elected President of the United States and uh…you can probably see where this is going, right? While the fighting hadn’t like…’officially’ started,” He used his fingers to create air quotes around the word ‘officially’, “Things were getting tense. See, we couldn’t take the clone down because Lex had wrote out the Kryptonite deficiency out of his weakness. And the clone had all the strength of Superman and none of his remorse…”
Superman looked pale. “I see.”
“So Flash and I came up with a plan.” He turned back to his father, “We were going to travel into the next dimension for help. From what we could tell, that dimension was full of god-like beings, and one of them actually helped me out earlier! But for a lot of them, they ask for a price for their help. But anyway, Flash and I were going to take our case to the King and plead for help. I was waiting for Flash when the timeline reset and I found out that not only did I not exist, but I was nine years too early.”
“What are you going to do now?” Green Lantern asked.
“Dunno,” His voice dropped as the reality hit him. He wasn’t going home—his home didn’t exist anymore.
#dp x dc au#dp x dc writing prompt#dp x dc#dp x dc fanfic#dp x dc prompt#dp dc crossover#danny phantom crossover#dp x dc crossover#danny phantom#dp crossover#dpxdc prompts#dpxdc#dcxdp#Danny is a clone#green lantern#the flash#time travel#speed force
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Laois SFW/NSFW HCs
!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!
A/N: I haven’t read the whole manga or watched all the episodes… so please have mercy on me if he’s not entirely in character!
warnings: oral(both receiving), cockwarming, roleplay, breeding, foodplay, nipple play
SFW
-Laois is quite the devoted lover, worshipping the ground you walk on.
-he can be a but clingy and overbearing, wanting to know everything about you and be there with you at all times. You’re his first and only love, it’s a new experience for him!
-he’s not shy at all when it comes to PDA, happily covering your face in kisses and following you around like a lost puppy.
-again, he’s super clingy. He adores being curled up with you after a good meal, and sleeps next to you every night. He loves to carry you on his back when you’re tired, taking off his armor to make it more comfy for you.
-Laois can’t help but stare at you for prolonged period of time. You’re so fascinating to him, almost as intriguing as the monsters he adores. He knows everything about you, doodling you in his journal every chance he gets.
-when you’re upset or sad, he’s upset or sad. He’ll listen to you complain and get angry on your behalf while petting your head. He WILL hold grudges if someone hurts you.
-his first priority during a battle is keeping you(ans Falin) safe. You are his darling, he couldn’t stand to see you get hurt. Even the smallest of injuries has him anxious, ready to pull you into his arms and feed you snacks while you get healed by Marcille.
-he just melts every time you give him any kind of attention or affection. Listening to him infodump about monsters and feeding him are the two ways to his heart.
-his adores feeding you, and will lick away any food on your face or lips.
-before he met you, he had never been in love before, but now that he has you his heart has never been the same. You make him whole, making him want things he never thought he would.
NSFW
-he’s a huge virgin with a big, fat cock he has no idea what to do with.
-you’re so pretty, and your hands feel so nice rubbing against his bulge that he can hardly breathe.
-you’re his first kiss, and feeling your tongue touch his instantly makes him hard. He ends up cumming in his pants from only a few sloppy kisses, looking all shy and embarrassed when he moans and whines.
-he’s a switch, a bit on the subby side due to his inexperience. He’ll let you boss him around, just wanting to please you and make you happy. You’re his beautiful girlfriend, he will absolutely listen to whatever you tell him to do!
-he quickly learns he’s obsessed with your pussy. The first taste he gets of your cunt gets him craving more. It doesn’t take long for him to get pussy drunk, looking up at you with hazy eyes as his tongue slips in and out of your pretty, right hole.
-when the two of you have sex for the first time, he’s beyond nervous, and ends up cumming on your pussy before he’s even able to push inside of you. It’s so embarrassing, but you find it hot that he got so excited he couldn’t help but spill his load on you.
-he’s got an average sized cock, about 6ish inches, but he’s GIRTHY! His fat cock stretches you out easily, and he starts to panic when you yelp as he buries himself in your pretty pussy. You quickly reassure him that everything is okay, and he’s happy to move his hips and fuck into you.
-Laois is definitely into roleplay and costumes. Dressing up as a monster will get him so hard that it’ll be hard for him to keep himself from cumming.
-Foodplay is definitely on the table. He likes watching you eat and enjoy food, and also likes when you’re covered in something sweet that he can lick off of you.
-He is okay with cumming inside, outside, on you, honestly he’s just happy he gets to fuck you. Anything you want is yours, so if you want him to creampie you and give you a baby, he’ll do it.
-sucking his cock will make him melt into a puddle. He prefers going down on you, but he will admit seeing your cute face look up at him with his cock in your mouth gets him cumming within seconds.
-his nipples are pink, and REALLY sensitive… he makes the prettiest noises when you rub and play with them.
-honestly cockwarming makes him feel so warm and happy. Your pussy drooling while he plays with your clit, clenching around his cock is just… heaven.
#laois x reader#laois smut#dungeon meshi laios#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#delicious in dungeon smut#requests open#x reader#anime x reader#reader insert#headcanon#smut requests#anime x chubby reader#chubby!reader#chubby reader#fem!reader#fem reader#female reader#smut headcanons#headcanons#HCs#laois touden#x reader smut#smut fic#smut fanfiction
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Dear Hearts and Gentle People 4
Summary: After their reunion at the Atomic Wrangler, Cooper decides that he wants more than just a quickie out of his wandering trader.
Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader
Warnings. Drug use and Alcohol. Fluff and Smut. Little longer than the other ones ❤️
DHGP Masterlist
Cooper sits on the side of the bed, inhaler in hand as he stares down at the chem. You are still asleep behind him, body tangled in the sheets, exhausted after the exciting reunion between the two of you. You had been a breath of fresh air for the ghoul, especially after finding out the truth behind the fate of his family, and then Lucy, the vaultie, had left him too. Gone back home to her vault to save them from those goddamn Bud's Buds.
Cooper had elected to stay in Vegas. He likes the city, and the booze was cheap, and the chems were even cheaper if you knew where to get them. However, now that the ghoul was borderline sober, and with you by his side, Cooper realized that he'd had something to look forward to. To live for again. You.
Every time the two of you had crossed paths, you never failed to send the ghoul's black heart racing. You were a wastelander through and through, but you were good, and Cooper didn't want to let that go. No. He would hold on tight, and nothing in heaven or hell would get him to let you go.
First thing first, however, was to show you that he was serious and that he cared for you beyond a quick fuck and drug transactions. Cooper turned in the bed and leaned over you, tucking his knuckle under your chin and kissing you until you woke up. A soft sigh escaped you when the ghoul pulled away, and you opened your eyes to see him above you.
"Well, that's one way to wake a girl up," you murmur, and shift to your back, opening your arms so that Cooper can fall against your chest, his face pressed in the crook of your neck. You hum softly and press a kiss to his bald head, "What's got you in such a good mood?"
Cooper buries himself against you, shoving his arms under you so that he can hold you close. He listens to your heartbeat, and the sound of content he makes sounds more like a cat purr than anything else. He debates with himself before deciding to hell with it.
"Let me take you out. On a proper date," He began, and the more he spoke, the more he felt like his old self, Cooper Howard, before the end of the world, "You deserve it after everything you've done for me."
You eyed him, though your lips were already turning up at the idea. Who knew your ghoul was such a romantic? You tilt your head to the side, "Oh? And what did you have in mind?"
Cooper rises to his elbow and admires how your hair halos around your face. You are beautiful, even sleepy-eyed, and dressed in nothing but your panties.
"We're in Vegas, Baby. Let's make the most of it."
~~~~~
Mick and Ralph's had a surprising number of preserved prewar clothing, and you picked through the dresses looking for the perfect fit. You spotted a cute, blue number that would hug you in all the right places and billow out at the waist. Mick even had a cute pair of kitten heels that he gave you on the house.
Cooper had also done some digging around and conveniently found one of his old set costumes. The colors were faded, but they looked brand new compared to the get-up he always wore. Dressed to impress, the ghoul admired himself in the cracked mirror. If you ignored the obvious, Cooper looked like he'd just come off set of A Man and His Dog.
He wold whistles when you step out of the back room, and even though you're custom to his flirty behavior, you still blush bright and give Cooper a tiny grin. You've never had an opportunity to wear something so nice before, and it made you feel different, but not in a bad way.
"Well, look at you, Darlin'. All dressed up and beautiful for little ol' me," He crooned and snagged your hand, spinning you in a slow circle so that he could admire you from all angles. You give him a smile so full of fond amusement that Cooper’s heart stutters in his chest.
"Only for you, Cowpoke," you say and curl your hand behind his head to tug him down for a quick kiss that Cooper melts into.
After paying Mick and Ralph, Cooper escorts you to the gate of the Strip where the securitrons let the two of you by after flashing the passports you'd paid the shop owners for. Inside, the flashing neon lights made you squint, and you did your best to take it all in at once.
"A lot's changed since the last time I've been here," Cooper comments and casts his gaze around. It's been over two hundred years, but the Vegas Strip still felt the same. The two of you bypass Gomorrah and the Ultra Lux, and instead, head for the Tops where a man with blonde, slicked-back hair greets them with a suave grin.
"Hey, hey cats. My name is Swank. Welcome to the Tops Casino. The floor is open, and Tommy's got some real class acts tonight on stage if you're interested."
The two of you hand over any weapons that couldn't be concealed and head upstairs to the theater. A live band is playing on stage, and a place has been cleared in the middle of the room for dancing. Cooper leads you to a corner booth and drops to kiss your brow before he lopes off to order you both a drink.
From there, the night goes off without a hitch. The two of you drink til you feel tipsy and brazen enough to tug the ghoul out to the dance floor where Cooper upstages you and everyone else there. He twirls and dips you, leaving you a giggling mess and eyes only for him.
At some point, Cooper gets the grand idea to spend some caps on some chips, and you stand beside him as he cleans the blackjack table, coming away with more chips that you have to help him carry back to the exchange desk. The two of you eventually stumble out of the Tops and mosied back down the road to Gomorrah.
Their weapons are confiscated once more, and Cooper pays the receptionist for a hotel room for later on. He doubted that they would be sober enough to leave this place later on.
His hunch was right hours later when the two of you stumbled to the elevator. Coop's arm is tight around your waist, holding you close to keep you from tipping over. You cling to him, giggling as you wind your arms around his neck, and he catches your eyes, glassy from the jet that one of the dancers had given you.
"Your eyes are so pretty, ya know that?" You slur, and Cooper snickers as he leads you out of the elevator and down the hall to the room he'd rented. He's not nearly as gone as you, but he chalks that up to being used to the substance abuse.
You plop on the bed and reach back for the zipper of your dress, feeling too constricted in the blue fabric, and get stuck with it halfway off. Cooper laughs at you and comes to help, tugging the dress away and tossing it behind him before he pounces.
His lips meet yours in a slow kiss, a gentle give and take that turns heated when you bite his lip hard enough to hurt. You sooth it with your tongue, and groan when Cooper curls his own around the slippery muscle, the kiss wet and sloppy. He looms over you, keeping himself propped up with his elbow, while his other hand grips your waist, and rocks his hips down.
Cooper groans into the kiss when his clothed cock meets the heat between your thighs. You buck against him, whining into the kiss and demanding he take his damn pants off already.
"Patience, young grasshopper," Cooper rumbles above you and slides off the bed to button his shirt and jeans. He folds them almost reverently before he turns back to the bed and crawls on top of you, "Great things come to those who wait."
You scoff at him, though your lips are tilted up in amusement, "I've been waiting forever, Coop."
Your legs fall open and wrap around his waist. You are so wet that the ghoul can see slick glistening in the low light of the room where it clings to your puffy folds. He swallows harshly when you reach down and spread them, giving him an excellent view of your clit and twitching hole.
"Now I want you to fuck me like you mean it."
Cooper doesn't need to be told twice and spits in his hand before wrapping it around his cock and stroking himself twice before he lines up and sinks down to his balls. Your cunt throbs around him, pulling him impossibly closer, and he falls forward, hips humping forward as you cling to him.
Coop fucks you like it's his last day on Earth. He shifts to his knees, and his cock slips even further, pressing against something inside you that makes stars shatter. You curse loudly, Cooper’s name falling from your lips like a mantra as he hooks your legs over his shoulders and bends you over. The new position makes it hard to breathe, but all you want is more.
"'M close," Cooper grunts in your ear, and you lock your knees around his head, meeting him thrust for thrust as you work for your release. He unlocks his jaw and bites into the hollow of your throat. The pain is enough to send you over the edge, your pussy fluttering and gushing around the ghoul's cock.
"Ah-fuck," He snarls and follows you right over the edge, pumping you full of seed until it dribbled out from your stuffed cunt. He finds your lips kissing you as he rides out his orgasm, hips jerking when you tighten around him.
Cooper lays there, breathing you in and curling his arms tight around your waist. He is far too tired to move, and you don't seem to mind the extra weight with how tightly you hold him back. The ghoul feels at peace as if a part of his life he'd been missing has slotted back into place. He raises his head just enough to catch your eyes, and you reward him with an adoration-filled smile, but it's your words that cause his heart to explode like an atomic bomb.
"I love you."
You don't expect Cooper to pull you in for another kiss, this one soft and slow. He rests his brow against yours and wonders how he ever made it this far without you.
"I love you, too."
Holy moly, that got way sweeter than I intended. I hope you enjoyed it!❤️
#cooper howard#fallout#fallout prime#fallout tv series#x reader#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#dear hears and gentle people#fallout x reader
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I am so so so so so TIRED to see people fatshaming two perfectly healthy girls because they have round faces. It’s disgusting.
The actresses of Mai and Azula are on point for their roles. Hell, if they were chosen there must be a reason, it’s not like there’s no Asian actresses out there they could choose from.
People can’t accept that Azula can have a characterization beyond “crazy and sadist sicko”. She’s a perfectionist. She’s an asset to her father. She’s jealous of Zuko’s birthright and of how it might take what she has away. Those are things that OG Azula too had. The only difference is that we actually see it in season one and have a background on her, rather than writing it in a rant. And what has been added only makes her a more complex character, given the change in the family dynamic as well.
And Mai? The actress is talented, she delivers a good Mai, and does justice to the character. She’s 17 and at the beginning of her career, of course it won’t be perfect. She gets to grow. Thing is, you guys won’t let her, because a square jaw scares you so flipping bad that you feel the need to shame her for it.
Everyone is a body positivity advocate until a girl with a rounder face shape is cast as a character in a live action you are NOT forced to watch? Seriously?
I’ve seen so many people on the internet calling them all sort of names, fatshaming them, insulting their work without even focusing on the acting. And I’m like, what’s to fatshame there? Let me tell you: nothing.
If I have to put it through your thick head like this, so be it. Even though I hate talking about and comparing bodies.
This below is a picture of Azula’s actress.
She has the face card, she has the jawline, and she has a fit, enviable body. And you still have the audacity to “fat-shame” her?
These two pictures are in costume. Again, face card and an enviable body. She even has the expression for Azula. You see a girl with a rounder shape of face and will automatically go “no she’s too cute to be Azula!!” Dude. No. When she will actually deliver as the crazy girl we know, she will devour. She will, and you all will switch back because that’s what you are, slimy switchers.
And now, onto Mai’s actress, a very beautiful girl with talent and looks. She is literally so pretty, and you dare hate on her? You dare shame her for how she looks? From what I’ve heard she’s a minor, too, so this makes you 100000% more slimy and undeserving of any sympathy in my book.
This is her, this is the girl.
She’s literally so pretty. Maybe she hasn’t got the same facial structure of Mai, but she delivered all her lines she had in the little screen time and with the discutibile scenes she was given. She was good. But you see a square jaw, a rounder shape of face, and are immediately triggered.
And you can’t even use the stupid argument of “she’s fat”, because this is literally her.
A very normal, very healthy young woman. Not as skinny as OG Mai? So what? She’s still a fricking thin girl. Nowhere as “fat” as you haters make her to be.
I shouldn’t have to explain common sense and basic decency to grown adults, and yet here we are.
This is honestly so frustrating. In the year of 2024 you can’t possibly justify insulting girls like this, with no shame. It’s absolutely idiotic and shows very a big lack of brain cells. I see you, haters, behind your device, with your insecurities and shame for yourself, laughing at two girls who made it farther than you ever will. You can critique the acting once you’ve seen it in full potential. Until then, shut your tramp up. This is very small dick energy of you.
I don’t see why I should treat you with kindness when you are so eager to make this kind of jokes about pretty and in shape girls you are very obviously jealous of. Go touch some grass, incels.
#I hope anyone who sees this copies the link and sends it to whatever bitch-ass they see commenting this crap#Mai#ATLA mai#Azula#ATLA Azula#lizzy yu#Thalia Tran#NATLA#ATLA#avatar the last airbender netflix#netflix avatar the last airbender#netflix avatar#avatar the legend of aang#avatar the last airbender#body positivity#rant#Ross rants
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yard work - chapter 14 (regina george x reader)
fandom:
Mean Girls (all media)
pairing:
Regina George x OFC/Reader
summary:
You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.
chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 13 / chapter 15
You told Mrs George (or was it Ms George now? Too soon?) that you'd drive yourself to the school. Under no circumstance did you want to sit in close quarters to Regina. Besides, you knew she'd have to be there significantly earlier because she was performing. If the thought of being near Regina made you uncomfortable, that of being in that building made your skin crawl.
Why you were even bothering to go was beyond you. You'd been made into a laughing stock, a subject for people to talk about and twist around for the rest of the break. There was no PR response you could concoct to fix this, because for one, there was no time, and secondly nobody would want to hear it.
Maybe this wouldn't ruin your entire fucking life. Maybe you'd get over it eventually. Maybe it would all turn out fine. But it didn't feel like that. You could understand Regina more now, could see more clearly what she'd been talking about when she went on that rant.
Thinking all your problems would dissolve once you were old enough was stupid. That could only be applied to something vain, like pimples and pit stains and body odour. But issues like Regina's, utter self-hatred weaponized against society and everybody around her, and yours, chronic doormat syndrome with a side of people pleaser, could not just resolve. One could not pray the gay away, could not sweep it all under the rug.
You looked at the chicken sandwich in your hand. Mrs George had made some for lunch earlier and you'd swung by after the grocery trip to get you one. Then, she'd driven back to yours, helped you pack it all away, and made a weekly meal plan with you while you ate. It'd been nice. And the chicken sandwich was divine.
Your tummy was already full, but you didn't want to stop eating. You almost never got to really stuff yourself. The feeling of it was luxurious, though painful.
You put off going for as long as you could. You left at just the last minute, cutting it dangerously close. Didn't bother changing your clothes or anything. A hoodie and jeans, your usual jacket and scarf. By the time you arrived on the scene, the parking lot was pretty much deserted. You hustled to the gym where the thing was set up and easily found Mrs George and Kylie.
"C'mon, it's- it's- it's almost starting!" Kylie hissed at you, patting the seat next to her.
"Okay okay!" You whisper shouted back, mustering a little excitement for the little girl's sake.
Most of the performances were utterly dull. To be fair, the talent show was also an opportunity to get extra credit for some classes. Several people from your Spanish class took the stage. There was poetry and a couple songs, all mediocre at best. A pair performed a salsa number, which was surprising on two accounts. One, they were both dudes and two, they were good.
After Damien's dramatic rendition of Christina Aguilera's Beautiful, it was time for The Plastics to take the stage. Karen, Gretchen, and Cady were slowly revealed by the curtain. Cady stood front and centre, Gretchen to her left and Karen to the right.
Unlike many of the other dance performances of the night, the highlight was certainly not the choreography. The wow factor was hinged on the simple fact that it was them, specifically these girls, in latex, borderline slutty Santa costumes doing a provocative dance. The audience was not thrilled, the adults' reactions ranging from mildly uncomfortable to downright scandalized, while the other high schoolers looked on in either lust or disappointment that the act was missing the thing that had made it interesting in the first place.
Regina George had been the main attraction. Without her, without her effortless stage presence making the dance seem interesting, it was actually pretty embarrassing.
You had to look away when they started doing stunts. Karen went to the floor on all fours crab walk style, while Gretchen positioned herself behind her, and Cady geared up to- you couldn't watch. Suddenly, the music cut out and a heavy thump accompanied by someone's breath wooshing out of their lungs echoed through the gymnasium.
Kylie covered her mouth in a valiant effort not to laugh. You bumped your shoulder into hers. She bumped back. Mrs George had gasped and almost surged out of her seat. A beat of silence. Then, like water rippling, laughter began to bubble out of people.
You still couldn't watch. You could hear heels clicking on stage, groaning, and some frantic whispering. Kylie had tears in her eyes and her whole body was shaking.
"What's happening?" You whispered to her.
"Cady... She... Belly flopped the stage." She managed to get out before bursting into giggles.
"What? Is she, like, okay?"
"She's getting up. The principle's getting on stage." Kylie reported while you kept your eyes firmly on your lap. "He's gonna say something, oh, Gretchen's taking the mic-"
You had to look up when you heard your full name being spoken into the microphone, but regretted it as soon as Gretchen finished the sentence:
"-is a lesbian!" Quiet. Again.
You looked down so fast your neck cracked. Through the tinnitus in your ears, you could vaguely hear the principal admonishing Gretchen, the murmurs in the hall, their heels clicking off stage.
Why was Gretchen of all people announcing your sexuality at the talent show? What did she have to do with any of this? Maybe Regina had put her up to it. It didn't seem planned, though. You thought that Regina and Gretchen weren't talking.
"What's a lesbian?" Kylie asked you, all innocence and wide eyes.
"Kylie, don't ask that, it's not appropriate." Mrs George said.
"Why? Is it a bad word?" She turned to her mother. You took deep breaths and clenched your fists. Unclench. Clench. Everything was going to be fine.
"No, but it's not good to accuse somebody like that." Mrs George tried to explain gently, but you could tell she was out of her depth.
"But what does it mean?"
"Kylie, I said don't-"
"It means a girl that likes girls." You cut in.
"Huh... So like how boys like girls, but a girl likes a girl?"
"Yeah."
"Oh. Okay."
You would've paid so much money for it to be that simple. Why you couldn't be afforded the benefit of the doubt that you weren't a pervert, riddled with disease, and out to get people? Why was it so unbelievable that you didn't want to change the world, you just wanted to get married someday? Why did kissing girls on the mouth make you a predator?
You suspected there were no real answers to those questions. Fear. Repression. The patriarchy. Religion. The wage gap. Whatever.
The show went on. You felt numb. Realistically, what could you even do? Stand up and shout that it wasn't true? That would only serve to put a name to a face. The next talents came and performed their mediocrity to the mildly interested crowd. There was a pretty good sleight-of-hand magician. Somebody had trained their cat to do tricks.
Eventually, it was Regina's turn to take the stage. You couldn't help but perk up when they announced her. Mrs George was out of her seat immediately, kneeling on the pathway to the stage with a video camera poised to film her daughter.
The curtains parted. She stood in the centre of the stage, mic stand in front of her. She smiled a little, eyes on her mom presumably.
Her hair was done in soft waves, framing her face so beautifully. Natural makeup kept light, a compromise between the bare face that you liked and the full beat she was into. She was wearing an old white tee shirt, the logo so faded you could barely make it out. That had been your shirt, you realized as you narrowed your eyes. You'd gotten it from summer camp, one that Regina hadn't been able to come with you to. After you came back she'd confiscated all the stuff you'd gotten there. Tee shirts, crafts projects, a whittled duck, braided cord. You'd always assumed she had thrown it all in the trash. On her wrist was a braided leather cord and a wood bead friendship bracelet. She had on Lee jeans that hugged her hips and thighs exquisitely. Those had been her mom's.
In her hands was the photo album. Everybody could read the front, Reggie & Jorts.
"Notice me... Take my hand..." She crooned into the mic as the soft melody of Briney Spears' Everytime began to play.
"Why are we strangers when our love is strong? Why carry on without me?"
You felt like you couldn't breathe.
"And every time I try to fly I fall without my wings," Her eyes scanned the crowd. You wondered if she was looking for you. "I feel so small, I guess I need you, baby,"
She found you. Your eyes met, hers clear and blue and somehow so sad, even as she glittered up on stage. Even with everybody's eyes on her, she was looking at you.
"And every time I see you in my dreams, I see your face," She sang so prettily, every note like a gentle caress, a soothing balm to your ears. You did so love to hear her sing.
"It's haunting me. I guess I need you, baby," Her eyes closed, like she couldn't focus on two things at once; looking at you and singing. She swayed gently with the rhythm, feeling the soft instrumental in her feet. Sneakers. Simple, white sneakers.
Her eyes opened again with the next lyrics. You tried not to overthink it, tried not to imagine things that weren't there, but maybe there was a glassiness to her eyes that hadn't been there before.
"I make-believe, that you are here. It's the only way that I see clear. What have I done? You seem to move on easy."
You swallowed, eyes closing. You weren't sure what to think. Was this her way of apologizing? Was she trying to make up for what'd been said? Hadn't she just earlier today made your life living hell?
You leaned your elbows onto your knees and cradled your face in your hands. What were you supposed to do now? She was singing to you. This was the ultimate show of sincerity, of vulnerability, but what were you meant to do with it all in your hands? Your chest tightened and your breaths shortened.
The song continued, you knew the lyrics by heart, but only once she sang the next part did you open your eyes again.
"I may have made it rain, please forgive me. My weakness caused you pain, and this song's my sorry,"
You understood. Cowardly as it may have been, Regina was apologizing to you. Though the references were obscure enough that most, if not all, people would not know who she was singing to, it was quite clear this was a song for somebody.
You rubbed at your throat. It felt constricted, like something was tightening around it.
You couldn't shake the feeling that it was too late. As much as you would've liked to weep in gratitude, be swept in the relief that she was taking you back, irreversible things had happened. None of this made sense. If she hadn't pulled the stunt today then who had? Had she told somebody? Had Janis told?
Regardless, you were an outcast. If not, then ridiculed. You were scared. You had become a target. You didn't think anybody at Northshore was capable of the atrocities you saw reported on the news, but nobody who'd become a victim did until it was too late.
As it was, it didn't matter whether or not you forgave Regina. It didn't matter if she forgave you.
"I guess I need you, baby," As the last line of the song carried throughout the gymnasium, and after the split second of stunned silence before people began cheering and clapping, you got up and left.
You'd smoke a cigarette and get out of here once and for all. Then, you'd drive home and call dad. You'd tell him everything, tell him you needed to switch schools and that you were gay and that you'd made a real mess of things.
You'd take what was given, reap what'd been sown, and forget all about this goddamned town.
Forget all about Regina George.
Notes:
Took a bit longer with this one. Sorry for the suspense! Here, have some more unresolved stuff! Also, I fucking love that song by Britney Spears. I've known Regina was gonna sing it for J since pretty much the beginning and finally, she did.
Taglist will be posted separately. If you want to be added to the list, please comment on that post! Thank you!
#mean girls#mean girls 2004#mean girls 2024#regina george#regina george x reader#regina george x you#regina george x oc#regina george x ofc#lesbian regina george#wlw#fic: yard work
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i keep thinking about essentially being like. velvette's 'charity case' model and how your relationship develops from there.
notes: fem!reader, velvette calls you ugly LMAO, beyond that... no warnings, really. surprisingly the most healthy vee relationship ive written yet!
velvette's typical models all look similar, reminiscent of the modeling industry back when you were alive. tall, skinny and, more important than anything else, human-looking. most of them could pass for humans in a costume.
you… do not. you just didn't get quite that lucky with your demon form! really, you can say that the vast majority of people drew the short end of the stick, at least by the kind of standards that people like velvette set. maybe you're a bat, with a snout you've deemed as pig-like taking up most of your face. or a sheep, your single-slitted, dead eyes making even you uncomfortable. perhaps you're more formed after an object than what you would consider a person, or plant-like in nature! in any regards, due to the way lucifer chose to have you reborn you firmly do not fall within hell's beauty standards.
all of that means you were absolutely not expecting to be accepted when you went ahead and applied to a job with someone as famous and perfectionistic as velvette. it had started as a joke, really. you'd posted a purposefully horrible picture of yourself on vitter, with a stupid caption like; "do u think that :skull::heart: would kill me for submitting to open casting looking like this lmaooooo" (you have to use emojis to talk about the vees, as the socials owned by them are notorious for taking anything remotely negative down.)
and unexpectedly, your post randomly did some pretty big numbers, with people egging you on and some practically begging to tell you what kind of insults she would sling at your head. you saw some people copying your original as well.
so you're like! whatever!!! you don't think that you'd even get through the application process, much less velvette herself. nothing will end up happening, so, who cares? but then, somehow, despite everyone and their mom wanting to model for velvette, you get… through? and you even get an interview scheduled with velvette herself?
she takes one look at you as you walk in, and just goes: oh my god. this really is grim. and you're hardly seated, before she continues. look, i don't have the time for niceties, and introductions are entirely unnecessary. i'm sure you already know this, but you're not here because of your looks.
yeah. you figured that. …i guessed so. but i'm still sitting here. so, why?
instead of getting a real answer, you're shuffled off into a shoot, different outfits flashing on top of your body, faster than you blink, velvette's face settled into a scowl, till it suddenly lights up. it doesn't go… super well, you've never really done this and, if you had, velvette's attitude surely wouldn't help. you never really get clarity as to why you're being hired, when a contract is shoved in front of you.
(the reality of the situation is that velvette had seen you trending, not trending-trending, but still a noticable. she realised the demand for someone like you, a 'relatable' every-demon being thrust into this new world, and documenting it online. her company can claim they accept 'all kinds of demons', and some poor suckers will feel less excluded when looking at her fashion, buying it more quickly. win-win-win!)
she tells you to you're face that you're the ultimate challenge. if she can fix someone like you up to in a half-decent model, it just shows that she really is a fucking goddess. maybe you're not as pretty or as used to everything as the rest of the models, but that doesn't mean you don't put in any effort now that you're there. the other girls won't associate with you whatsoever, but you do listen in on their conversations, pretending to mess around on your phone, coming to know the kind of make-up velvette likes. you tirelessly browse online, mostly on vikvok and vitter, figuring out the current trends. and after a while, velvette takes a look at an outfit you picked, and actually says…
this is pretty decent. it won't look good on you, but i can use this. maybe, somewhere along the way, you become more of an assistant or outfit suggestor for velvette, only occasionally stopping in for shoots. velvette never accepted anyone in a similar position to you, even though vox tried her to get an assistant for ages, and she wouldn't have accepted you either if you'd obviously being vying for the position. but you weren't, and your position just kind of naturally developed that way.
your shtick as a 'charity case' has somewhat been abandoned, though velvette still dumps clothes in your arms sometimes and tells you to try them on. maybe you're one of the few people who gets her to laugh, and the only one who she freely bitches to about all of her models. (she does this to vox and valentino too, but it's not the same. they don't care as much, nor do they really know who she's talking about.) she lets you sort through some of the open casting applications and help pick out the theme for a shoot.
of course, absolutely everything you do has to go through velvette first, and she still criticizes you aplenty, but you can't help but feel she has grown… fond of you, in a sense? sometimes, you swear you see her wearing outfits you'd picked out for another model… and while she shittalks everything that moves, you just happened to listen in on her giving a model a tonguelashing for talking bad about you. either way, you've certainly come to like her a lot more. you're now even mutuals on vitter and vikvok! much to the delight of the tiny following you'd grown on there. she even posted a picture of the two of you on there! …that means you've really made it.
maybe at some point, when her company has hit a new milestone and, in a rare slip-up (or perhaps valentino gave her a super strong drink on purpose, thinking its funny) she gets pretty drunk. you end up sitting opposite of each other in a bar, with her having decided on the spot to put some make-up on you, leaning in close to check her work, fingers gliding slowly over your skin. a situation that feels entirely too intimate for this setting, not helped by the half-lidded look in your eyes. …i have changed my mind. she mumbles, slurring her words are little. you can look pretty, after all.
you sputter out a oh really, and you only realised that now?! in order to break the heaviness of the air, the unspoken tension that makes your heart skip a beat, and velvette laughs.
(maybe there's hope for the two of you yet.)
#hazbin hotel x reader#velvette x reader#hazbin hotel velvette x reader#hazbin hotel#velvette#cha.velvette
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Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH36
Time find out just how fucked up Toshiro got.
Hey Kabru. Chill.
That sure is a normal look to give your team mate. I'm sure you're a normal, well adjusted leader who understands when you step out of bounds.
Bold of you to assume they even care. They're too caught up in the plot of the second arc to even remember you...
So much to question here. The fact that Toshiro has retainers. The fact that they're all mildly bored. The fact that Marcille seems to hate it here. Marcille, hello??? Are you only interested in Falin? Do you just hate people that aren't her?
The fact that she's still wearing the frog costume makes this panel, honestly. What a legend.
This is so wholesome. Laios just decided to therapy this workaholic man all on his own, dangit. If he won't do it, who will? Senshi must be so proud.
Hang on, I just realized--.....is that.
Is that the cat girl...?!!? That I've been seeing? I thought it was just a hat at first, but those are ears, aren't they?! Is she the one that eventually joins the party?
Marcille, you're a beautiful frog woman to me.
If I didn't know that Chillchuck is a dad already, I would have known it at this point. What a thing to say. "oh no, which one of these kids grown men is going to cause more trouble if left unattended"
I'm sure that's fine.
...........
But when you put it that way, it seems a little.... simple?
Kabru is beginning to suspect he's in the wrong class.
"Ah yes, a little freak that scuttles around from paintings to reality and speaks in archaic and mysterious tones. GOTTA be a Sorcerer. And hella mad, too!"
The math checks out, your honor.
Her best, Karbohydrate. She did her best.
Oh Laios, you're a hoot.
Kabru, you literally said Laios is a terrible liar three seconds ago. Maybe be a little less obvious? 😂
...you've done this to yourself, mate.
Okay, you know what. I take it back. I still don't like Kabru but watching him suffer IS supremely entertaining.
Okay, I can see how he might jump to the wrong conclusions here. They did not, in fact, eat the orcs.....
Orcs are duty bound to slap ya upside the head.
I love how genuinely patient Senshi is, and how good he is at listening. Chillchuck was worried but he's just vibing with new friends.
I'm sure they're having a grand old time.
What do those ears do, hmmm?
I enjoy the fact that he says "they're all treated as heinous criminals" instead of passing moral judgement and saying 'they're beyond reproach' or the like. He knows the consequences, and remarks not at all on whether or not he agrees with the judgement itself.
I could also draw some parallels here about how Japan treats all drugs but. Well. That's another topic.
Oh, noooo. As opposed to that other way of dying, where your corpse is dragged about in a carnival fashion after you die, to dry up in the light of day forever after.
Oh wait.
This bitch is really only here for the drama. 😅
FALIN?!?!?!?! MY GIRL
WHY THE LONG......body...?
....................cool. Cool cool cool cool cool. Alright. Okay okay okay. Alright.
#dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi quick reacts#chekhov reads dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#dungeon meshi liveblog
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People love to compare Roy and Bradley or Ling and Wrath, but I think there is a special beauty in the narrative parallels between Riza and Winry.
Because these woman manage to break out of the Shounen mold in a way that reaches beyond the Strong Female Character trope and quickly secures itself as... good character writing. Period.
And they do so in a very clever way. Someone else on here once pointed out that Hughes/Mustang/Hawkeye are the trio that runs parallel to Ed/Al/Winry and while they aren't narrative foils to each other - at least not in the way many of the other characters are - they do present a similar function within the story. The three young people who went on an adventure. Only Hughes died and Riza and Roy were permanently altered - and Ed, Al, and Winry got a chance to save the world.
But especially when it comes to Riza and Winry there is something more to the comparison. Especially when it comes down to the choices they made.
But why are Riza and Winry more interesting?
Because when Roy recruits Ed and Al, Riza tells Winry that she followed Roy into the military because she had someone to protect - and this - in other stories - would clearly be a setup for Winry later following Ed and Al into the military to "protect" them. A direct parallel between the two "girls" in a Shounen trio. We've all seen it before.
And I think we see Winry play with that thought when she sticks around Central with them after her first apprenticeship in Rush Valley - she tries to be the third girl to Ed and Al's action duo… but it doesn't work out.
She - strong, clever, genius, confidant Winry Rockbell - suddenly feels weak. Because she can't punch danger away from Ed. She can't repair Al's scratches and dents. She can't kill Scar to save her friends and avenge her family. She can't learn how to shoot and kill just to protect her friends - no, that's not quite correct, is it? She won't. She won't learn how to kill.
And that sucks. Because Winry isn't used to feeling like that, so lost and insecure, at least not constantly. Yeah, when Ed and Al are away, she worries, and that's part of the reason why she tried to join in, but that is nothing compared to the powerlessness she's facing now. Maybe she would worry less if she could be there when they fight, if she could protect them like Riza does with Mustang… but that's just not who she is.
Her job isn't to protect Ed and Al - her job is to give people arms and legs and good costumer service. I really like that scene/episode (23, me thinks) where she gets a phone call from Rush Valley and all these people ask for her to come back. Because Yes, Ed telling her thanks for helping him is VERY important for her character… and yet I think this phone call is the moment Winry realizes that she's not Riza. That she won't take a gun into her hands and kill for Ed and Al.
She will never be Armstrong or Hawkeye or even Izumi… she will be Winry Rockbell, automail engineer and genius.
And that's the reason why only she could have pulled Scar on their side. Because she chose healing over killing - her telling Scar in Baschool that she'd save his life because her parents would want her to honor their choice? That was Winry following the deeper themes of the show, by adding positive energy to the flow of the universe.
Riza saving Scar? Wouldn't have worked (why would he listen to the woman with a gun in her hands?). Armstrong helping Scar? Wouldn't have happened (what reason would General Armstrong have at this point to spare a murderer?). Mei saving Scar? Would have ended with the Ed/Marcoh/Scar/Al alliance falling apart (it is so much easier to fall apart if no one has been forced to see past the horror yet).
And it's not because these characters were even a touch less well written than Winry - if anything it showcases how unique all of the female characters in FMA were/are.
In this we find Riza again - because Riza chose differently than Winry. She followed Roy into the military, she learned and perfected how to shoot and kill. Their narratives mirror each other - Ed carefully prying a gun out of Winry's hands so she doesn't kill, only to give Riza a bloody gun a few episodes later, knowing she will clean it and use it to kill.
When Riza tells us that she has lost the right to feel squeamish about killing because of often she'd pulled the trigger, she is Winry's foil - Winry who was stopped before she could make a similar choice.
And it's not just that, is it?
Riza let her hair grow because a young Winry Rockbell had long hair and seemed to like it - and Riza needed a change after coming back from Ishval.
Winry got her ears pierced because the strong Lieutenant visiting them had looked cool (and because she needed a place for all of Ed's little gifts) - and Winry needed something steadfast, now that her friends were growing up.
There's just something about the two of them, so similar, so loyal and stubborn and full of love, that fascinates me. Because at every turn they make a different choice, at each turn one walks deeper into hell and the other chooses healing - and yet, while they couldn't be more different, they also couldn't be any closer.
I can't imagine how glad Riza was, when she realized Winry hadn't followed Ed and Al into the military.
I can only guess how happy Winry was, when she saw Riza follow Mustang further if only to make sure the future actually changed.
A mirror doesn't have to be a perfect thing, and if anything I think that is on purpose.
#fma#winry rockbell#riza hawkeye#fma meta#edward elric#roy mustang#royai#fullmetal alchemist#fullmetal alchemist brotherhood#fmab#a meta for the girls#because so much of the meta analysis i see about them#boils down to Strong Female Character#and i think we can do better than that#so lets talk about parallels
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The thoughts about Jester!Yuu have just not stopped in the literal 7 days since you posted!
Can you IMAGINE the other dorms finding out that Yuu is a Jester, but only for Heartslaybul?
Vil would be envious as could be! He is practically the successor to the Beautiful Queen, but Yuu chose to be part of Riddle's court instead? Rook adored the beauty of performance regardless of the genre, but he would like to see Yuu in Pomefiore colors... Epel just thinks that the costume looks uncomfortable.
Leona doesn't give a damn beyond admiring the athleticism required, but Ruggie is eager to learn a few slight of hand tricks. Jack is just baffled by the costumes. Layers and colors and patterns all over, and the grease paint makeup? Not for him, thanks!
Kalim would love to have Yuu perform at a party or fifteen! Jamil just likes that Yuu can get away with mocking people to their faces, something he's almost envious of.
Azul, of course, sees profit! Every chance to customize costumes, ticket and food sales for a performance- he's already imagining ways to get a contract, but Jester Yuu is more clever than he thinks. The twins are fascinated, of course! You dress in a costume and get to do whatever you want, and even mock Riddle to his face without rebuke.
Idia thinks of Yuu like a video game character come to life! Always performing silly dances and making clever quips, often with some variation of their Jester gear and makeup, like extra costumes you can buy as DLC. Not to mention how Yuu can say and do practically anything in Heartslaybulwithout punishment. Ortho loves how colorful and cheerful Yuu is! He almost wants to ask big brother to make him a jester body so he can learn from them.
Diasomnia is a bit split. Sebek thinks Yuu's behavior is disgracefully inappropriate, and so disrespectful. Lilia considers Yuu a wonder! That Riddle child was too stiff, and Lilia remembers many court jesters with great fondness. Silver finds Yuu entertaining, but also tiring at times, and is almost wary of how perceptive they are... Malleus adores Yuu. Never afraid of him, always willing to speak your mind and treat him like any other. Fun and bright and endlessly energetic. Truly, if you grow bored of Rosehearts, then he would be more than happy to have you become the Jester of the Draconia family.
(Forgive me if this is too long, but I've been brain rotting about Jester Yuu for a week, lol)
Yes to all of this. I haven't finished my drafts due to lack of art (also I'm waiting for my new digital art pad to arrive)
Jester!Yuu is just a silly little fool. With bells and ribbons on their arms and legs.
Unfortunately due to the nature of being a court jester they can't just leave their court. It's in the name. Yuu can leave if they are sent to another court by the "Queen or King" though this is temporary.
Most of Yuu outfits are made to suit Riddle's court with hearts, clovers, diamonds, and spades decorating them. Most of their acts revolve around acts of tomfoolery and disregard for rules. Like pretending to be the queen of hearts and making silly demands and making things "disappear"
No matter what Riddle says getting him to give up his jester is more just difficult. You wouldn't either. If you had someone whose job is to make you smile and laugh you wouldn't let them go.
The only way to convince him would be to trick him or just kidnap Yuu.
Don't worry they don't mind. Do it. In fact, they like it. Don't ask them, just do it.
You don't have to force them to perform either.
Is it a bit twisted to want your very own jester to dance and sing for you? To be your little doll who dresses up in your image. To have them in your court where their smile and laughter is also yours.
Maybe, but look at what school this is. Seems fine and they don't care.
Wether its juggling, acrobatics, jokes, dancing, singing or even acting they can do it all.
There is also the weird underlying attractiveness of the jester. Maybe it was provocative and elaborate outfits. Maybe it was unique makeup that made their face like the most delicate porcelain.
It doesn't matter they like the attention and aren't above lounging on your lap just show how invincible they were.
You wouldn't hurt them. They are just a silly little clown. You wouldn't fight a silly willy little clown, would you? For shame.
#jester!yuu#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland yuu#twst yuu#riddle rosehearts x reader#vil shoenheit x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#leona kingsholar x reader#malleus draconia x reader#kalim x reader#idia shroud x reader
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RED NIGHT
Summary: Their encounter is brief, but it leaves an indelible mark on him. What begins as a fascination with kindness and beauty takes a haunting turn.
WARNINGS: NSFW / Dark content / +18 / Stalker!Raph /masturbation/descriptions of blowjob (male receiving) / Xenobiology (descriptive) / light dirty talking/belly bulging (one mention) / suggestions of kidnapping / set from five-seven years after out of the shadows so he's in his mid or late twenties
The image is a beautiful piece of art, courtesy of @thejudiciousneurotic 🖤 go check it out!
It was stupid to think he could be seen as anything more than a monster, especially through the hateful eyes of humankind: Judging, ungrateful, suspicious, casting glances bolted with a sick tone of curiosity, and some twisted kind of surprise. Despite whatever acceptance they enjoyed at the beginning, some Police officers still cling to their reservations. And those are the ones that hang heavier over Raph's shoulders.
The staring is the worst. It produces an eerie sensation, one that simmers in his veins like a boiling toxin, equally choking as electrifying, and Raphael knows, deep in the marrow of his bones, that he has to draw a breath or risk losing control.
Heroes don’t lash out, Raph reminds himself as he climbs up the ladder out of the lair. They smile, protect, comfort. All things that physically squeeze his guts. Especially because he has to force himself to be nice after their prying eyes. It’s beyond sickening and yet, he understood. After all, in or out of the shadows, hero or vigilante, a mutant’s still a mutant.
He spots you first before standing under the streetlight and signaling. The light is scratchy some nights more than the looks themselves, but wrapped in Halloween’s safety, he figured it wouldn’t matter if you see him.
Raph watches as you take off your helmet, powering off the colorful motorbike. Then, as he stands before you, you bestow upon him the sweetest, most beautiful of smiles. Your visage radiates warmth, and your demeanor tranquility.
"Wow, dude you look great!" you gush in a friendly tone.
It takes him by surprise, so much he runs out of words briefly.
"Uh... Thanks," he mutters, chastising himself inwardly.
Cringing at his own awkwardness, Raph accepts the pizza box, offering the money with his free hand. You place your hand atop his, gently pushing the money back with a smirk.
"Hot guys don’t pay tonight."
His heart pounds within his chest, tummy twisting in a pleasant way. The outlines of a smirk peek through his face, his gaze gleaming with his usual bravado.
You smile. Raphael grins back. The radio on the bike snarls your name, Where are you? You're 15 minutes late for the next delivery!
"Well, duty calls," you remark, securing your helmet in place. "See you around, big guy!"
You strike a chord in him, awakening something so strong it's frightening, and from that moment on, Raphael is unable to shake you from his mind. Soon, thinking of you becomes a part of his everyday life. What things do you like? Would you think if someone like him were to flirt with you?
Repulsion.
A terribly cruel part whispers within him. Disgust, aversion, disdain when you find he wears no costume. Yet, you were kind the first time you met him. But it is your job to be, he reminds himself. That's why Raphael decides to spare himself the heartbreak by simply following you from the shadows. This way, he can see you, spend time with you, and, most importantly, he can protect you.
It takes him one or two days to discover how careless you are, forgetting to close windows, take out the trash, and get home before the area gangs demand payment for safe passage down your street. Ridiculous. He takes care of them in the blink of an eye. Perhaps being a little rougher than necessary, just to be sure.
Sometimes, he would stay watching from the neighboring roof - because you are careless enough not to close the curtains - as you get ready for bed. The memory of the softness of your touch on his hand hits him with bull force as you slide the shirt off. The skin on your torso looks impossibly smooth. But the way your underwear molds perfectly to your ass makes him almost unable to resist getting closer. To wait for you to fall asleep and take a direct look inside, letting your scent intoxicate him.
It wouldn’t harm anyone, would it? The question lingers as he contemplates entering your house while you're away. The idea flits through his mind for a couple of nights until one day, he convinces himself that it wouldn't disturb anyone if, while you're at work, he takes a peek.
—---
Your room is cramped for him, but not so much that he can't move. Upon entering, he heads straight for your room. With each advancing step, his gaze broadens, his smile widens, and the butterflies in his stomach grow wilder, craving to slide inside your space, to bask in the warmth of your bed. He pants, his crotch pulsing with the thought of breathing your scent directly from your sheets.
You weren't exactly neat, but he couldn't say you were as messy as he was either. A couple of shirts lay scattered on the bed, a few clothes strewn across the floor. He smiled affectionately, letting his eyes wander, as if he'd just uncovered a whole new chapter in his mental book about you; and he knew he'd have a hard time leaving.
The dressers with your clothes were open, and then he saw it: the place where you keep your underwear. His uncertainty lingers briefly, a startled exhale escaping his lips. Then, unapologetically, he raises a pair of panties to his nose and breathes in. A low, guttural groan slips from his throat as he savors your scent.
An exquisite tickle runs from his chest to his lower belly, spreading hot weaves of craving through his veins. His dick twitches. If you were there, if for just a moment you could see him as something other than a monster, Raphael is certain you would smirk deviously, gaze stuck on him, starving for him. His breathing trembles as he presses one hand over his pants, pressing his cock gently.
You’d place your hands over his plastron dragging them down slowly as your nails graced the surface of his pectoral area, trailing down to his abdomen. You bend down, never tearing your gaze off his face while urgently unzipping his pants to fist him.
A breathy gasp spurs from his mouth. He grips the base of his shaft stroking it just a bit to ease up the building need to fuck his fist.
“What a pretty cock,” you’d say, rubbing his length gently, “bet I can make it come fucking hard.”
You lick a stripe from the base to the tip, not even minding about the alien-looking of it: huge by every human means, with two bulges growing from the base and attached to his shaft. You mouth him deliciously, trailing your tongue through the seminal ridges near his tip, which surely look to you like mobile skin folds. And you embrace it with your hot wet mouth like it’s luscious.
His hand is soaking with a hot slippery-transparent liquid seeping from his tip down into his dick, pooling into his hand as he uses it to lube himself more. He quickens the pace of his hand as he pictures you bobbing your head up and down, your pretty mouth around him velvety soft.
His breaths quiver.
“So fucking tasty. Wanna drink you down, babe. Give me everything,” you sound drunk-like, and he can’t help the loud moan.
Fuck— agh, fuck…
Raphael pants as he slowly comes down from his peak, enjoying the last bits of blissful spasms inside his lower belly. His cock yet throbbing in his closed fist.
—--
After meticulously erasing all traces of his presence and stashing the ruined underwear somewhere within his attire, Raph slips out of your apartment quietly, feeling so empty it wrecks him, but It's better this way. It's better to indulge in the fantasy that you’d want him than to face the harsh, cold reality where you'd scream at the realization that his skin isn't just a costume.
However, the first drawback of fantasies is that they can be addictive. The second is that they can lead you to do things you wouldn't do in your right mind, like keeping some of your stuff for himself. It’s really not that bad, is it? He’s not stealing from you, it’s more like a long term loan.
It is way more comfortable to envision yourself from the comfort of his bed, spacious enough to snugly fit him. So, what harm could it do if he takes along some things with your scent? A couple of pillows, a bit of perfume, some shampoo, and a few bedclothes here and there; so that when he takes a deep breath from them, it's easier to see you there, stuffed with his cum as he keeps thrusting inside you, your belly bulging from fitting his size as your squirm, moaning for him, dripping on him, deliciously begging for more.
When he returns to your apartment, the window is closed. Bolted shut with a small metal bar. How odd. You never do that, and you don’t have to; he's always in the neighborhood, guarding to ensure no harm comes to you. Do you have something to fear?
—---
You start drawing the curtains, coming home earlier, adopting a less predictable routine that he struggles to follow. It's annoying. Very annoying. And then it happens: some stupid ass gang attacks you. At least, that's what he can hear through the wall as you narrate the incident to someone over the phone.
You walked down a dark alley, far from the area Raph had cleared for you, as lately, you've felt like someone's been watching you on your way home.
He feels a stab in his stomach after hearing that, but nothing as paralyzing as seeing you bleed from your temple. It is a clean, swift wound, maybe from a knife. You cry: raw, desperate, so nerve-wracking it’s unbearable.
Raphael leaps from rooftop to rooftop, seeing nothing but red. When the frenzy of rage and bloodlust finally subsides, there's nothing left but a bunch of guys with torn jackets sprawled all over the place. They're not dead, but they won't feel alive for a very, very long time.
He stands there silently recognizing he'll have to deal with the consequences of his outburst as Leo would know, because of course he would, he'll jump to that conclusion. And sure, Donnie would back him up. He can't afford such indulgences when he's supposed to be there for you, when everything could culminate in his brothers forbidding him to do so.
He wishes he could keep you away from where your erratic behavior might harm you; he wishes he could just take you with him— Raphael gasps. That's it! He'd take you with him; if he explained the situation, you'd surely understand. You'd be safer at the lair.
With a grin on his face, he heads back to your apartment. The rain that lashed the city that night helped him wash away most of the bloodstains on his skin. He reaches your apartment in a blink of an eye. He peeks through the living room window. The silhouette of your figure on the floor tells him you're in the bedroom.
He taps the window to get your attention. You seem troubled, and he knows that if you see him hanging like a Sewer monster outside your window, you won't let him in. So Raphael hides once more, circling around to reach your bedroom window from the back, and he waits, his eyes on the sky and his bicep against the window. The rain pours heavily. He waits. Then, a lightning bolt streaks across the sky. Next, the thunder, and as it crashes, Raphael rams the window, masking the sound of the latch snapping open.
The lights go out. The floor creaks under his weight. The sound freezes you. You seem to shrink further into yourself as you tremble. His heavy steps echo in the room. The emergency light kicks in at that moment: dim and red, just enough to cast his reflection on the glass before you. You bring your hands to your mouth, stifling a scream. Your tear-filled eyes stare at him through the glass, paralyzed, utterly terrified.
Shh, no, you don’t have to be afraid, silly. Don't you know he's here to protect you?
#dark content#tmnt dark content#tmnt dark turtles#tmnt raphael#tmnt raph x reader#tmnt 2k16#tmnt bayverse#teenage mutant ninja turtles
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Daylight
Part: 3/?
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Category: Social Media au
Summary: Follow the love story of a global pop icon and a monegasque F1 driver
Face claim: Taylor Swift (Singing) + others
Note: I can’t comment on any posts (I’ve written to tumblr for help) so If you comment on my post and I don’t respond that’s why :)
Tag-list: @mindflay3r
Masterlist
2019
yourusername:
liked by charles_leclerc, beyonce and 9 024 358 others
yourusername:
The day is here! Stream Lover on all platforms today. This album is my heart and soul poured into melodies, capturing the love I share with my forever love and muse, Charles.
Every song is a journey through our story, the lyrics describe how utterly and irrevocably in love I am with this man. He came into my life during some of my darkest times like the sun peeking through the clouds on a rainy day. Charles, I once believed love would be burning red like a fire, intense and short lived but you've shown me that it's golden like daylight, soft and long lasting. Thank you for choosing me to be your forever love.❤️
view comments:
blakelively: What a beautiful album!🩷
charles_leclerc: Couldn't be prouder of you mon amour❤️
pierregasly: Amazing album, still can't believe it's about Charles but oh well🤷♂️
- yourusername: hahahah thank you Pear🤩
- charles_leclerc: really Pierre🙁
scuderiaferrari: We will be playing it on repeat in the garage for the foreseable future
- mercedesamgf1: smae
- redbullracing: same
- tororosso: same
- alfaromeostake: same
- mclaren: same
- icemanfan: I love how all the teams love Y/N🤣
slaybastianvettel: This album!!!!! I NEED MYSELF A CHARLES RIGHT TF NOW!!!
y/n_culture: I've never seen her this happy. She literally wrote an entire love album, not song, ALBUM for him!!😭
charles_leclerc
liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 1 824 932 others
charles_leclerc: My wonderful girlfriend just released her newest album Lover. Go listen to it on all platforms today!
Y/N, your talent and your grace is unbelievable. The things you've accomplished are incredible and you deserve every bit of praise and success that the world has to offer. It's an honor to have been the inspiration for this album and to have the privilege of being by your side.❤️
view comments:
yourusername: My forever❤️
arthur_leclerc: cheesy🥴
- charles_leclerc: Shut up Arthur🙄
danielricciardo: What you did to deserve that girl is beyond me🧐
liked by charles_leclerc
charles_lec_lec: Damn he's a keeper😍
- lando_bbg: he's the blueprint fr😍
Honey_daniel: I want what they have🤧
pierregasly:
liked by yourusername, charles_leclers and 838 347 others
pierregsaly: Go check out Y/N new album full of extremely cheesy songs about her and Charles. I never thought I would like the girl that stole my best friend but turns out she is 100x cooler than him. 😎
view comments:
yourusername: thx ig🤨
- pierregasly: you're very welcome🤩
charles_leclerc: Why are everyone bullying me??😅
- yourusername: sorry baby, you just make it so easy to😘
- arthur_leclerc: because you suck
- trybeingredbull: omg Athur💀
- may_leclercish: Her and Pierre 🤧
arthur_leclerc:
liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 237 824 others
arthur_leclerc: so my (future) sister (in law) just dropped an album about my brother which is absolutely disgusting but it's pretty good, 10/10 would recommend!
view comments:
yourusername: Arthur... what is that picture of me??😀
- arthur_leclerc: just wanted to capture your esscence and natural beauty😘😘
- yourusername: I hate you
- arthur_leclerc: no you don't😘
- yourusername: no I don't🫶
ferrarigalsunite: the way he put "future" and "in law" in parentacies because he sees her as a sister. Brb just gonna cry for a bit🤧
charles_leclerc: did you steal my banana costume??😃
- yourusername: noOoo, I would never do such a thing🤠
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc social media au#charles leclerc#formula 1#formula one#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1
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PLUTO.
PART I
Chapters: Part II / Epilogue
Hyunjin x reader. (s,a)
Synopsis: Knowing that your life will end soon, you choose to have your desired death by making a pact with the devil with a red hair, Hyunjin. (16,7k words)
Author's note: This was supposed to be a Halloween fic but it seems like New Year is the perfect time to release it. It's about renewal and awakening but with a little bit of chaos in it.
Warning: Mentions sulcidal thoughts and may be triggering. Reader discretion is advised!
Which one is worse: Living or dying first?
You asked yourself as you stood there rethinking all of your decisions that led to this.
A gust of wind blowing your white dress, cold and harsh, like a slap in the face.
You let out a heavy sigh, the steam of your breath formed a curl of white smoke against the dark of the night.
You looked down, down below from the top of the building where everything seemed so small and people looked like specks of dust, looked down beyond your quivering feet, so high you couldn't even see the bottom, the concrete that would welcome you when you plunge to your death.
Was it a good decision? You asked yourself.
Death is easy.
A stab to the heart, a drop of poison, a cardiac arrest, a hypoxia.
Life is hard.
You wake up to another day of a mundane, dull life, work, home, sleep, eat, sigh and do it all over again the next day. Life is pain itself and everybody dies at the end.
You either die now or later, what makes the difference?
All you need was one jump then it's all over.
Death is that easy.
You took a shaky breath, whether it was from the cold or the fear creeping from the inside, a survival instinct in you that told you to get off the ledge and into the safe side.
You carefully put your leg up and are ready to leap, your mind went blank.
You screamed at the vast night sky because the silence got too deafening then like your brain betrayed you, shut you down before you make the worst mistake of your life, you got off the ledge.
You almost slipped and fell off the top of the building just like how you planned, but you found a hand that grabbed yours. Slender fingers decorated with metal rings, pale and hot to the touch, wrapped around your waist, holding you from falling, from death.
He helped you get off the ledge by lifting you by the waist then put you down gently, away from the edge of the building.
"You're hot," you said.
"It's not the first time I heard that," he said with a teeth-baring grin.
You shook your head, "I mean, you're literally hot," you corrected yourself, it was like he had spent hours by the fire and absorbed all of the heat.
He didn't reply but shoved his hands into the pocket of his dress pants.
"How ironic!" He suddenly said.
"An angel," he said, pointing to you who was dressed in an angel costume with its halo headband, "and a devil," he said, placing his hand on his chest to present himself, "met on a rooftop of a building,"
Your eyes were blurry with tears that made you realize that you were crying, cheeks wet and flushed from the cold.
"An angel about to fall but the devil helps her get off the ledge," he finished.
Did he see everything?
You roughly wiped your tears to see him better.
He was wearing a three-piece suit as black as the night, long hair, slicked back, red like hellfire. He has a small face, pale white skin, and small but smoldering eyes, then the lips, red and plump, like a cherry.
He looked at you with his head slightly tilted to the side, observing you like you were an object that intrigued his mind.
And if he weren't blinking, you would have mistaken him as a statue, a perfectly carved marble statue more beautiful than David by Michelangelo.
"Why don't I buy you some drinks and you can tell me how you got here?" He offered, one corner of his mouth raised higher than the other, forming a sinister smile.
You hugged yourself, either your body was seeking warmth or trying to comfort yourself, considering his offer like solving a math problem.
And he took a step closer, held out his hand at you.
You were slightly shivering from the cold, you started to get a runny nose and the invitation suddenly got so tempting, knowing that his hand would offer you some warmth.
You nodded and let him lead you back inside.
He didn't take you back to the Halloween party your company was having, he took you somewhere else, an empty lounge bar that you didn't know even existed in the building.
He welcomed you to sit on one of the stools that face the counter then he stood, took his suit jacket off in an elegant manner, folded it then placed it on the next stool next to you.
He smiled when he caught you watching him rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows without blinking, he spared you from being embarrassed by hurriedly going behind the counter.
He put his hands on the counter and leaned forward at you, "what do you want to drink?" He asked you with eyes pierced right into yours.
"Anything," you answered. You couldn't decide when it felt like all the knowledge in your brain suddenly vanished when he looked at you dead in the eyes like that.
He squinted his eyes as he thought of something to make for you.
"I think I know the perfect drink for you," he said then went on to grab everything.
It was so riveting, seeing him gathering all the ingredients and pouring them one by one into a shaker: ice, red liquid, red-colored syrup, and vodka, finished it with a spritz of lemon.
He started shaking all the mixture together, shaking your thoughts away then hurriedly clearing your throat.
"Are you working here?" You asked.
He cracked a mystifying laugh at you but not answering your question.
He placed a glass on top of the counter and then poured the cocktails into it, seamlessly without spilling a drop.
For the garnish, he put raspberries in a stick into the glass then presented it to you, and slid the glass right in front of you.
The red cocktail sparkling in the dim light, you lifted it close enough to take a sniff of the sweet-smelling drink.
You glanced up at him and he bat his eyelash at you, giving you permission to drink.
You took a careful sip, it was a bit sour, a bit bitter but it was sweet in the end.
You have to admit that he has a prowess for bartending.
"This is good!" You praised him as he cleaned up the counter.
"What it's called?"
"A love potion," he playfully answered.
You blinked a few times, thinking you misheard him.
He laughed, "it's just a raspberry martini!"
He picked up a cherry from a bowl, stuck his tongue just enough to put it on it, bite the stem between his teeth then pulled it out.
"Do you like it?" He asked.
Once again, you got caught ogling over him doing such a mundane thing as eating a cherry.
"I like it," you said, whether he asked about the drink or the scene that just happened in front of you.
He poured himself a drink, a whiskey and you could feel the alcohol burnt your tongue as he filled the glass half full, then added an ice cube.
He went to sit next to you, took a sip of his drink once he was seated then placed the glass on the counter, the ice made a clinking sound inside the glass as he moves.
You clank your drinks together then took sips of your drinks at the same time and it was getting sweeter the more you drink your cocktail.
"If you don't mind me asking, how did you get there?" He asked, licking his lower lip that made it even more luscious, inviting you to get a taste.
"I don't know. Desperation, I guess," you answered with low giggles. It baffled you that you got to act like that around a stranger you met barely an hour ago.
"Why would a beautiful girl like you be that desperate?" He asked with eyes that secretly assessed you like you were a Rubik's cube that needs to be solved.
"I'm dying," you shortly replied as you stared deep into your drink.
"Figuratively?" He asked.
You laughed but skipped on answering.
"You must think I'm dramatic," you said, you weren't even going to try to shoot your shot. You have no chance with him, there's no use in trying.
"No," he strongly denied yet his voice remained low and calm.
"There's nothing dramatic in letting yourself deep in your feelings," he added.
You looked at him or braved yourself to do so, for a few seconds before looking away.
"I just want it to end," you said.
It surprised you that the words fell out of your mouth like that, you blamed it on the drink but you saw that he only put a shot of vodka in it. There was no way you let loose like this without being drunk first.
"I just want to end my life my way," you said to him, correcting your first statement.
"I'm conflicted because if I do it, my parents will get sad," you explained, "but I don't want to wait for my life to end either. I want to end it my way, at a time that I decided for myself," you said with sadness in your eyes.
"It's my life after all. I get to decide how and when to end my life, right?"
He hummed, trying to catch on to what you were trying to say and gently nodding.
He propped a hand under his chin with his index finger touching his lower lip, looking into your eyes as if he was searching for something in them.
He slightly parted his mouth open and licked his lower lip, making it wetter and redder than before.
"How about you sell your soul to me?"
You burst out laughing, he said it as if he really is a devil with a smirk plastered on his face.
"Yeah, sure!" You played along with him, stirring your cocktail with the stick.
"And in return, you get to have your desired death," he offered a deal.
You ate the raspberries and chewed on them, "that's actually... a nice deal," you said to him.
"I know, right?" He exclaimed, then took a small sip of his drink, "but you have to give me three reasons why I should approve the deal."
"You want me to appeal?"
He nodded.
"Well, first, I don't want to make my parents sad. If I end myself, I can imagine how devastated they would be and I believe they'd blame themselves for it. I don't want that," you explained.
"Second, my life..." you heavily sighed as it summed up how fed up you were with your life, "I feel like there's nothing I can do with my life anymore, it is stagnant like that, it can't go further than this,"
"Or maybe, you haven't looked thoroughly enough," he commented.
"I don't intend to find out anyway," you meekly said, you hurriedly drank your cocktail and let the alcohol burn down the cries trying to escape your throat.
He stayed quiet but intently listened to you, tracing the rim of his glass with his index finger.
"And the third?"
"I told you," you beamed with a foolish smile, this time you were convinced you got a bit drunk.
"You're dying?"
You nodded then finished your drink with one long gulp.
"Figuratively?" He asked for confirmation.
You shook your head, "sadly, no," you said.
You folded your hands on the counter and rested your chin on it, "that's why I don't want to wait for my end to come," you said to him.
He sighed then tilted his head upward, looking up at the ceiling, "And they say life is beautiful?" He sneered at the vast emptiness of the bar.
You let a scornful laugh with eyes drooping lower with each passing second.
"Are those enough to appeal to you?" You asked.
He finished his drink and gasped once he gulped down all of his drink, "I'll think about it," he said.
You snickered, amused that he treated this as if it was real and that he seriously considering it.
"Yeah, take your time," you joked to him with a sleepy smile, and after that nothing.
-
A day in your life always went like this.
You woke up at 5:30 am, did your laundry then cook breakfast, showered then dressed up for work.
You went out and listened to your neighbor arguing about the trash bags again for the umpteenth time as you passed their door. You bought a cup of coffee and got on a bus to work, on a good day, someone would offer you to sit on their seat but that rarely happens.
You worked as a columnist for a newspaper but mostly, to write a review of children's books and or an event of people who paid the newspaper to write about it, who wanted it to be publicly known.
Your boss never took you seriously, that's why he only gave you jobs that other people won't take and also because you would accept everything he gave you.
"Let me guess, a reunion?" Kim asked, a co-worker who sits next to your desk.
"Close. It's an anniversary of a nursing home," you answered, "one of our executives is one of their biggest donators.”
"Well, of course! You'd better make his name big and bold in the article," she sneered.
"Noted!" You beamed in response.
The little delight in an office like this is to talk about lame things that would make you feel better about your life at least for a few seconds before you descend into the pit again.
You swiveled your chair in her direction, "did you perhaps see me leaving the Halloween party?"
She pursed her lips while tugging a pen between her teeth, "I think the last time I saw you was when you said you needed to get some fresh air," she answered.
You recalled everything you did that night, including the part where you went to the rooftop and almost plunge to your death but that didn't happen. You remembered someone stopped you, took you inside to have a drink then from there, it was a big blank.
You didn't know how you get home that night and woke up in a sweat, your Halloween costume stuck to your skin and your shoes neatly placed on the threshold.
"But I can't remember that night either. Someone from the printing got me on a taxi home," she grimaced.
"Oh yeah, I got a little drunk as well," you said despite your memory of last night was still blurry to you.
"I better get started on my article," then swiveled your chair back, pushed to your desk, and started working.
On the afternoon, you went to the pantry to make your fourth cup of coffee of the day. You waited for the machine to finish while looking out the window.
"Can you make me a cup too?" Someone asked from behind you.
You turned around to find Minho. Your friend since the first year of college, the one who asked you to intern at the newspaper together and got the jobs at the same time, the sole reason why you were still here and the one you've been secretly in love with, your first love and the only person you ever fall in love with, staring at you with a smile on his face.
"A black coffee for Minho. On it!" You said to him.
He walked up to you and helped you get a clean mug from the top cabinet.
His hand brushed yours as he handed the mug to you.
You carefully poured the hot coffee into his mug and ripped a pack of brown sugar to add to it.
"Exactly how I like it!" He exclaimed to you with a satisfied smile.
You walked out of the pantry together while carrying your mugs in your hands, catching up with each other since he worked in a different department with you.
"I didn't see you much at the Halloween party," he said.
You swallowed, "I left early," you quickly answered.
"Why? I think I looked for you all night," he said.
He exaggerated it but you took it that he was being nice to you like he always does to you, "I didn't feel well," you lied, but not entirely.
"It's going to get cold, you better start wearing warm clothes," he softly spoke with a hand on your shoulder.
"Sure, I will," you said.
Someone called for him from across the room and he excused himself and squeezed your shoulder before leaving you.
You followed where he was going, knowing well that what was going to happen next would agonize you.
He came to her girlfriend, stood next to her while she talked to him about something, putting all of his attention on her with a smile on his face.
"Is that for me?" She asked him, pointing to the mug of coffee in his hand.
He considered it for a second and handed it to her, "You can have it!"
And there you were, could only look at someone else having what you wanted the most, his love.
It was your fault. You want all that is not yours. You want someone who doesn't want you back. This was all your fault.
You walked back to your desk and plopped down your chair, took a haste sip of your coffee, and let it burn your tongue as a way to avert the stinging pain you felt inside with a physical one.
"I'm going home!" Your co-worker announced once the clock strike 5 o'clock.
"See you tomorrow!" She said to you then gathered all of her things from her desk.
"See you!" You said back before she exited the office.
You dragged yourself to put your things back into your bag and waited for that one saddest part of your day.
You waited and waited, then there he was, Minho glanced at you with a smile on his face, "hey, aren't you going home?"
"In a bit," you answered and forced a smile for him.
His girlfriend came to his side in a matter of seconds and held his hand, it was like she has a radar that would tell her whenever he got too close to you.
"Let's have dinner next time!" He said and he had said it more than dozens of times already but never did.
But still, the intention alone was enough for you, "Bye Minho!" You said to him.
"Bye!" He said to you then left with her girlfriend.
There was nothing that excites you anymore for the rest of the day, but to mourn your life in your tiny apartment.
You saw your mother's shoes on the threshold and knew right away that she came to your apartment unannounced like she always does.
"Mom, you came without telling me again," you told her because just like all mothers do, she likes being nosy and digging through your things.
She was squatting down in front of your fridge, then sighed, "You know what makes me really sad? When I found your fridge empty like this," she said with an edge to her voice.
"What did you expect, mom? I rarely cook," you told her.
"I'd rather have leftovers and expired food in your fridge than just these," she said as she took out all the empty water bottles.
You sighed because talking back to her would only lead to an endless argument so you refrained and tossed your bag on the empty chair.
"Come! Have dinner with me!" She ordered.
You reluctantly sat on the chair and let her serve you food, obeying her like this so she would go on her way faster and leave you alone for the rest of the night.
She asked the same questions, about life, work, friends, and everything that you have no interest in anymore, which is life in general.
"How's dad?" You finally asked, to stop her from asking more about your life.
"Enjoying his retirement like always," she answered.
Your parents were on the verge of giving up the idea of having children when they had you.
Your mom was in her late 30s when she had you, she almost died when she gave birth to you and that made you precious to them. You are their only child, the one that gave them a chance and the joy to be a parent, their only hope to continue their bloodline and carry their genes and soon to be their biggest disappointment.
She left after giving you a series of scolds, ruffling your hair like she always does since you were little and hugging you, then finally leaving you alone in your own private space.
You sat by the small balcony, hugging your knees while looking out the window, wrapping yourself in a blanket because of the cold gust of winter wind even though spring is around the corner.
You fell asleep on your bedroom floor and woke up to the excruciating migraine that always comes so suddenly, without warning.
You crawled to the bedside table and hoisted yourself to get on the bed, pulled open the drawer to take out the medicine.
You rummaged inside the drawer in the dark, shaking up the last of the pills onto your palm and shoved it down your throat, swallowed it down with a few gulps of water.
You sighed into the void of your bedroom and the walls echoed it back to you.
-
"You have to start your treatment immediately!" Your doctor insisted.
"Immediately!" He pressured you, completely annoyed with your nonchalant attitude about your own health.
He was the only one who cared about your well-being, even more than you do to yourself.
"I just need pills for the migraines," you told him in a calm manner.
He hissed and sighed through his gritted teeth.
"Do you have any idea how severe your condition is? You are dying! You'll die soon if you don't receive any treatment," he hopelessly reminded you of your grim future.
"I know that really well," you said to him.
Then again, your attitude only pissed him off more.
"Please, let me assist you. Let me help you, it's a shot in the dark but it's worth a try," he said to you, begging with all of his heart. He must have a lot of pity for you, an old man like him feeling sad for a young girl like you, to suffer such an illness instead of him who already bagged so many life experiences.
Aside from the fact that he's taken the Hippocratic oath, he probably thinks of you like his own daughter.
"Doctor, I don't want to receive any treatment. I just want pills for my migraines," you said again, sternly this time.
He reluctantly took his notepad and scribbled something on it, roughly ripped the paper before handing it to you.
"Please reconsider it before it's too late," he said to you.
"I will," you said despite your decision being final.
"Thank you!" You muttered to him at the end.
It started with the constant migraines and pounding headaches, then when it got too unbearable, you got it checked at the hospital.
When you think life can't be more bountiful, it came with a surprise gift: A tumor on your brain.
To put it simply, you were dying, you lived on numbered days and you have roughly 3 months or less to live according to what the doctor said.
You never had any suicidal thoughts before that, but then again, depression is one of the side effects of dying. Because a surprise gift wrapped in the prettiest bow,
You had informed the office that you'd be coming late and once you arrived, you got called to the editor's office because you didn't highlight the amount of donation the executive made to the nursing home and had to redo the whole article. You took one pill before started working, clenching your fists as you began typing on your keyboard, and just breathe.
As usual, you waited for the saddest part of your day to pass, holding his girlfriend's hand like she would fly away if he didn't, fingers intertwined, so tight.
"Hey, have a good evening!" He said to you.
At least he didn't promise the dinner again which made you quietly wish it came true one day.
"You too!" You said back to him with a thin smile.
You popped another pill even though the migraine had slowly diminished, or maybe you took it because you thought it would also lessen the intangible pain inside you.
You spent the night by the balcony again, sitting down by the sill, wrapped in a blanket looking at the half-moon shining so bright above the city.
It was at a time like this you always thought of death.
The question mainly focused on 'when'? When is the good time to die? Now? Tomorrow? Two days again? By the weekend? At the end of the month?
There was always something stopping you, either your brain offering you logical options, to call the hospital and seek treatment but most of the time, it was just the reminder that you need to take care of a few things before the one final, last breath.
It didn't make you sad at all, the more you thought about it the lighter you got like you were stripping away a layer of fear of yourself.
Accepting reality is easier than keep avoiding it.
You got up in the middle of the night feeling nauseous, immediately ran to the bathroom, then vomited into the toilet bowl. Tears, sweat, and hair stuck to your face, you flushed the toilet, collapsing on the bathroom floor after. Curled up on the tiled floor of the bathroom, suffering from the pain that you have to deal with until you eventually die.
After a moment of trying to gain your consciousness, you heard footsteps approaching your way through the vibration on the floor.
Your vision blurred with tears and you could make out the shape of a dark figure looming in the doorway of your bathroom, tall with a hint of red.
You were in no condition to either fight or fight, you barely had any strength to take a stand.
The figure approached you then you felt the warmth of his hand, cupping your cheek.
"You suffer so much," the figure said.
He ran his fingers down your face and forced you to close both of your eyes, it was a simple touch yet it worked to send you into a painless, dreamless sleep.
-
You made a cup of coffee the second you arrived at the office.
You could feel nauseous from last night lingering inside you and felt another cup of coffee would help. You felt a hand resting on the small of your back and quickly turned on your heel to see who it is, "oh Minho, good morning!" You said, half surprised to see him so early in the office like this.
"You came early!" He said to you.
If he paid attention to you just a little, he would know that you always come early, at the same time every morning.
"Yeah," you half-heartedly answered.
"Which is perfect!" He exclaimed, then leaned against the counter to face you, "I need your help," he said.
"What is it?"
"I have an article and I have to turn it in this afternoon. Can you help me edit it?" He asked as he ripped two packs of creamers with his teeth, then poured it into your coffee.
He stirred it with a spoon while you were holding the mug in your hand, he licked the spoon once he was done then tossed it onto the sink.
"Please?" He asked.
It became a habit of yours, to always submit to his wishes whether you intended to or not.
"Of course!" You said.
You huddled close together in front of his computer, editing the article together and mashing ideas together. He couldn't deny that the two of you made a great team, especially when it comes to writing, it has been like that since college.
"It reminds me of our college years," he said to you.
You turned your head a smiled at him, suddenly aware of the proximity that you hurriedly swiveled your chair to the other way.
"Yes," you sheepishly replied.
"Let me treat you to lunch today!" He said.
"No, it's okay, it's nothing," you kindly refused, holding up your hands at him.
He grabbed your hands and put them down on your lap, "just wait by your desk, I'll pick you up later!" he said with a smile.
Kim invited you for lunch like she always does but you refused since you waited for Minho to pick you up just as he promised.
But he didn't come, even after Kim came back from her lunch and gave you a puzzling look.
"I'm not that hungry," you lied to her and assured her that you felt like skipping lunch.
You got ready for leaving the office, shoving everything into your bag, and didn't even wait for the saddest part of your day to pass like you usually do.
You went home and slept the day away, when you woke up in the dark of your home, you found someone sitting on the balcony that you used to sit on.
You scrambled to turn on the light and found him.
The guy with the hellfire hair and luscious lips, eating an apple.
"I hope you don't mind me taking an apple from your fridge," he said to you.
You roughly pinched the bridge of your nose then rubbed the corner of your eyes, "How do you get in here?" You asked.
"Through the window," he answered.
"But uh... I-" your head was still drowsy.
"I don't think I have apples in the house," you tried again.
He softly sighed, "You should check your fridge because you have a whole box of it," he said.
He got off the balcony and entered your room, standing at the end of your bed looking at you, "I wanted to talk to you yesterday but you didn't look good," he said.
"Talk about what?" You scooted to the edge of the bed, then stopped, your head was spinning and your hands were shaking.
"You shouldn't have skipped lunch and dinner altogether," he said to you.
You limped to exit your bedroom and trudged your way to the kitchen, opened the fridge with all of your strength, finding a whole box of apples inside just like he said.
"Mom..." You sighed with your head still stuck inside the fridge.
He fitted himself in the small space and took two apples, "here, you have one and I have another," he said, handing one to you.
He didn't hesitate to take a bite of the apple and it made a delicious crunching sound that strangely evoke your appetite.
You caved in and took a bite, the sweet juice started to fill your mouth, satisfying your hunger and thirst at once.
He leaned against the kitchen counter, across from you, and looked at you as you stood there chewing on your apple.
"I've been thinking about it," he said.
"What?"
"About the deal."
"What deal?"
"That you want to sell your soul to me and in return I give you your desired death," he replied.
And it all came back rushing through your head like a bursting dam. He was the guy from that night, the one who helped you get off the ledge, who made you that sweet cocktail, and probably the one who took you home, that's why he knew your address.
You gasped and almost threw the apple away, "you're the guy from that night," you exclaimed at him.
"Glad you remember!" He said to you with an unimpressed look.
"The devil," you recalled.
"In the flesh," he finished your sentence.
"Except that you aren't real," you said.
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he decided to move on "anyway, I brought the contract," he said, pulling out something from behind him, a piece of paper, worn and torn at the seam.
"I wrote down everything in the contract and you can read all of it," he paused to walk up to you then stopped just a step away from you, handing the paper to you.
"Just take your time, no need to rush to sign it and I'll be back before midnight," he said.
You took the paper from him and it smelled exactly like you imagined, a page of an old book.
"B–but how?" You asked in pure confusion.
You exhaled a long breath to calm your erratic breathing, "how do I know that this is all real?"
He soft chuckled while rubbing his chin with his knuckle, "just learn the contract paper," he said then took another bite of his apple before throwing the core into the trash bin.
He walked back to your bedroom and you were late to follow him, you caught the last of him getting out of your window to the balcony. But once you looked outside, there was no sight of him or the red of his hair anywhere.
It was like he just vanished into the night.
-
What kind of dream did you have last night?
But the details of your dream were too real to be considered just a dream, the apples were indeed there in the fridge, and the contract paper was on the dining table.
You were reading it when Kim all of sudden asked about it.
"Nothing, it's just a flyer," you waved her off and shoved the paper back into your bag.
The dullness of work suffocated you once again and to top that, Minho's girlfriend celebrated her birthday in the office and invited everyone to have something from the table full of a variety of food she ordered.
If Kim wasn't forcing you to have a slice of cake, you wouldn't have been here and eating the cake in silence, forcing it down your throat with your eyes uneasily looking at her, and then at Minho who stood so close like they were joined at the hip.
She sauntered in your direction and you quickly stuffed your mouth with the cake to avoid answering whatever she was going to ask.
"Seems like you really enjoyed the cake," Minho's girlfriend said.
You nodded with a mouth full of food, "yes, it's delicious," you shortly replied.
She smiled then brushed her hair to the back, intentionally showing something flashy on her hand, a diamond ring.
You knew she was baiting you to ask her the question but you didn't want to give her the satisfaction. You and Kim exchanged a glance, you guessed she noticed it too then looked in two different directions, to anywhere but her hand.
"Minho gave me the best birthday present," she blurted out when none of you asked about it.
You nodded but not saying anything.
"I didn't mean for anyone to know but I think good news should be shared, right?"
You stuffed more cake into your mouth and repeatedly noted, you really didn't want to know anything about that ring.
"We got engaged last night!" She announced, pitching her voice a bit louder for everyone around her to hear.
And suddenly, you had a hard time swallowing your food and it just stuck there in your esophagus.
People started making a ruckus then followed by congratulations from here and there.
You weren't sad or mad at all, you were just a little shaken inside. You forced yourself to swallow it all down inside you, whether it was the food or the bitter, harsh truth that you had to stop this masochistic infatuation.
Everyone's first love is meant to fail anyway.
Minho came to her side a moment later, looking unamused that the news was out. It baffled you how his eyes searched for yours first and not his girlfriend. You looked at each other but nothing came out from both of you.
Minho must be terribly stupid if he didn't know that you have feelings for him. It had been years and all these things you did out of devotion for him were too obvious to be missed.
You believed he knew but he decided to stay oblivious about it.
You got a little disappointed, at him and yourself, disappointed at him for leaving you hanging like this, and at yourself, for not having the courage just to say those three words to him.
"Congratulations!" You said to him, smiling even though you were close to tears.
"Thank you!" He meekly said.
You hated your heart so much for wanting what is not yours, for wanting what is not right, for wanting someone who doesn't want you back, for wanting him.
Your nausea returns when you were in the elevator heading down to the lobby. You felt the queasiness bubbling inside, you quickly covered your mouth and breathed through your nose, calming yourself with eyes uneasily looking at the floor number going down with each level.
You broke into a run when the elevator doors slid open, flung to the nearest bathroom, and pushed any door of the stall to find the one that was available.
You vomited everything out into the toilet bowl which got you retching and gasping for air at once.
"Hey, are you okay?" Kim asked.
You didn't know she was following you until she stood by the door clutching your bag in her hands.
"You dropped your bag," she said, one hand keeping the door of your stall open.
You took a tissue and roughly wiped your mouth with it, "Can you please get me my pills from inside my bag?" You begged.
"Sure, sure!" She fumbled to unzip your bag and shoved her hand inside to take out your medicine.
"Give me two," you said to her, holding out your palm at her.
She complied, shook the container until two pills rolled out then handed them to you.
You dry swallowed them and closed your eyes with your back resting against the partition.
"I have water," she offered, pulling out bottled water from her bag.
She uncapped the bottle before giving it to you.
"Thanks!" You muttered.
"Are you sick?" She asked.
You let out a long shaky breath, "I have this..." you paused to take another sip of water, "acute migraine," you lied.
She checked your body temperature but you seemed fine to her except for how you looked, "you look so pale," she sadly said.
"I just took my meds. I'll be okay," you assured her.
She helped you get up from the floor, smoothing down your skirt and fixing your coat, "you should get a taxi home!"
"Yeah, that's a good idea," you told her since there was no use in refusing her kind suggestion.
-
You sat on the couch waiting for the red-haired whatever man to really come just as he promised last night.
You sat cross-legged and read the contract paper over and over again, still wondering why you played along with him.
"I believe you have read the contract one too many times," he said, appearing out of nowhere behind you.
He walked so gracefully like a model down a fashion runway, poised and cool, his all-black attire supported the whole model's off-duty look.
"How do I know that you're the real devil?" You asked him, never the type to dillydally, especially when it comes to making a deal that involves your life.
"Isn't it obvious enough?" He asked with arms outstretched.
"Or are you hoping that I have horns and red-skinned, scary eyes and claws? Like that?"
You shrugged, "sort of."
He laughed, "my job is to tempt you human and you expect me to do that while looking like a scary creature out of a fantasy book?"
You pursed your lips and shrugged again, "well, that makes sense now," you said, settling the issue with an agreement.
You unfolded the contract paper and pointed to one of the points, "it said that you'll be with me every day. What's that mean?"
"What it literally means. I'll be with you every day, not for the whole 24 hours, of course. I have stuff to do," he said.
"What? Bartending?"
He scoffed.
"That's just ridiculous, I'm not going anywhere," you protested.
"I'm protecting my asset here because what if you had a change of heart?" He sat on the single sofa across from you, crossing his legs and propping a hand under his chin.
"I promise you, I will not," you assured him.
He softly rubbed his lips with his index finger, "are you sure it's not because your unrequited love just got engaged?"
That caught you off guard, "how do you know?"
"I told you, I keep an eye on my asset," he said, now spreading his legs open and propping his elbows on his knees.
You got quiet because you didn’t expect him to know this much about your life.
"So, it's not because of him?"
"No," you strongly denied.
"Let's not take a haste decision," he suggested.
You shook your head, "I think we should sign the contract!” You persisted, took a pen and placed your sign on the bottom corner of the paper.
He laughed when you slid the paper and pen at him, then said, "your turn!"
He burst out laughing, "and you think when you made a pact with the devil signing a paper would do it?"
You glared at him and hissed in irritation, "why didn't you-"
He took the paper and burned it on his palm, turning the paper into ash and smoke.
Your eyes widened in slight shock, it was like a magic trick, except that he wasn't using any trick and no equipment.
"Impressed?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.
You cleared your throat and acted coy about it, "no, but you’ll make a great birthday magician," you told him despite what he just pulled off scared you a little but you tried not to get intimidated by him and repressed it by acting nonchalantly.
He stared deep into your eyes as if he tried to look into your head and see what you were thinking. He didn't look away as he pulled out something from the inner pocket of his black suit jacket.
A locket with a thin gold chain and the pendant isn't bigger than your thumb. He hung it around his hand and showed it to you.
He put it inside his palm after you stared at it long enough.
"Before we make a pact, you haven't decided on your death yet," he reminded you.
"Huh?"
"I promise you your desired death, but the how and when, you haven't told me yet," he clicked his tongue repeatedly, "you have to be specific when making a pact with the devil," he said while squinting his eyes at you.
"Oh?" You exclaimed. He was right, you were rushing everything and you weren't aware of who you are dealing with.
"I want to die peacefully," you said.
"Like drowning?"
"How is that peaceful?" You asked in disbelief.
"Well, it's in the water and it's quiet. Peaceful!"
You winced, "I want to go..." you raked your brain for the right word to say, "quietly."
He scrunched his nose, thinking of an idea.
"I want to die in my sleep," you offered yours before he gave you other strange ways to die.
"Okay, I can do that," he said.
"Next question: when?" He asked, leaning forward at you in curiosity.
"Soon," you shortly replied.
"How soon?"
"Soon enough."
"Tomorrow?"
"Too soon," you snarked.
"A week from now?"
"No."
"One month from now?"
"Too long," you said.
He rolled his eyes in a rather dramatic way and came up with a suggestion real quick, "13 days, that's my final offer!"
You thought it over, two weeks. Would you be able to get your affairs in order in two weeks? It was kind of ideal, it wasn't soon nor late, it was right.
"Deal!"
He got up from the sofa and you unconsciously followed him, getting up from the couch as well. You both took a step closer and stood facing each other in the small living room of your apartment.
"Give me your hand!" He ordered.
You complied and held out your hand at him.
He took a breath to finally grab your hand, wrapping his hand around you and you did the same.
"Are you sure you want to sell your soul to me?" He asked, sounding all business and serious.
You swallowed air then cleared your throat before answering, "yes."
"And in return, you want a peaceful death?"
"Yes."
"13 days from now?"
"Yes," you undoubtedly replied.
A fire alight, setting both your clasped hands in a blazing fire but surprisingly, you didn't feel hot or in pain, it was warm, like your hand wrapped in mittens.
"Oh fuck!" You cursed under your breath, it shocked you but weirdly, you didn't try to take your hand away from him. Your eyes flicked to his face, his eyes turned into shades lighter than the usual dark eyes, gleaming like the eyes of a tiger in the dark.
"In a matter of 13 days, your soul will be mine," he said with eyes that looked right into you, so deep like he talked right into your soul that soon will be his.
You couldn't lie but felt a little frightened inside, you could feel beads of cold sweat form on your back and probably seep into your shirt.
"Congratulations, your life is officially cursed and you'll burn in hell forever!" He said with a smile that was the opposite of what he said to you. Then the fire went off, he let go of his hand to take out the locket again and opened it to reveal what looked like a clock but strangely, there was no number on it, just the needles.
"Places your thumb on it!" He ordered.
"Where?"
He gently led your thumb to the little needle in the center of the locket and pressed your thumb on it.
You yelped when your fingerpad made a contact with it, you pulled your hand away out of reflex to see that you had pricked your finger on the needle of the small clock inside the locket.
The drop of blood started filling the locket, crimson-colored liquid spread inside like a blooming flower then magically, the clock started ticking. The clock ran backward and that was when you realized that it was counting down the time to your death.
"13 days!" He said to you, opening your hand to place the locket on your palm.
You stared at the clock that counted down the time that led to your death.
Tick, tick, tick.
You had been wasting a full 60 seconds just staring at it in a mix of wonder and fear, you have a lot to say yet you were so speechless. You quickly shut the locket and put the chain around your neck, then you felt it, the weight of the pact you just made with the devil.
He helped you by fixing the hair caught in your necklace, "I brought just the right drink for the occasion!" He announced.
He poured wine into your mug in such elegance and didn't spill a drop by quickly spinning the bottle, then wiped it with a napkin.
You clank your mugs together since you don't have any wine glasses in the apartment.
"To cursed life!" He said as you both made a toast.
"To cursed life!" You repeated his words in a low, hesitated voice.
He sipped his wine and made it look like he sipped ambrosia in a goblet instead of wine in a mug.
"Having a second thought?" He asked, catching you holding the locket resting on your chest.
You quickly shook your head, "no."
"What are you going to do on your last few days in the mortal world?" He asked, tracing the rim of his mug with his index finger.
"Get my affairs in order," you replied, clasping your hands around your mug like you were seeking warmth from it.
"You need help?" He asked.
You awkwardly laughed, "what can you do?"
"I can do a little mischief here and there," he said, his finger flying to his lips, playing with the plump of his lower lip.
"That would be against my plan of 'going quietly'," you reminded him.
"What's with 'going quietly'? Why not 'go with a bang'?" He suggested, making a gesture of explosion above his head.
"I just..." you paused because you didn't know the answer. Why you should go quietly?
"I think it's easier that way," you replied with an answer that you weren't confident in.
He nodded and didn't ask further about it. He took another sip and let the silence hang in the air between you and him.
You looked at him, in his usual attire of black outfit and red hair slicked back, pale skin with eyes back to their intense black color.
And you wondered how he ended up here?
"What should I call you?" You suddenly asked him.
"You can call me baby, darling, love," he listed all the pet names he liked to be called with.
"I don't like to be called cutie, but for you, I'll allow it," he finished with a wide smile that made him look more human than he was supposed to be.
You rolled your eyes at him and inaudibly sighed.
"Hyunjin," he quickly said.
"You can call me Hyunjin," he said again while taking another sip of his wine.
You nodded, and that was enough information for the day. That he really is the devil, named Hyunjin and you just made a pact with him. Your eyes shot at the locket and at the reminder of it, you heard the sounds of the seconds being deducted from your life.
Tick, tick, tick.
-
D-13.
"That's a nice necklace!" Kim beamed the moment she noticed the necklace dangling around your neck.
"Oh, this?" You asked her.
"Is it vintage?"
"Uh..." you stalled to find an answer, "yes, I bought it online," you lied.
"That's so nice!" She praised.
"Text me the online shop cause I want one,"
You stifled a nod, "yes, I will," you lied again.
At this point, you didn't care about all the lies you tell people, you are going to burn in hell for eternity anyway.
You were coming back from lunch with Kim when you met Minho in the lobby, he looked like he was waiting for you from the way he got up from his seat the moment he saw you coming through the entrance.
"Hey, want to have coffee together?" He asked you.
Kim realized that he didn't ask for her to be present there and excused herself to go back to the office.
"Okay," you replied.
You had been sitting facing each other and the cups of iced coffee dripping wet from the condensation, you waited for him to say something with your hands clasped under the table.
"What is it, Minho?" You asked him because he kept quiet the whole time you sat there.
"You have something to say to me?"
It seemed like he was unable to decide what he wants to talk about first, you guessed he wanted to talk about yesterday.
"I wasn't planning on proposing to her," he blurted out.
You looked at him rather wide-eyed, didn't expect him to say it like that.
"I was planning on gift her a ring. Not proposing to her," he explained.
"But her parents were present and she got ecstatic the moment she saw it," he paused to catch a breath, "I couldn't just say that I didn't mean to propose to her, she looked so happy. I-"
"Minho, I'm not asking," you reminded him.
His face gradually turned sour, "I just thought that maybe I need to explain-"
"Whatever you do or did or done with your girlfriend is none of my business," you quickly told him, settling the matter before he pried more than you allowed him to.
Your words seemed to surprise him and he was quiet for a while, "I don't want things to change between us," he said.
You badly wanted to ask him what exactly you two have. What you are to him? And what he takes you for?
"What are you talking about? We'll always be good friends," you remarked with a sweet smile.
A smile bloomed on his face, "yeah, of course, we'll always be good friends, right?"
You nodded even though he clearly drew the invisible line that you shouldn't cross.
He took a long sip of his coffee and gasped in satisfaction, "I'm writing a special article," he said.
"Yeah?"
He nodded, "yes, it's for the spring special-themed article," he replied.
You stirred your iced coffee with the straw, making the ice cubes clink against the glass.
"That's great, Minho!" You complimented him without looking at him.
"Can you help me with it?" He asked.
"I like it when we work together," he added.
You stirred and stirred, watched as the coffee made a swirl inside your glass.
"Please?"
You stopped stirring when the coffee was about to slosh out of the glass, "sure, I'd love to," you said.
There you go, making the same mistake over and over again, despite knowing that you would only get pain in return.
-
You were brushing your teeth when you saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
You got startled that you spat onto the sink, "coming back from whispering evil deeds into people?" You sneered at him then washed your mouth with running water.
He folded his hands and leaned against the door of your bathroom, "yes, and I should've told you to throw your iced coffee at him," he sneered back.
You got quiet, he wasn't only spying on your life but also knew what happened between you and the people around you.
You got on your bed and covered your body up to your chest with the duvet.
"That's it for the day?" He asked you.
"I'm going quietly," you reminded him with your back facing him.
He softly chuckled, "Goodnight!"
You didn't reply but the lingering silence got you curious if he was still there watching you sleep. You turned on your bed but he was already gone.
-
D-12
You haven't gotten to your desk yet when you got called to the editor's office, papers flying in your direction the moment you got in.
"You called this a piece of writing?" He asked you, the veins on his neck popped and strained in rage.
You opened your mouth to speak but he cut off you again with his shout, "do it all over again!"
You picked up the paper from the floor and took it with you back to the desk, you saw that this wasn't even your writing, it was someone else's but he had done it a handful of times, which means he wanted you to fix the writing and rewrite it again.
"Why does he always blame you for the mistakes others did?" Kim nagged with her head snapped at the editor's office.
You shrugged.
"Why didn't you say something?" She said with exasperation.
"You know it's useless," you responded while stacking the paper by its order.
She heavily sighed but didn't say anything back because she also knew that the editor is a really stubborn piece of work.
You spaced out while clutching your locket on your chest, feeling the ticking with every breath you took.
You could feel every second without needing to open the locket.
Tick, tick, tick.
"I knew that you'll be here," Minho said as he found you waiting for the coffee machine done making the coffee.
You turned on your heels, "yes, hi," you nervously answered.
"Have you got your coffee yet? I want to show you something," he said.
You nodded and collected your mug filled with freshly made coffee, "yes."
He took you to his desk and showed you the article he was writing for the spring-themed article, you scanned the words but the lines kept slipping off your mind, unable to focus.
"Yes, it's good," you said to him.
"Are you sure?"
"Uhm..." you hummed in confusion, your hand flew to your temple but nothing came to mind.
"I'm sorry, I can't seem to focus," you gave up trying and apologized.
He smiled at you, "it's okay, we can work on it some other time," he assured you.
You smiled back at him and took your mug with you, "sorry," you muttered.
"Let's have lunch together!" He suggested again, stopping you on your track.
"I can't. I have a doctor's appointment," you told him and it felt good on rejecting him without having to lie.
"Oh? Okay," he replied.
You didn't have a doctor's appointment but the doctor kept on calling you to come to the hospital, probably his last endeavor to convince you to get treatment.
And you were right, "I have thought it over like you asked and my decision is final, I will not get treatments," you sternly told him.
He sighed in defeat, pulled his drawer open, and placed a brochure right in front of you.
"Will you at least consider coming to this?" He asked.
You could tell that the brochure was a support group for cancer patients and survivors. It was a hard pass but to put an ease on the doctor's mind, you smiled and said, "maybe I will," you answered.
You were reading a children's book for you to review when he came, reading the title of the book out loud, "Chase the end of the rainbow," he recited, then chuckled.
"There is literally nothing at the end of the rainbow," he sneered then plopped down on the single sofa.
"It's just rain and puddles," he added then put his long legs on the coffee table.
You lowered the book enough to look at him, "did you make anyone cry today?" You playfully asked.
"I broke the ice cream machine again," he bragged, "I think yes, a few people cried."
"How fun!" You exclaimed with fake enthusiasm then flipped the page of the book.
He watched you reading the book, then got curious about it, he sat next to you and leaned so close to you so he could read it too.
You could smell the faint of his natural scent, of something strong, a bit musk and smokey. You turned your head just enough to see him, the side profile of his perfectly sculpted face and its facial features that complement each other.
He is so beautiful, it didn't make sense to you.
You shut the book and gave it to him, "you can read it," you said to him then went to your bedroom.
"Goodnight!" He shouted to you before you shut your bedroom door.
-
D-11
"Hey, you haven't sent me the name of the shop for that beautiful necklace," Kim said as she placed a cup of iced coffee on your desk.
You faked an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, I forgot," you muttered.
"Thanks for the coffee!" You added and took a sip.
Kim leaned at your computer screen to read the article you were writing and read it loud enough for both of you, she sighed when she came to the end of the paragraph.
"Sometimes I wonder why you're stuck here with me," she mumbled with a hand on her waist.
"You're literally wasting your talent here," she said with a hand on your shoulder.
You could only smile at her but you were sure that a new job wouldn't make a difference anyway. The tumor would still be there in your brain and you still be as miserable as you were here so what's the point?
You were waiting for the elevator to arrive when Minho took your hand and grinned when you looked at him.
"Have lunch with me!" He said while shaking your hand.
You turned your head at Kim, "I'm going with Kim," you said.
Minho looked at her, "mind if I borrow her for today?" He sweetly asked.
Kim uneasily glanced at you and caught the signals you threw at her with your eyes, but she said the opposite thing, "sure."
Minho always looked more relaxed when her girlfriend isn't around, she was having a meeting outside of the office and that was also why he bravely took you out for a lunch.
"You don't like it?" He asked.
"I'm not that hungry," you replied. You've been eating your food little by little. It comes as no surprise that losing your appetite is also a side effect of dying.
He looked at you with his head slightly tipped to the side, "you look a little pale," he said.
You took a sip of water, "I've been having trouble sleeping," you said but didn't tell him it was because of the migraine that kept you awake.
He reached for your face and pressed the back of his hand, checking your temperature, "you're a bit warm," he said.
You put his hand away from your face and gently put it down on the table, "I'm okay. I'm alright," you assured him.
He doubted you but nodded, continued eating his food, and shifted the conversation elsewhere.
"Remember the second year of college? That time we got on the back of the pick-up truck with the stage props, it was raining and we were both sick with flu the next day," he was talking with a smile on his face like the memory was so vivid to him.
Yes, those days were the happiest because it was so much simpler back then. It was just you and him stressing over college and nothing else. There was little responsibility, no articles to write, there was no girlfriend who keeps him on a leash and you didn't know that there was a tumor growing in your brain.
"You were sick but you insisted on taking care of me," he suddenly got all serious.
You gripped the fork in your hand tighter because why did he take you on an unwanted trip down memory lane? Shouldn't he know that those memories would only be nothing more than just memories? Soon he'd be forgetting all about it as he makes new ones with his dear fiancé.
"I'm finished," you said, putting down your cutlery and sliding the plate aside.
"I'll take care of the bill!" You announced because you needed to be as far away as possible from him.
He grabbed you by the elbow, "I'll do it!"
"No, you finish your meal! I have to go to the restroom anyway," you said with a thin smile and put his hand away.
On the way back to the office, Minho talked about the article he was writing but your mind was elsewhere, drifting here and there.
"So, what do you think?" Minho asked.
"Mmh?"
He cracked a laugh, "you weren't listening," he meekly said.
You shoved your hands into your coat pockets, "I'm sorry."
"Have a lot in your head?"
Aside from the tumor? You asked in your head.
"Not really," you answered.
He pushed the door open and held it open for you.
"Shouldn't you have a lot in your head?" You asked back.
He scanned his ID card before entering the building, "what do you mean?"
"You know with the engagement and everything," you casually said.
You didn't mean to but he was the one who started talking about those days when in reality, those days are over and he should be worrying about the accidental engagement.
Minho got quiet but strangely, you didn't feel bad at all. The sound of the elevator dinging open saved Minho from the question and you both got into the elevator.
Right before the doors slid shut, you caught a red-haired man smiling at you from afar, so sinister like a Chesire cat.
Out of reflex, you clutched the locket on your necklace and felt the needles counting down the seconds of your life.
Tick, tick, tick.
"You have 11... uh no wait, 10 days more to live and your plan is to finish your favorite TV series," Hyunjin said as he plopped down on the sofa next to you and took a handful of popcorn from the bowl.
"Did you happen to whisper any evil things into my ear?"
His eyebrows knitted together, "where?"
"At the office."
"When?"
"A little after lunch."
He shook his head, "not sure," he vaguely answered and filled his mouth full of popcorn.
You looked at him and observed him, trying to figure him out.
He grabbed your chin, then turned your head to face the TV.
"If you're the devil that means you've been to hell?" You asked out of the blue.
"You make it sound like going to hell is a hospital visit," he said and slumped on the sofa.
"So?"
"I came from hell."
"You were born there?"
He shrugged and took another handful of popcorn.
"Is it really that hot?" You asked out of pure curiosity and did everyone a favor for asking it.
"You'll find out soon," he shortly replied.
You pouted but despite the disappointing answers, your curiosity remained the same.
"Do you mingle with humans?"
He leered at you, "mingle?"
"You know, have a relationship with human..." your words trailed off, again, this was out of pure curiosity.
"Like us?" he pointed to both you and him.
You snorted, "what we have is a business deal."
"Like you and Minho then?" He teased.
You grimaced, "pfft... I hope not."
He chuckled and tugged a popcorn between his teeth, "why are you so curious?"
You put the bowl of popcorn onto his lap so hard sending some of it falling onto the floor, "You know everything about my life but I don't know anything about you and I'm going to die in 10 days, so please, entertain this dying lady," you complained.
He gently placed a hand on your elbow and it felt hot but bearable, "no need to be that hopeless," he playfully said.
You glared at him.
"The answer is yes," he finally admitted.
That intrigued you, so he did mingle with humans and your focus next was to figure out what kind of relationship he's into.
"How?"
"How?"
You nodded.
"I don't think there are that many differences in how I have sex with how humans have sex," he casually said.
"Oh?" His answer took you aback.
"Oh!" You said again when it finally registered to you. So, it was all just physical to him. You didn't know why you expect more in the first place?
"What? You think I want to be romantically involved with the mortals?" He asked with a condescending smirk.
The way he said 'mortals' made it sound like humans are pathetic creatures just like how humans think of worms.
"Who knows?" You said with a shrug but deep down, you wished that he got karma for saying that.
He sighed and took the remote, replaying the episode from the beginning.
"Hey, I was watching that!" You said and tried to snatch the remote back from him.
"Be honest, you didn't watch any of it because you kept asking me questions," he said and hid the remote behind his back.
"How mature of you!" You sneered.
He stuck his tongue out at you in response.
You shook your head in disbelief that this entity sitting next to you is the devil and he came from hell.
-
D-10
You've been busy trying to finish an article since this afternoon and it seemed like you have to work overtime.
As soon as you finished and submitted it, your editor gave you another one to rewrite.
When you came back to your desk, Minho was there sitting on your desk and playing with your stress ball.
"Why are you here?" You asked and you didn't mean to be brash. It was just that everyone in the office already left and you were stuck there to pick up after someone's mess
If Minho wanted to remember the good old days with you, he should know that this wasn't the right time for it.
"I saw that your bag and coat are still here," he answered and got off your desk.
"I'm busy. I have to finish another article today," you simply said and hoping that he'd just leave you alone.
"Do you need help?"
"I'll handle it myself," you refused with a thin smile.
"Sure. I'm sure you can handle it well," he said but he seemed rather disappointed by the answer.
He smacked his lips together then he put a small paper bag on your desk, "this is for you!"
He slid the paper bag until it was right in front of you, "you said you have trouble sleeping so I bought you some chamomile tea and I think there are other kinds of tea too inside—"
He always does this, putting you on a pedestal, raising your hope and when you thought you stacked your hope high enough to reach him, he knocked it all down.
Over and over and over again and the end is always the same, he left you alone to pick up the pieces.
"You don't like it?" He asked since you got really quiet.
"I like it, thanks. But just stop," you replied and pushed the paper bag back to him.
"I bought it for you," he said and pushed it back to you.
You looked at him right in the eyes, "no. I want you to stop doing anything nice!" You enunciated every word so he heard you loud and clear.
He looked rather confused by what you said and cracked a laugh, "Why?"
"I just need you to stop being nice to me unless you're going to be with me," you dared to hold eye contact with him.
He cracked another laugh, probably thinking you were playing with him.
"You think I'm being funny?"
His laugh died down and his face turned serious.
"See? You can't keep being nice to me and I can't keep pretending that this is something that it's not!" You told him.
Since half of it already spilled out of your mouth, the rest would have to come out as well.
"We've been friends for years. You know me, you know who I am," your voice quivering because it hurts letting these words out of your chest, "you either want to be with me or not."
Minho opened his mouth to speak but close it again, when he managed to say something, he was stammering, "we're friends and I don't want to make it complicated—"
How dare he said all that when he's the one who had been playing with your feelings and made things complicated!
"Bullshit!" You cut him off midsentence, "it's just bullshit!"
It seemed like you just spat acid at him that he stood there with his feet nailed to the floor.
"Where is this coming from?" He probably couldn't believe that his friend who's always said yes to everything he said holding this much anger inside of her.
"From the place I've been hiding from you for about three years," it was painful to admit how miserable you were pining for him for the last three years.
"Three years because I haven't wanted to seem demanding and I haven't wanted to seem needy or pathetic or… whatever!"
The tears rolled down your cheeks and you wiped them with your knuckle, "so, I haven't asked you."
You stared into his eyes again, wide and surprised at your confession.
"But I..." the tears caught in your throat the more you tried to fight them, "I have to. I mean..."
Despite having an inkling of what his answer would be, you gave him another chance by asking him the only question he needed to answer once and for all.
"Do you want to be with me?"
From the silence that Minho let it went on too long, you knew what the answer is. It was exactly like you had predicted and he didn't need to say it out loud, you knew.
Tears streamed down your face and you looked down at your lap, hiding your sadness from him.
You quickly recovered, wiping your wet cheeks with the back of your hand, and looked at him again.
At that moment, you decided that it was time to put an end to this.
"I can't do this anymore, Minho."
You left him and went someplace to cry by yourself, consoled yourself with the fact that you can start letting him go. Years of loving him only brought you tears and pain.
Minho left the paper bag on your desk and you shoved it inside your drawer and started working on the second article before it got really late.
"Before you go home, can you do another one?" Your editor asked as you've just submitted the article.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir!"
His forehead creased, unamused by your answer, "what are you talking about?"
As you worked by yourself at your desk while crying from breaking up with someone who's not even your boyfriend, Kim's words replayed in the back of your head. She spoke the truth that day, that you've been wasting your talent here and no one even had an ounce of respect for you in there.
And you came to a decision to, "I quit," you said and handed him the freshly printed resignation letter.
"Thank you for these past..." you paused to think of a word to describe your experience of working in this office and none came to mind except negative words.
"...wonderful years, sir!" You decided to end it with a nice note because you weren't the same with them but you didn't wait for his approval.
You let out a big sigh when you got out of his office, packed your things, and left.
You used to think that losing a job is a frightening thing but after you did it, it wasn't that bad at all. The world is still spinning and the sky isn't falling down on you. If anything, you have fewer things to worry about.
You sat on the balcony with a blanket wrapped around you, looking out at the view and the night sky.
Funny that you missed having Hyunjin around when all he does is annoy you.
This empty space only made you think of what happened that day, with you and Minho, and how things ended.
Maybe you were selfish for wanting him but he has no right to toy with your feelings, maybe you did ruin years of friendship but it felt so right.
Yet you were crying as you curled up on the bed and the tears seeped into your pillow.
A part of you was glad that Hyunjin wasn't there. You could imagine him making fun of you for looking so miserable on your last days on earth.
-
D-9
You forgot that you're unemployed, you woke up, showered, and cooked breakfast then when it hits you that you didn't have to go to work, you have no idea what to do next.
You might be dying but how could you forget being a normal person?
You ended up watching TV and ate the endless supply of tangerines your mom secretly put in your fridge. You napped and ordered lunch, watched some more TV, read some news on the internet, ate some more tangerines, and tried to cook yourself dinner.
You gave up when you couldn't find anything in your fridge. Your mom is right, it was an alarming thing to see an empty fridge.
"How do you like your unemployment?" Hyunjin appeared when you closed the fridge.
You sighed and took your phone, scrolling down the list of restaurants to order your dinner. "Fantastic!" You replied but with a deadpan.
He leaned on the kitchen island and looked at your phone screen, "Let's have some meat for dinner!"
You tipped your phone and got it out of his sight, continued scrolling.
When the food came, you spread them on the table in the living room and sat on the floor. You treated yourself to a big dinner since it was your first day of unemployment. From the amount of food you ordered, they put in three pairs of chopsticks and Hyunjin successfully secured a pair.
"You can't finish all this food by yourself," he said with squinted eyes then tore open the paper wrapper with his teeth.
You ignored him and started opening the lids, sending the mouth-watering smell wafting around the room. You slapped Hyunjin's hand as he went straight for the sliced meat.
You hissed, reminding him who had the right to eat it first since you bought it and doing so with a smirk on your face while he waited for you to finish, tugging the end of the chopsticks between his teeth.
"Can I have it now?" He asked.
Something about him reminded you of that naughty kid you knew in kindergarten, who liked to scare you by holding a caterpillar close to your face with a stick. He's annoying but in the most childish way and that was strange when you remembered that he came from hell.
"You were so cool yesterday," he said with a mouth full of rice but managed to put on a proud grin at you.
You continued eating but listened intently to what he said with stuffed cheeks.
"Breaking up with Minho," he continued.
"Oh wait, is it called breaking up even though you're not dating?"
You stabbed a piece of omelet with your chopsticks and ate it in one bite.
"I think you're the coolest when you..." he put down his chopstick and demonstrated how you slammed the resignation letter on your boss's desk.
"That's so badass!" He added in awe.
You couldn't remember the last time someone complimented you and how nice it feels, you didn't want to show him that so you suppressed your laugh by stuffing your mouth with more food.
"But winter isn't really a good time to quit your job you know," he continued, "I heard you spend more money during the winter because of gas, electricity..."
You blocked his chopsticks from taking more food and put them away, glaring at him.
He grinned at you with apologetic eyes, "I mean... why don't you get another job?"
"Why should I?" You simply asked.
He shrugged, "you have that thing called what... ambition or something like that."
"I'm not that ambitious," you said and it was true, you have enough from living day to day.
"If a painter dreams of having their paintings hung in the Louvre then a writer like you must have dreamed of seeing your writing somewhere, right?" He asked again.
It took you back to when you were in college and thinking of getting a job as a writer. You did the internship intending to fill in your resume and what happened years after that, let's say you were foolish enough for following a man and not your dream. You do have one and it is to write for the Daily K newspaper.
"I do," you answered.
He pointed his chopsticks at you, "Why don't you try to apply for a job there?"
You took a sip of water and thought why do you bother trying, it's a shot in the dark.
"I only have to live for a few more days anyway," you answered with a shrug.
"That's the point! You only have a few more days to live so you have nothing to lose, right?" He was talking but his eyes were looking at the last piece of meat and he knew that you noticed.
When you thought about it again then yes, you have nothing to lose. You can apply for a job and whether you got accepted or not, it wouldn't hurt since you'll be leaving the world forever.
You pushed the plate with the last piece of meat at him.
A smile rose on his face with his eyes formed two crescent moons.
How long was it since the last time you updated your resume? It was a long time ago that you couldn't remember it and you've been staring at your laptop screen, didn't know what to do with it.
"Shouldn't you be like... write something about yourself?" Hyunjin said, lying on the sofa and flicking the channels on the TV while you sat on the carpeted floor.
"Yeah sure, my bleak life story would make them hire me," you sneered and propped a hand under your chin, still trying to come up with something to write.
"Maybe all you need is a shot of courage!" Hyunjin said.
You looked over your shoulder but he was no longer on the sofa, he was there in the kitchen holding a bottle of tequila at you.
"No thanks!" You turned down his idea straight away and looked back at your laptop, still having no idea what to write. "Where did you find it though?"
He uncapped the bottle, "it was hidden under the sink," he said and poured himself a shot of tequila.
Ah, you remembered that's where you hide your alcohol just in case your mom is coming unannounced and doing an inspection around your place.
He hissed after taking a shot and looked at you, "you sure you don't want it?"
"Nah."
"To relax the nerves?" He persuaded you once more and shook the bottle at you, his red hair looking like a swaying flame under the fluorescent light.
It was really tempting and you really did need a shot of courage, "I can't do this sober anyway," you finally caved in.
Hyunjin brought the bottle and two shot glasses to the living room with a grin on his face. He initiated a toast, raising his shot glass in the air, and said, "To cursed life!"
You clank your drink with his and meekly repeated his words, "To cursed life!"
You were too confident in yourself and could handle the alcohol well since you had a big dinner earlier. Somehow, your brain worked after a few shots and your fingers started typing nonstop. When you were done, you read it out loud to Hyunjin and asked for his opinions.
"Booooooring!" He booed, stacking his hands together and putting his chin on top.
"You should write it how you would write an article for them," he said, his plush lips red and puckered.
"Can you even get drunk?"
He closed his eyes, then grinned, "No."
You scoffed and started writing again while Hyunjin refilled both of your glasses with more alcohol. He really is the goddamn devil that you couldn't keep track of how many shots you have taken. It was blurry from there, your fingers didn't feel like they were typing but you saw how the page slowly filled with words.
You remembered reading it to him after and he laughed. You didn't know what was so funny about all this but you laughed to the point that you almost spit your drink. You both huddled in front of your laptop together and drank more tequila straight from the bottle in turns.
"This is it!" He said.
"I don't know. This sounds... so..."
"Out of this world?"
You laughed.
"Send it!"
You moved the cursor to the send button.
Hyunjin brought his mouth close to your ear, "hit the send button!"
You shivered, "oh, the devil's whisper!"
"Hit it!" He said right into your ear, a little louder.
You pushed him away while giggling and covered your ears, "okay, okay!"
You squinted your eyes with your finger only an inch away from clicking, sending in your resume through an email.
When you opened your eyes, there was a pop-up notification that the email has been sent.
"Oh fuck!" You sighed and lay yourself down on the carpeted floor.
Hyunjin lay there next to you, "see? It's not that hard!"
You stared at the ceiling with your eyes started drooping, "I'm so tired."
"You should go to bed it's cold in here," Hyunjin nudged your shoulder with his.
But it felt comfortable and you could barely keep your eyes open anymore.
"I'm sleepy," you whined.
"It's cold!" He grumbled.
Without opening your eyes, you grabbed his arm and held it close. His body heat was enough to keep you warm.
"It's warm now," you slurred and started to slowly drift into sleep.
-
D-8
You woke up with a cold sweat and fumble to get off the bed, then reality hits you like a bucket of cold water.
"Fuck, I keep forgetting that I'm unemployed," you groaned and went back to sleep.
You woke up after a few more hours of sleep and ordered lunch right away. Ignoring the mess from last night, an empty bottle of tequila, the dirty dishes on the table, and your laptop died from running out of battery.
Your head was pounding but you knew that it was not the usual migraine, it was the hangover.
You took a shower next, trying to get rid of the alcohol stinks, and washed the hangover away.
You felt a little better in the afternoon but your stomach still felt a little sick. You opened the fridge to only groan at how empty it was except for the bottles of water and a half box of tangerines.
You rummaged through the box of your office stuff and found the paper bag Minho gave to you that day. There were boxes of different kinds of teas inside with the name of the tea and what it's good for written on each box.
Putting your pride aside and making yourself a cup of chamomile tea, the smell of it instantly relaxed you.
"Make a cup for me too!" Hyunjin said, lying on the sofa with his hands under his head.
"Make one yourself!" You said and took a small sip of your tea.
"I feel like dying here!" He whined while lying sideways on the sofa like he was posing for a photoshoot.
"No offense," he quickly added at the end of the sentence.
You took another sip and felt better already, or you suggested to your brain that it was working on you.
"None taken!" You plainly answered.
He got up from the sofa and stretched out his long arms, his red hair messy on the back, "what's for dinner?"
That reminded you to start looking at restaurant menus, went to your bedroom to get your phone, and saw two missed calls from Kim.
You were about to hit a call back when the doorbell rang.
"Is that the food?" Hyunjin asked from the living room.
You got out of the bedroom while holding your phone, "I haven't ordered yet," you answered.
You came to the door and opened it, got stunned at the person behind it.
He was the last person you wanted to see but there he was, standing in front of you, Minho.
"Can I come in?" He asked with a smile.
You let him in because it's basic etiquette, you wanted to be polite, nothing more than that.
Hyunjin was already gone when you got back inside but Minho saw the paper bag he gave you on the kitchen island.
"You were having tea?" He asked.
You didn't want to give him the satisfaction that you cherished the things he gifted for you but it was too late to hide it. You decided to play coy, "you want one?"
"Yes, please!"
You went behind the kitchen island and made him a cup of tea, doing it to ignore looking him in the eyes because you knew what those eyes can do to you.
You kept doing it when you served the steaming hot cup of tea to him.
"Thank you," he muttered but didn't take a seat on the chair.
You stood there next to the dining table, suddenly feeling like you were the one visiting his house and not the other way around.
"You are eventually going to look at me, aren't you?" He asked.
So he noticed that you've been trying to avoid them, you took a deep breath to finally look him in the eyes. There was a part of you that was glad of seeing him again and you hated yourself for it.
"I came here because I had to see you," he began, taking out the hands that has been deep inside his jeans pockets.
"Had to," he emphasized.
And that part has taken a bigger part of you the longer you stared into his eyes.
"I just don't understand this," you said.
You put your hand on the table for support as you felt like you were about to crumble down all over again.
"I mean... I was right there for years, remember?"
Even the soothing smell of the tea didn't work on relaxing you anymore.
"'This was a mistake' that's what you said to me once, that we weren't right for each other."
He looked a bit perplexed, lost in your words. "Well, I don't remember that," he innocently said.
Unlike you, he wouldn't remember saying that but you remembered how and when he said it, how those three words stuck with you ever since.
He took a step closer and placed a hand on yours, "I just know that I hated when you're gone."
He held your gaze before continuing to talk, "I kept looking at your desk at work and it was driving me crazy that I wasn't hearing from you."
He puts his forehead on yours and sighed in relief as he has just found a haven, "I don't want to lose you."
You were on the verge of plunging into another heartbreak but at the same time, couldn't say no to the thrill, "Oh... Minho," you said so hopelessly. And you hated yourself for letting him get to you, holding you by your neck, and winning your heart all over again.
"Come here," he held your face in your hands and leaned in, putting his lips on you, tearing down your guard like it was nothing but a mere warning sign.
Here you were, letting him take you to your bed and kiss all of your doubts away.
The shape of his body fits you perfectly as he lay there next to you and held you close, if this was a mistake then why it feels so right?
You pulled away to catch a breath and looked at him again to confirm that you weren't imagining it.
"I'm taking a long break at the end of the year," he said.
His hand splayed on your back with his thumb teasing the hem of your t-shirt, "I was thinking we can go on a trip together," he came up with the plan out of the blue.
"Somewhere warm with good food. Somewhere where I can see you wearing that red swimsuit I gave you," he added and pecked your lips. He once gave you a pair of swimsuits on your birthday since you planned on taking a summer vacation but the trip was canceled because your father got sick.
"What do you think?" He asked.
The invite came too suddenly and the end of the year was a month away, you only have a week in your life but sure, a trip with him, anywhere it is would be nice.
"It sounds great," you replied.
He puts a strand of hair away from your face before placing a gentle kiss.
"Do you mean that? I mean, are you free to do that?" You asked because you still couldn't process this, him coming and he made out with you on your bed, then asking you to come on a trip with him.
"Well, I came here to see you. I'm here now," he said and pecked your lips again.
You got a little uneasy from his vague answer and jerked your head back, "that didn't exactly answer my question."
You propped your elbow against the mattress and put a space between you and him, "does this mean you're not engaged anymore? I mean, you come here to tell me that, right?"
Minho sighed with his eyes closed and placed a hand on your shoulder, "I wish you could just accept knowing how confused I am about all this."
You shrugged his hand off your shoulder, "so you are still engaged?"
He took a second, "yes, but—"
"Oh my God!" You groaned and couldn't be faster to get off the bed, you stumbled to stand on your feet.
Minho fumbled to get up as well and sat on the edge of the bed.
"You were right about us... this was a mistake," you meekly said.
"You didn't mean that," he refused to believe you said that.
You raked your hair and tried to gather your thoughts, "I'm about three years late in telling you this but Minho, you broke my heart so many times."
You held yourself back from snapping at him by taking a deep breath, "and you acted like somehow it was my fault, my misunderstanding, and I was too in love with you to ever be mad at you. So I just punished myself for years!"
"No, I didn't—"
You didn't want to give him a chance to interrupt you so you kept going, "then you came here and told me that you don't want to lose me whilst you're still engaged to someone," you spat the fact right at his face.
It had been like that for years but that was the first time that everything became clear to you.
"It's over, Minho," you said.
He grabbed your hands and opened his mouth to speak.
You shook your head and let go of his hands, "I'm done being in love with you."
You went out of the bedroom and took his coat from the sofa, then walked to the threshold knowing that he'll follow you there.
"What's going into you?" Minho asked and it was his usual card trick that is playing the victim again.
"A realization that I've got a life to start living and you're not going to be in it, that's what got into me," you answered, handed him his coat, and opened the door for him.
He took a long, hard look at you with eyes that always work to soften your edges but it seemed like the magic has worn off.
You showed his way out with your hand and stared at him with hatred in your eyes.
There was an intense staring contest happening for a while until he reluctantly took his coat and stepped out of the door, turning around to see you for one last time.
Before he could say anything, you got ahead of him and said, "Goodbye!"
You shut the door right in his face, walked back to the living room, and lay down on the sofa. You planted your face into a cushion then screamed at the top of your lungs. You kept doing it until you ran out of breath and your throat burned dry.
"Fucking asshole," you cursed when you got up from the sofa, then started pacing around the house trying to burn the rage inside you.
"Shit! Fucking asshole! What a fucking jerk! Fuck! Argh!!!" You took the cushion and started squeezing it until it turned misshapen.
"Maybe you should make a new cup of tea!" Hyunjin said from the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sipping his tea.
"That goddamn tea!" You grumbled through your gritted teeth and shoved the tea back into the paper bag, throwing the whole thing into the trash bin.
"You can have mine then!" He offered.
You couldn't stay still, you kept pacing around with your hands balled into fists and ready to throw a punch if you have to, "argh... I have to—"
You have so much rage inside you but didn't know how to let it out, "I want to break things and scream and punch something without worrying my neighbors."
"Or maybe sit down and have a glass of water," Hyunjin suggested but doing it so calmly because he enjoyed the sight.
"I swear if I don't get it out, I'm going to fucking explode," you angrily told him with clenched jaws.
You got your coat and headed out of the door, walking aimlessly while carrying your rage inside your chest.
You ended up in a batting cage, you just wanted to tire yourself out with physical stuff and hope the rage would die down eventually.
You don't know how to play baseball but you kept batting the ball so hard and loud that it made a ringing sound and when the pitching machine stopped.
You turned at Hyunjin, "again!" You said, signaling him to put the coin into the machine.
You kept playing until there was no energy left in you and your palms were blistering from gripping the bat so hard and shaking since you didn't have dinner yet.
"Here!" Hyunjin said, handing you cold cans of beer.
You took them and held them in your hands to soothe the blisters, sighing at how good they felt.
Hyunjin opened a can for himself and started drinking, "feel better now?"
The exhaustion did work to make you forget that you were mad but it was still there, you could feel it in the pit of your stomach.
You opened a can in your hands and took a long gulp, gasping when you swallowed it all down.
"You know, he's the first and the only person I have had sex with," you blurted out.
You stared at the night sky and there was no stars or moon, only the vast darkness.
"And that's when he said it..."
You turned at Hyunjin and his red hair looking like cotton candy under the bright neon lights.
"This was a mistake," you enunciated the words one by one with a feeling like someone squeezed your heart dry when you said it.
"Since then I kept asking myself. Was it the sex? Was I not attractive enough? Was it my body? Was it me?" you rubbed your temple and sniffled, either from the cold or you were about to cry.
"A girl like me just couldn't forget such words," you said and took a small sip of your beer, you wiped the drop that escaped the corner of your mouth.
"I told him about it earlier and he said he couldn't remember saying that to me," you said in disbelief with creases on your forehead.
Tears just rolled down your cheeks like a bursting dam and you couldn't fight them but let them flood.
"How could I love such a man for three goddamn years?" You croaked and rested your forehead on Hyunjin's shoulder, closing your eyes and crying.
“I’m so fucking stupid,” you cursed yourself with a lot of regrets woven in your words.
Hyunjin put his arm around you and pulled you closer, letting you bury your head in his chest, helping you hide your sadness from the world. He kept quiet and calmly drank his beer, listening to your crying while sitting together on a bench outside a convenience store.
Your tears seeped into his clothes but in return, you felt the warmth of his embrace.
He let out a long sigh and said, "Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur."
He spoke Latin like he was a native and it sounded so beautiful coming out of his mouth, not to mention his gorgeous lips that are as red as his hair.
"Even God finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time," he translated it.
It was surprising that it was coming from him, the last person you ever wanted to hear words of comfort from yet here he was, resting his head against yours and kept shielding you from the cold, the heartbreak, and the world.
-
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#stray kids smut#skz smut#hyunjin smut#skz hyunjin smut#hyunjin x reader#skz x reader#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#skz fics#skz fanfics#kpop smut#kpop fics#kpop fanfics#seospicy smut
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Drabble: you can see Death's son
pairing | death junior x reader
Warnings: stalking, junior being a little obsessive but he's sweet and innocent, supernatural elements
A/N: Bro I just discovered this short film like yesterday and cranked out this small drabble. It's called At Death's Door (1999), where Cillian Murphy plays as some sort of grim reaper. He doesn't have a name in the film, so I made up Death Junior lol. That's his name now, okay?
No one was supposed to be able to see him. As the son of the Death, he was granted the gift of free passage, to travel between the realms of humans and spirits, unseen, like a gentle breeze in the wind. In the few years he had lived — albeit not many — he had come and gone, guiding souls to the beyond, and passing unnoticed by the living. It wasn’t until one fateful day near the end of Autumn did that change. It was the day you saw him; a girl, a mere mortal, whose eyes had somehow been blessed upon his image.
He stood, mouth slightly agape, pink lips chapped. He turned around, to see if you were looking at something else, but when he saw no one behind him, he knew without a doubt that it was him you were staring at. Beyond sight, he could feel it in his belly, a churning.
This is not right, he thought. This is not right.
You were at the other end of the trail. It was a park, bare trees stripped of their sunset colors, fallen to the ground all crunched and brown. Green grass spread till it reached the surrounding roads, but there was plenty of space in between, where people were eating at picnic benches or playing with their dogs. You had been going for a run, with sweat beading down your forehead and labored breathing, when you stopped for a break and glanced upon him.
You had given a quick smile, and the world stopped. Who were you? An angel, perhaps, come to steal him away. Or maybe a devil. He could not tell.
“Are you alright?”
Gentle sound, beautiful. It broke him out of his thoughts, and back to your eyes. You were now standing just a few feet away from him.
He didn’t say anything, his lips still parted. He was dressed in all black, collared shirt, dress pants, polished shoes, and a scythe — his father’s scythe, though he hoped to make his own one day. He must have stood out like a sore thumb amongst all these bubblegum shirts and ripped blue jeans and fanny packs and whatever these people had in fashion these days. It was always changing.
“I — do you need help? You look a little lost.”
Say something, he thought. He’d been around humans enough to understand how to speak to them, and his own family very much modeled a stereotypical Victorian bunch. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know how to, rather that he had a lump in his throat that prevented him from doing so.
“I’m sorry for bothering you, sir.”
He panicked. “No,” he blurted out, voice soft. He couldn’t let you leave. He just couldn’t. “What’s your name?”
You paused, then told him. In his mind, he repeated the word over and over again, like a religious mantra. He had always found names to be beautiful. They all meant different things and were attuned to culture and heritage. Even though there might be a million people sharing the same one, it was still yours. Like property.
“And you?”
He thought for a moment. He didn’t really have one. As much as he appreciated them, he had never thought of having his own. To him, a name was something he could not claim. Why should he even have one in the first place? He was always referred to as Son, and similarly, he referred to his parents as Mother and Father. That was enough, wasn’t it?
“I don’t . . . I don’t have one,” he said.
“Ah.” You nodded your head. “Shall I call you Reaper? Or Grim? You know, because of your costume? I like it, by the way. Most people have robes or chains, but this is simple, funeral-ish.”
Robes and chains. Oh, he hated the days when he had to wear those. They were so heavy on him, a personal punishment. The burden of the metal was the burden of his purpose, a constant reminder. And the hood, it always shrouded his line of vision. He was glad it wasn’t as popular as it was hundreds of years ago, otherwise he would be forced to wear it now.
“I’m not the Grim Reaper,” he clarified. “I’m his son.”
“I didn’t know he had one. So you’re Death Junior, then? I can call you that if you like it.”
Junior, he thought. June-e-er.
He nodded his head slowly. It wasn’t much of a name, more of a title.
“You live around here?”
He nodded again. It wasn’t the full truth, but if you were going to be here often then so would he.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you again. Have a nice day, Junior.”
You smiled, again, and picked up your pace, heading down the trail. Within a minute you were out of view, and he felt an odd feeling rise in his heart. This was not enough. He needed more. To at least just be in your presence.
He adjusted the grip on his scythe and followed after you. No one gave him so much as a look, which all the more validated his decision like he wasn’t doing anything wrong. But even if he was, he still found it okay. It was his curiosity, his innocence, that led him to your small apartment, maybe even a hint of longing, an ache.
For the entire night, he watched as you bathed, dressed, cooked, and finally, went to sleep, with the television on in the background. Apart from observing your essence of being, he wondered what it would be like to be there with you. To help you scrub yourself down with soap, take your clothes down to the laundry room and fold them, help you with dinner, feel your embrace in bed.
Junior, he thought again. Maybe it was like a name. A name you had given him. Maybe one day this Junior could be just like you. With you, with the girl who could see him.
Taglist: @shroombloom-rry @madnessandobsession @henrywintersdearestgirl @hllywdwhre @your-nanas-house @ellebelleshelby @meetmeatyourworst @hanawrites404 @Emimurphy2008
#death junior#death junior x you#death junior x y/n#death junior x reader#fanfiction#at death's door#pinguwrites
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The Historical Accuracy of Kirsten's Dirndl
Despite its adorableness, I have seen many people complain about Kirsten's Swedish Dirndl outfit.
I would kill a man to have bought this for $22.
She wears this outfit for most of Meet Kirsten, being that she is an impoverished immigrant child who does not own any other clothes, and also for continuity reasons.
Frequently, I have seen it claimed that this outfit is not historically accurate and should not have been included as part of her collection. Conversely, I have also seen many German folk costumes marketed as being made for Kirsten. Both of these pain me a great deal (actually they just annoy me).
Nonetheless, I have decided to further procrastinate doing actual, meaningful work and instead set out on a new mission: figure out what the fuck is up with Kirsten's Dirndl.
In this post, I will lay out the research I have done, the evidence supporting the historical accuracy of this outfit, the challenges to its existence, and ultimately aim to answer the question of whether this outfit is one Kirsten plausibly could have worn on her journey from Sweden to America in 1854.
Let's begin.
First, the name. Pleasant Company/American Girl referred to this outfit as "Kirsten's Swedish Dirndl and Kerchief."
Unfortunately, there is no such thing as a Swedish dirndl. "Dirndl" is a German term, and refers to folk costumes worn by people in German-speaking areas of Europe (the Alps, Bavaria, Austria, and so on).
Kirsten is Swedish, and before Meet Kirsten has never left Sweden before. It is very unlikely she would have acquired, and regularly worn, a German dirndl. See this gorgeous example of a dirndl c. 1840:
Outfit, c. 1840. Munich, Bavaria, Germany. Münchner Stadtmuseum.
This ensemble is beautiful, but tragically, it is not what Kirsten is wearing.
What, then, is Kirsten wearing? What kind of traditional dress does Swedish culture have?
As it turns out, the proper term for what she is wearing is a folkdräkt. This is a Swedish term meaning "folk costume." Here is an illustration depicting multiple examples of Swedish folk costumes. In proper terms, these would be called "Svenska folkdräkter."
Nordisk familjebok (1908), vol. 8, Folkdräkt. Retrieved from runeberg.org.
These outfits are not quite identical to anything we see in Kirsten's collection, but you can observe various elements that have carried over -- the vertical stripes, black woolen skirts with ornate trim, and white dresses and red sashes (hello St. Lucia)!
Let us dive deeper. What do extant Svenska folkdräkter, specially those made c. 1850, look like? Is there anything like Kirsten's outfit among surviving examples?
Johan Sodermark, "Kvinna i dräkt."
In my few hours of research, this example image is the closest thing I have found to Kirsten's dirndl.
This lovely portrait is a watercolor from 1850 painted by Johan Sodermark. It is very creatively titled "Kvinna i dräkt" -- literally, "Woman in costume." The pattern of this woman's apron is incredibly similar to that of the skirt of the Kirsten doll's outfit -- a dark red base with blue and yellow stripes woven throughout.
Here is a closeup from the American Swedish Institute.
Although it is not shown in the doll-sized version of the outfit, the illustrations in Meet Kirsten by Renée Graef show us she also wears a light-colored, striped apron, which is almost surely the one that comes with her meet outfit.
Illustrations from Meet Kirsten, drawn by Renée Graef.
Notice the fabric of the bodice in the third illustration, though: Kirsten's top is made of red plaid fabric, while Sodermark's girl has an outfit full of stripes. Kirsten, bless her heart, spends an entire book outfit-repeating a potential pattern-mixing fail: plaid and two kinds of stripes and a floral scarf. Did Pleasant Rowland just hate her? Is Kirsten on another, elevated fashion plane far beyond my comprehension? Is there a historical basis for this combination of patterns?
I have no answer to the first two questions, but thankfully can speak on the third.
Komplett Vilskedräkt, Västergötlands museum. Some pieces c. 1865.
The top is plaid and laces up, which is not necessarily the most common way of fastening (in most examples, the bodice pins up), but it is a sensible choice considering both Kirsten's age (9) and the fact that Pleasant Company was making toys for little hands.
The model for the outer shell (the lace up top) belonged to Karl Edberg from Hällestad; it is not dated, but at least one piece of this set (the bag, which is not shown) is c. 1865. Additionally, the blouse here is very similar to the one that comes with Kirsten's winter outfit -- look at that keyhole neckline!
So, Kirsten's Dirndl outfit is actually very accurate as far as the clothing itself goes...the name remains the trouble.
I have no idea why they called it a dirndl. Folkdräkt is definitely challenging to pronounce, but why wouldn't PC just translate it as "folk dress" or "Swedish outfit" and call it a day? Why the insistence on referencing a culture that isn't relevant to the doll or her dress at all?
Perhaps this is a mystery to tackle for another day...
#kirsten larson#kirsten#american girl#pleasant company#meet kirsten#american girl kirsten#american girl dolls#agig#ag doll#ag dolls#american girl history#historical characters#1854#rambles#kirsten 1854#historical clothing#historical fashion#american girl analysis#renee graef#swedish historical fashion#folk dress#pleasant rowland#ag tumblr#ag on tumblr#american girl doll tumblr
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Daylight
Part: 3/?
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Category: Social Media au
Summary: Follow the love story of a global pop icon and a monegasque F1 driver
Face claim: Taylor Swift (Singing) + others
Masterlist
2019
yourusername:
liked by charles_leclerc, beyonce and 9 024 358 others
yourusername:
The day is here! Stream Lover on all platforms today. This album is my heart and soul poured into melodies, capturing the love I share with my forever love and muse, Charles.
Every song is a journey through our story, the lyrics describe how utterly and irrevocably in love I am with this man. He came into my life during some of my darkest times like the sun peeking through the clouds on a rainy day. Charles, I once believed love would be burning red like a fire, intense and short lived but you've shown me that it's golden like daylight, soft and long lasting. Thank you for choosing me to be your forever love.❤️
view comments:
blakelively: What a beautiful album!🩷
charles_leclerc: Couldn't be prouder of you mon amour❤️
pierregasly: Amazing album, still can't believe it's about Charles but oh well🤷♂️
- yourusername: hahahah thank you Pear🤩
- charles_leclerc: really Pierre🙁
scuderiaferrari: We will be playing it on repeat in the garage for the foreseable future
- mercedesamgf1: smae
- redbullracing: same
- tororosso: same
- alfaromeostake: same
- mclaren: same
- icemanfan: I love how all the teams love Y/N🤣
slaybastianvettel: This album!!!!! I NEED MYSELF A CHARLES RIGHT TF NOW!!!
y/n_culture: I've never seen her this happy. She literally wrote an entire love album, not song, ALBUM for him!!😭
charles_leclerc
liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 1 824 932 others
charles_leclerc: My wonderful girlfriend just released her newest album Lover. Go listen to it on all platforms today!
Y/N, your talent and your grace is unbelievable. The things you've accomplished are incredible and you deserve every bit of praise and success that the world has to offer. It's an honor to have been the inspiration for this album and to have the privilege of being by your side.❤️
view comments:
yourusername: My forever❤️
arthur_leclerc: cheesy🥴
- charles_leclerc: Shut up Arthur🙄
danielricciardo: What you did to deserve that girl is beyond me🧐
liked by charles_leclerc
charles_lec_lec: Damn he's a keeper😍
- lando_bbg: he's the blueprint fr😍
Honey_daniel: I want what they have🤧
pierregasly:
liked by yourusername, charles_leclers and 838 347 others
pierregsaly: Go check out Y/N new album full of extremely cheesy songs about her and Charles. I never thought I would like the girl that stole my best friend but turns out she is 100x cooler than him. 😎
view comments:
yourusername: thx ig🤨
- pierregasly: you're very welcome🤩
charles_leclerc: Why are everyone bullying me??😅
- yourusername: sorry baby, you just make it so easy to😘
- arthur_leclerc: because you suck
- trybeingredbull: omg Athur💀
- may_leclercish: Her and Pierre 🤧
arthur_leclerc:
liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 237 824 others
arthur_leclerc: so my (future) sister (in law) just dropped an album about my brother which is absolutely disgusting but it's pretty good, 10/10 would recommend!
view comments:
yourusername: Arthur... what is that picture of me??😀
- arthur_leclerc: just wanted to capture your esscence and natural beauty😘😘
- yourusername: I hate you
- arthur_leclerc: no you don't😘
- yourusername: no I don't🫶
ferrarigalsunite: the way he put "future" and "in law" in parentacies because he sees her as a sister. Brb just gonna cry for a bit🤧
charles_leclerc: did you steal my banana costume??😃
- yourusername: noOoo, I would never do such a thing🤠
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc social media au#charles leclerc#formula 1#formula one#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1
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