#Ao3 Version will also be updated as well
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The Witcher Fanstory - Ioroche Fic: 'Fate Never Comes by Accident' - (Part 1 of ?)
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Notes:
Iorveth/Vernon relationship
Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics
Alpha Iorveth and Omega Vernon
1 of ? parts
For @chamotea, @apastandfuturenerd and other Ioroche Shippers out there
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Summary:
For a long time, Vernon Roche - Temerian Commander of the Blue Stripes, Foltest's Hound and right-hand man - has been hiding his status as Un-mated Omega, even though in the past King Foltest ordered for his Scent-gland to be 'Cut' and his Crest Fronds on the nape of his neck to be 'Scarred' so that he didn't send Foltest's men into a rut-filled frenzy - until one day he returns to a place where he first met his long-term enemy - Iorveth.
Complicated issues arise though when Vernon, experiences Heat-sickness; rumours spread that Nilfgaard is spreading it's way across the map and plan to attack Vergen next and Aen Seidhe Alpha finds himself falling for his long-term enemy.
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PART 1 - Prologue - 'Returning to a Place where One First met their Enemy'
"Water's cold as hell. Come on, witcher!" Vernon Roche - Temeria Commander of the Blue Stripes, hidden Omega and Un-Mated - shouts up at the white-haired Witcher, who is taking his sweet time in the large boat bearing on the large sail the crest of the Temerian lilies busy making sure everything is sorted - before joins him and Triss - the female Sorceress, who had decided to accompany them both.
It meant to just be him and Geralt doing some 'Reconnaissance' only for Triss Merigold - a Beta, thankfully and not an Alpha as he didn't need two on the ship it would just cause problems even though he never gone into Heat for quite some ever since Foltest had turn the 'Scent-Gland Cutting' process do him not wanting an Un-Mated Omega sending his men into a Rut-filled frenzy - to decide she was coming with them and she want take them saying 'No' to her about it.
" Your witcher's arse is going to have to get wet. Jump." He shouts up, seeing Geralt looking down at them then swing himself effortlessly over the side of the boat to splash right beside him with his Alpha scent less dulled - which meant the wee flask he seen the Witcher taking was Pheromone Nuller, to help null the scent of an Alpha or Omega - where soon the three of them head wade out of the water to the riverbank.
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Following the riverbank, the group of three make their way to Flotsam - a small village surrounded by a large tall forest which according to Roche's secret informer was overrun by a group of Scoiateal with very strong Alpha Leader who lead them - with Merigold starting to ask him questions, while the Witcher walks behind them checking stuff on the way - plants, tracks and occasionally placing some in his satchel.
"Any news from your secret informer?" She asks him, forcing him to sigh heavily because what can he tell her - most of it so poetically written it given him countless headaches to figure what his informer was talking about, he blames Thaler for choosing a Bard to be his secret informer for information.
"The port's blocked. Some merchants have been hold up for months…" Roche replies, pinching the bridge of his nose when feels another headache coming on and slight sickness in the stomach - something which even Ves, his second-in-command who felt more like his daughter had noticed commenting he should see a Special Doctor about it in case it were something affecting him - quickly turning to look over his shoulder to see where their wayward Witcher is.
Geralt, looks like he's choosing not to get too close to him but indicates he's alright and that they should keep on moving.
"What about roads through the forest...? Merigold asks him, making him turn his face back to her when the trio continue to walk along the river-bank, shafts of sunlight shining down through the towering canopy of trees above their heads.
Vernon, tries not to think of his first mission to Flotsam, where him and Ves along with the rest of the Blue Stripes had attacked on the road they took to get to the place by Scoia'tael resulting in such a clash he been glad to get away by the fabric of his gambeson seeing the leader - Iorveth - being held back by his men, holding a scrap of it in one gloved hand, mouth bloodied and smirking at him.
"Iorveth rules the forest...." He states in reply, cheeks flooding with heat at the memory of that annoying Scoia'tael grabbing him mid-way through their fight to lick his cheek where he ascertained a cut followed by stealing a kiss from his lips that afterwards he punched his enemy for good measure due to the un-wanted kiss.
"Where are we?" Roche asks suddenly, confused because they way their coming he doesn't remember - had Flotsam outskirts changed so much, he literally couldn't remember his way or was this a different route from the one he first taken during his first mission to the place hearing the Sorcress beside chuckling at his question. That didn't help him at all in hearing it.
"In a forest, Roche. I thought you've been to Flotsam before." She says, seeing how he looks at her with slightly widened eyes then giving shrewd glare - because how would she knew that unless one of his Blue Stripes had let it slip out - at her, finding himself that he's going have to talk to his men about what they say to the female sorceress.
The three of them are just about to go around a corner when a hand touches his arm, stopping him from going further that flicks his gaze to Geralt, who's come up to him tilting his head slightly like he can hear something Roche can't hear at the moment.
"Hear that?"
Listening, Roche, quickly catches only the brief rustling before it moves on than a sudden scent wafts it way towards to wrap around him - his internal ovaries of his Omega body choose at the sametime at the moment to cramp painfully - that he immediately recognises the scent.
There was no mistake on who it was.
"I....smell....an elf..." Roche grits out, forcing himself to concentrate when he makes his way around the corner of the riverbank, his ears picking up the sound of the flute starting to be played that tries to rid himself of the haze which is starting to settle in.
Something which been happening quite a lot when a Alpha with intense scent confronted him or released their scent into the air - to ascertain where it's coming from.
A short distance down the riverbank, the trio finds the player of the flute - an elf, wearing the colours of forest emerald-green with badges stolen from mutiple factions playing a ornately carved wooden flute, the red badanna covering one of their eyes - that Vernon Roche, chokes out "That's......." when recognises precisely who it is.
Iorveth - his long-term enemy, an Elf and also an Alpha - who sensing he's being watched lowers his flute to get up turning on the fallen log he been sitting on - waiting it seems for them to arrive, so had that been what had been watching them from the cliff-face above hidden by the foliage above as him, Geralt and Merigold stood on the riverbank discussing their best course of action - to face them, confronting Roche straight away.
"Vernon Roche! Special Forces Commander for the last four years. Servant of the Temerian king. Responsible for the pacification of the Mahakaman foothills. Hunter of elves, murderer of women and children. Twice decorated for valor on the field of battle.."
Irked so much by hearing this, Roche, lets out snarl baring his Omegan fangs as he tries to shake off the cloying scent wrapping more strongly around now he was in front of the very source of it, he hits back not caring whether it offends or doesn't offend the Alpha elf in front of him.
"Iorveth - a regular son of an Alpha whore." He spits out, seeing Iorveth bristling at the comment his Alpha scent increasing ten-fold that Roche, wonders how's he still trying to stand even as his internal Omegan Ovaries cramp painfully within his body and sweat begins to form on his body.
"I've long awaited our next meeting. You left me with this parting gift, last time, you came here." Iorveth smirks out, bringing up the piece of gambeson - Temerian blue-coloured, even though faded - to show off to Roche, who balks at the sight of it feeling behind Merigold and Geralt stepping closer to him . "Laid down plans, set many traps... And now you appear in my forest of your own volition."
"SHUT UP!!" Roche shouts, stepping closer to the where Iorveth, stands looking down at them so irked and annoyed that he's just gonna to bear the Alpha scent wrapping around it's way around - like a caress slipping all over him and getting under his skin to saturate him in it. "You aided the man who slew my King....."
"Alpha or Beta King or Beggar - What's the difference? One dhi'one less." Iorveth barks back at him, baring his own Alphan fangs down at Roche - part of his mind wondering what would like biting down into his Crest Fronds on the back of his nape and Scent glands on the side of his neck if had them - who wills himself not rush into literally attacking the elf, he needed to make time for Merigold and Geralt do their thing so continues in berating his long-term enemy.
"Triss, we need to take him alive. Know any useful spells?" Geralt whispers over to Triss.
Seeing how the situation between Vernon Roche and the very tall, Alpha elf called Iorveth is going.
One who's scent was definately potent, Iorveth, would have to be what was called an Aen Siedhe Alpha, one who was more powerful than any Alpha elf or even Human Alpha that he's glad he took his Omega Nuller because Geralt, wasn't Alpha at all but an Omega Witcher and the only one who was as far as knew of.
"Get his attention. Divert it from Roche." Triss whispers back in reply, her hands crackling with magical energy that it makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle - 'Fuck' he thinks 'She's serious with it' - up and down due to the atmosphere becoming electrified around them slightly as she calls on the source of her Powers to use it.
"I'll try." He cracks out, shaking of the static shock he's getting to move over to Roche, who's nearly at breaking point that this makes Iorveth, flick a single emerald-green gaze over to him with a look 'Who are you to be interrupting us?'
"Climb down and we'll finish this. I await....." Vernon shouts, before moving to lean against boulder with one hand on it looking like he's going collapse at any moment leaving Geralt to hear Iorveth chuck back a response of. "Hah! You're a man without honor, Vernon Roche. An insect I'll not duel, but one that I will crush after I deal with Vhatt'gern here..."
The glare he receives, forcing him to raise any eyebrow in response, crossing his arms over his chest choosing to say his next words carefully or not too carefully if he actually thought about them.
"Seems you spout the same old Elven drivel." Geralt states up to Iorveth, hearing an indignant splutter in Elvish come from the Alpha elf with the bows of the Elvish archers hiding in the shrubbery tightening coming back to him with a question.
"What do you mean, Vhatt'gern? One who hides his true status. You should be ashamed as Omega for hiding it..." Iorveth argues down at him, outing him straight-away that Roche, who's been listening looks at him with confusion and bewilderment that Geralt, knows there is no use hiding it now he been outed by the Alpha elf who smirks at him because both know he's right about him.
"I have my reasons. But that's not why I'm here or my companions." Geralt reasons out, avoiding even looking at Iorveth, who gives a shrewd glare down at him - whether in disgust he doesn't know as of yet.
"Speak then. Tell me you're reason...I'm waiting." Iorveth says, sitting back down again on the fallen log with Geralt, flicking his gaze over to Roche, who's breathing is slightly laboured and looking like he's been drugged up to eyeballs with fisstech when he knows it's Iorveth's Alpha pheromones affecting the other man - though in a way which is very concerning, so would have to make it quick.
"Fine. Since your so piqued to listen, Squirrel." Geralt grits out, gleefully smirking when Iorveth tenses at being named something which the Scoiateal hating being called giving him a look of pure loathing then continues. "The Kingslayer's among you. We've come for him and only him."
"Are you sure? You do know he's an Alpha, don't you, Vhatt'ghern?" Iorveth asks him, smirking when Geralt curses so loudly in his native langauge associated with where he came from Triss, admonishes him for it by sending static electricity increasing one of the Elvish archers says something oddly like 'Damm, Mosquitos!!?" leaving Iorveth, to look at them both with suspicision.
"Then our interests collide... The Alpha Kingslayer is under my protection and I'll not hand over a guest." the elf continues, when Geralt, is not quick to come back with anything or manage to having been stunned into silence at the new information - the Kingslayer of Foltest was an Alpha, which meant getting close to them was going be very difficult.
"Enough of this!!" Iorveth shouts, startling all three of them at the tone - because it not been shouted normally, but in a Alpha command - forcing Geralt to resist kneeling down on both knees due to it - the last time he did, it been something he never wanted to be forced to do again - with Roche, trying to the same even though his knees are nearly buckling and his body wanting to obey the Alpha above him.
"TRISS NOW!!!" Roche hears Geralt shouting - voice muffled though like he's just submerged underwater - hearing some Elvish being shouted, followed by series of spitting curses and hisses.
Managging to turn his face to look, Vernon sees Iorveth - his long-term enemy - is lying on the ground bound by electric coils which are wrapped tightly around the elf Alpha, who struggles only to give up when he realises he's been caught.
"Bloedhe.....Vhatt'ghern......I'lll.....Gaaa.....kill that Sorceress......Urghhh...." Iorveth snarls out, followed by slumping in exhaustion with a silent command to Ciaran, who's looking down from the hiding spot above to get back to Base.
There is nothing at the moment he could do, seeing Letho, the large Alpha Witcher behind his second-in-command looking at white-haired Vhatt'gern with something like sadness he couldn't tell because soon he's hauled up by the Sorceress, using one of the tendrils of magical coils like a leash or rope.
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#The Witcher Fanstory Collection (1 of ?) - Ioroche Fic: 'Fate Never Comes by Accident' (PART 1 of ?)#iorveth/roche#Set during Assassin of Kings#Omega Vernon#Alpha Iorveth#Omega Geralt#alpha/beta/omega verse#slow-burn romance#Vernon suffers Heat sickness#Betrayal hinted at#Emotional/Hurt/Comfort moments#Emotional Angst Alert#Ao3 Version will also be updated as well#Pictures sourced from various sources#Do not copy and repost elsewhere#The Witcher Fanstory Collection#the witcher
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Tagged by @kittlyns (back in march lol) to share my lock screen, last song played, and last picture saved
it didnt specify how many people to tag so im going to tag 10 people bc kittlyn tagged me on my blog's 10th anniversary: @girlwwx @rudiecantfail @yokoyas @glitteratti @booksnbarricades @sonyachni @ettelwenailinon @smiliestboye @sisyphuslnabyss and @hopefulqueer
#i found this it in my activity and i knew i would never have a better last photo than i do at this moment in time#(well the actual most recent photo is just a png of the 2 lime green Xs that i separated out to make future versions of this easier)#the context of the meme is talking about songs being stuck in my head‚ not my general feelings toward them#and its about the great comet of 1813.mp3 not the entirety of great comet#also the pallas cat represents me bc my discord profile is that photo#you dont care#tag games#if you saw this on discord… um hello?? im trying to keep these 2 identities /Vaguely/ separate so pls like… dont share this blog over there#but youre welcome to stay and look around at... my 10 years of complaining and oversharing in the notes 😬#for the people i tagged: i chose you bc youre all people that i interact with/have interacted with in the past#thank you for being here. you obviously dont have to do this if you dont want to!#sorry im never on here anymore its bc i access ao3 through the tumblr app rather than a regular mobile browser so i cant really use mobile#and my internet makes it difficult to use tumblr on desktop#not me being like 'damn i cant believe NONE of them saw this yet' only to realize its been in my drafts for 3hrs#since i wrote this up i listened to zayn's leaked demo 'hurt' but im not updating this now#partially bc the idea of writing the alt text for the album cover i made makes me irrationally nervous
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Shan Yu obsessed with you would include
Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Personal blog | More Shan Yu | AO3
synopsis: For Shan Yu, it was love at first sight. For you, he was the man that kidnapped you. Oh, young love.
warnings: female!reader. badass!reader. kidnapping. nudity. in this house we hate the misogynist version of Shan Yu in Mulan (2020).
• Villages on the border are not usually targeted by the Hun army, as they are mostly built and maintained by the effort of the population itself. They are part of China, but it would take weeks for the Emperor to be updated on the situation of these villages. There's no need to attack them, and it's not useful either. After all, everyone needs to rest. It is an agreement between the army and the city leaders: peace is maintained if they are well received and well fed.
• It was suppossed to be a quick stay. After a long battle, the army needed to eat and rest. And so needed the horses. Soon after, they would continue their journey. After enjoying the feast offered by an inn, Shan Yu decided to ride alone along one of the mountain trails. This battle showed that the Chinese army is well organized, despite being smaller. As tempting as counting victory is, deluding yourself can be a fatal mistake. Shan Yu needed to think, and he needed silence.
• Hours after leaving the inn, a noise caught his attention. A sneeze. And the sound of running water. Shan Yu searched for the source of the sound, comanded by his own curiosity. It was almost like his body was warning him: This is important. He jumped off the horse and followed his ears, finding a lagoon hidden by ash trees. It's water was dark because of the stone banks, filled with a few carps and low vegetation. Then you emerged.
• Shan Yu almost fall into the lagoon. He never thought he had weak legs, but they were shaking. He couldn't feel knees, but he did feel his heart. It was aching. Like something sharp hold onto it. It was such a hurting feeling, but he never want to not feel it. Because he knows exactly what this mean. Shan Yu just fell in love.
• He saw you whole. Reflecting the moon, water falling down your body, he saw every inch of your skin. Your curves, your beauty, your smile. Your scars, your freckles, your marks. Shan Yu saw your body, but also saw your soul. The way you moved into the water, having fun, even tho you were shivering. It was so, so cold. But you didn't mind. You wanted to swin, so you did it.
• You were brave. Certain about your desires. Resistent. And your laugh... That sound was deserving of a thousand praises. People should give their lifes for the chance of hearing you. Of seeing you. Of being near you. And it would be a pleasure. A small price for such a great gift.
• Then you sneezed. And again. And again.
• Shan Tu quickly notice your clothes stretched on a rock. It appeared to be made from a nice tissue, but he couldn't let you wear something like that. So he came out from among the trees.
• You got scared. Who wouldn't? Even if you didn't knew who he was, you probably heard about him, a man appearing out of nowhere is really frightful. You dived up to your chin, on a attempt of covering your body, and walked away from him. Even scared you were the most beautiful thing he ever saw.
• Shan Yu was glad the inn offered him a bath before the feast. His mustachioed was trimmed, his hair combed, his skin cleaned. You couldn't look away, did you notice his yellow eyes? Did you like it? Shan Yu hopes you does.
• Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he took his wolf fur coat and left it among your clothes.
"Do not approach!" You yelled at him, thinking he was undressing to join you. "I'm warning you: I can fight."
Shan Yu chuckled. If he wasn't sure before, now he knows that you were made to be his. You were deciding between running or fighting, but he turned away. "What the hell," you said to yourself.
Walking back to his horse, Shan Yu did his speciality: he planned.
• The stay was extended. Shan Yu ordered his best warriors to watch you. To discover who you were, where you live, what you do. To make sure you would always be safe. Within days, he already knew your routine, your family, your name. And as time went by, Shan Yu decided to act.
It was a quiet night. Snow started to fall, no more travelers for some good months. After spending the day helping your mother keep the house clean and teaching one of your younger friends how to cook a congee, all you wanted was to sleep. And so you did.
But you woke up with breaking glass noise. You jumped out of bed immediately. And when you noticed the silence, you thought you just had a realist nightmare. You lay backdown, snuggling under the sheets, and closed your eyes to sleep again... and someone pulled you by the feet.
You couldn't see who was hurting you, all candles were out, but you felt it's tight grip around your ankles. You felt on the floor, your neck started to burn, the person pulling while you screamed. You bet he didn't think you would react, 'cuz on the moment you had a chance you kicked the man so hard he fell back. Then you kicked his head, putting him to sleep.
You runned to your parents room to get them out of here, but it wasn't a solo job. Three big man guarded the corridor. Moonlit, you noticed that nothing was damaged. That wasn't just a robbery.
"Touch me," you smiled at then, sure they would see it. After tucking a lock behind your ear, you positioned yourself to fight. "And I will beat the shit out of you."
All you remember after was the sound of bones breaking, blood gushing from noses, screams of pain. They tried to get you, but you always knew how to protect yourself. "I've warned you."
You managed to open your parents' bedroom door, and found them gagged on the bed. As brave as you were, you knew you couldn't release them and defend you three. "I'll be back," you promised. Hearing the sound of people entering your house, you opened the bedroom window. "And with help."
And then you jumped.
Barefoot in the snow, you had only one goal: to reach the bell on the wall between the houses. It is only used in emergencies, its ring is almost an announcement of calamities. No one would ignore it.
You just didn't count that more than five men guarded the perimeter of your house. Now it was clear that the Hun army was attacking you, although you didn't understand why. There was only one thing left to do: run.
You managed to contain them, after all that was the land of your house. You knew where every hole, stone, obstacle was.
Climbing the ladder that connects the walls, there was so little left for you to reach the wire and show everyone what was happening. But your foot was pulled, and you landed hard on the floor.
Breathing was difficult. It burned. It was like someone muzzled your chest and asked you to take a deep breath. It hurt so much that you couldn't protect yourself as they lifted you off the ground, pushing you towards something.
When you started to get used to the pain, you tried to run. But someone grabbed your shoulder and kept you still. After a few seconds, you heard steps. The gate of your house was opened, and your blurry vision couldn't focus on the man marchingon your direction. Less than a minute felt like a decade.
"Who hurted her?" A deep, eery voice asked.
As he come closer, you reconized him. The man that handed you his coat on the most creepy way possible. Now, looking closer and without water on your eyelashes, you understood who he really was. And that scared the shit out of you.
A eagle landed on his broad arm. He was armed, but even if he wasn't it would still give you the creeps. He looked like a predator. A big cat ready to attack. He lived up to his fame. That makes you a prey? Shan Yu was looking at you, and you didn't know if he was the last thing you will ever see.
Whoever was holding you decided to let you go. Shan Yu got closer, but you didn't step back. You wanted to, but didn't. If he want something from you, than he better undestand that you will never submit.
"I'm not hurt." It was a lie, but it wasn't just thay. It was you challenging him. "What do you want from me?"
Shan Yu smiled. He wasn't that close to you, but he made you feel so small. It's impossible to look at Shan Yu without feeling weak. "Are you always that brave?"
"That's me being reasonable" you answered. "In order to be brave I would need to be scared. What do you want from me?"
"Your heart." He took a step back. "Care to join me?'
You did, but you also didn't have an option.
Shan Yu led you to his legion. Surrounded by silence, you saw when the four man stepped out of your house. You didn't know what to do or what to expect, but there was something more important then your future. "Did you kill my parents?"
"No." Shan Yu was succinct. "I ordered them to bring you to me, not to hurt you. They will be punished. I promise you."
"I'm not hurt", it was all you were able to say.
Shan Yu sighed. "You can fight, but you can't lie."
After walking for a few minutes, you saw the Hun army. And they were ready to travel again. Thousands of them ready to invade China.
Your parents are safe. If you run, you can go back to your village and warn them about what happened. You could've try, but you didn't.
What they would do? Fight a whole army because one family was attacked? You wouldn't start a war that you know you can't win. You can fight, but not like the Huns. They just didn't expect you to fight back, but they are bigger and stronger than you could ever be.
"You need to rest", Shan Yu woke you up from your thoughts. You noticed that those other men following you weren't there anymore. Your bravery faded away little by little. "Come here."
You could see now where he is walking you. Compared to the others, it was the biggest carriage. The prettiest. It was long, driven by ten horses, made for sleeping. Shan Yu was leading you to his carriage, and that made you want to vomit.
Shan Yu opened the door, and gestured for you to come in. You stepped back. "I won't be your whore."
He frozed. If you have paid attention, you would've noticed the pain in his eyes. But you didn't. "You won't. I would never do this."
"Don't lie to me!"
"I've told you the truth." Shan Yu licked his lips. He never felt so scared. He would... he would never do that. "I will only touch you if you want me to."
"You kidnapped me!" You shout at him. "You hurted me. You hurted my family. Why would I ever believe on what you said?"
Shan Yu moved foward to you. He bent over, looking at you from your height. "I will give you China as a dowry."
You stumbled back. "What did you said?"
"You will be my Empress." Shan Yu smiled at your response. "My heart is yours. I will wait, don't matter how long it takes, for your reciprocal. So please, rest."
You didn't knew how to react. His face, so close to yours, made you swallow hard. It makes no sense. Why would he do that? You ain't a noble or rich or anything like that. That must be a lie. But why would he bother lying?
You walked past him, completely unsure of what to do. You ignored his eyes, scared to see that he speaks the true. Now your surprise was greater than your fear. This can only be a very weird dream. You pinched yourself, but nothing happened.
Inside the carriage, you realized that everything was actually... beautiful. You'd think an army would have no room for beauty, but Shan Yu's gigantic room proved otherwise. Intricately finished wooden tables with maps and plans, sheets of warm, hard-to-sew fabrics, gold religious items. Everything was beautiful. And probably more expensive than your house and everything in it.
Shan Yu closed the door. It wasn't a quiet night anymore.
• You woke up to footsteps in the carriage. You don't remember falling asleep, but at some point you did. It was cold, you were tired, and it was such a comfortable bed. When you got up, you saw people arranging chests in the center of the room. A lady placed a tray on the table, the food on it looked delicious. They were all just smiles for you, a warm feeling almost didn't take over your body.
• Those trunks had your new clothes. Appropriate clothing for cold weather and long trips. It wasn't a dream. No, it really wasn't. Shan Yu is... in love with you? What a weird kind of love. He really chose to kidnap you rather to talk with you? If feels like a story from a fantasy book, not something actually happening on your life.
• But Shan Yu is honorable. Somehow. You saw him fighting: Shan Yu seens to be joking with others life. Sometimes he allows his enemies to have some kind of advantage, just so he can win in a more humiliating way. But he never touched you. Or disrespcted you. Or let anyone treat you badly. And he also care for his army, for his people. So, yeah, honorable. Somehow.
• Shan Yu slept in the same carriage, after all it was his carriage, but not in the same bed. It was strange, but he said he wouldn't leave you alone at such a vulnerable time. You laugh about it, saying that he wouldn't be able to protect you or anything like that if he was sleeping. That very same night, when you both slept together for the first time, you woke up because of the horses. Within a second, Shan Yu was awake, asking if something had happened. Light sleeper: you will be safe.
• You participated in discussions about strategy. And always sitting next to him. One of his trusted men explained the vocabulary you didn't know. Shan Yu insisted for you to be there. Whether it's battle strategy, discussions about money, meetings with the different troops, mapping the path: Shan Yu wanted you there, paying attention and learning.
Riding down the montain on the sorrel he let you choose, Shan Yu was particularly relaxed. "Who taught you how to fight?"
You were also feeling just fine. The weather was mild, the sun warmed you, and riding had finally become second nature. The night before they held a feast in celebration of the end, and victory, of a battle.
"I was an angressive child, and my grandpa always taught me everything he knew." You smiled, but it was a little bit sad. You miss him a lot. "But I don't really know how to fight. I just hit where it hurts, and then I run as fast as I can."
Shan Yu guffaw. "That strategy is... not enterily wrong." His words were positive, but Shan Yu didn't notice he shook his head. You did. "I can teach you."
"Do you have time for that?" Soon your honest question turned into a joke. "Because I can beat you ass anytime."
As time went on, you kind of forgot that you were angry with him. Shan Yu was surprisingly a good listener. And even his coldness could be funny. And he was honest. Never hurted you or forced you to do anything. You don't love him, but you understood your life beside him would be interesting.
You've learned about war, economics, you can tell what each officer in the army does, and you've learned a thing or two about Huns history. Much more interesting than cooking, cleaning and going out to do something that, deep down, was just a way to make yourself more attractive to a good husband. This was no longer a concern. You could be stubborn, annoying, angry, petty: but you don't have to behave to attract a man's gaze. You could just exist, and it was enough for him. It is... liberating. You miss your family and friends, you miss them so much it hurts, but it's not all bad.
"I will take that as a yes."
• The storm changed everything. It was impossible to set a camp down. Shan Yu was leading his army, as he always will, but not even a man strong as him can defeat nature. In a few days with the cold water giving him no time to rest or eat, everyone around Shan Yu could see that he was sick. But he didn't admit it. Saying that he was just fine, he continued to lead the troops.
• His determined nature didn't allow him to rest, but his body couldn't take anymore: he fell of the horse. Shan Yu was treated with the finest medicines, but he didn't woke up. Didn't even move a finger. You stood beside him the whole day, and when the moonlit touched your skin... You were shaking.
• How could he done that to you? Everytime you went out he made you go back to the carriage so you wouldn't get sick. How could he not care about himself the same way? How could he get so hurt without allowing anyone to help him? Shan Yu is a liar. He told you he would never hurt you, but look what he did to you! You can't breath, you can't think, you can't even look at him without feeling that your chest is about to explode. How dare him lie to you?
• Crying, you lay down next to him. You tucked your head onto the chest that moved slowly with shallow breathing, and hugged his broad waist. Your fingers drew disjointed shapes on the boiling skin, your lips murmured prayers to all the gods and ancestors who could hear you. You just wanted a sign that everything was going to be okay. And muttering prayers as you caressed his skin, you fell asleep.
• You woke up to a caress at the small of your back. Your mind took a while to understand what was happening, but as soon as you opened your eyes and saw him, everything ceased to matter. Shan Yu was awake. And he smiling.
"When did you woke up?" You tried to sit down, but his arm around your waist didn't let you. "You need to eat. I gonna call the maesters. How are you feeling? Why didn't you woke me up?!"
"Calm down", his weak voice almost broke your heart, but his tone showed you that Shan Yu was back. "Stay this way. Just a little longer."
"Do you know how scared I was?" You feel like you were about to cry, so you didn't look into his eyes. "Let me go. Let me help you."
"You've never touched me." Shan Yu caressed your cheek, tucking a strand behind your ear. It was so intimate, it made your stomach ache. But it wasn't a bad thing. "You're warm. And soft. And you smell like tears."
"I thought you..." You couldn't say the words. "You didn't react to anything. I thought you were about to die."
"I would have come back to you." His fingers slid to your chin. A delicate touch, too delicate for someone so rough, made you look into his eyes. "I would crawl out of my grave. Not even death can put us apart."
"I missed you." You admited. "I missed you so much. How terrible it is to love something death can touch."
"You love me?" Shan Yu didn't gave you time to answer. "Love me." It wasn't a demand. Shan Yu wasn't ordering. He was begging. "Please."
"I have your heart." You got closer to him. "And you have mine. Don't break it."
"I wouldn't dare."
Next part!
GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink
if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡
@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.
#madwomansapologist#prisoner/bride au#disney villain x reader#disney x reader#disney villain#disney x you#disney villain x you#disney villain x y/n#shan yu x reader#shan yu#shan yu x you#disney x y/n#shan yu x y/n#shan yu mulan#mulan 1998
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Jasper Hale X Male! Reader (part. 1)
(I couldn't live with myself, leaving you all with the old version of my fic when I have an updated one. So here you go, updated fic! Meaning, that if you've read something similar to this on here, or something exactly like this on Ao3, then it is mine.
This is part one of, if everything goes as planned, three parts.)
(Part. 2)
---
"This is (y/n)."
The voice sounded blurry to him, as if he was underwater. Where was that ringing coming from? Was it even ringing? He wasn't sure, might as well just be him, might as well just get tinnitus because honestly, that would just be typical wouldn't it. Why was it so dark?... Maybe his eyes were just closed.
Memories, memories (memories had to be the key to figuring this out, right? Right.) - what was the last thing he remembered? He was in town to go shopping. Working late left him to do his groceries in the evening. It was dark, at least past 9 pm, and there weren't a lot of people out on the narrow cobbled city streets. No people. That's how he liked it.
A group of broad and tall statures with guns came out of nowhere. The rest of it was blurry- there was shouting, three rounds of bullets being fired, and then he felt the impact of his body hitting the ground. He remembered losing his vision, and feeling himself stop breathing.
And now he was here. And he realised he was not exactly sure where 'here' was. And he realised he should be dead (why wasn't he dead?).
He could hear distant arguing. But maybe they were right next to him. He wasn't sure of anything at the moment, not that he was sure of much usually.
Parts of what was being said were comprehensible.
"....isn't safe..."
"...let him die!..."
"...dangerous!..."
"...what could I..."
(Y/n) opened his eyes just a little, only to be blinded by a heavenlike light. Squinting, he could see that the room he was in was very white, almost sterile. However, he had a feeling this was no hospital room. Then again, he was still not even sure where he was.
A groan escaped him as he felt his head start to pound, nausea rising in his throat. The people talking suddenly stopped, their attention on him. He couldn't make out any of their faces if he wanted to, and honestly, he didn't care much for that right now - not with his splitting headache. It would be absolutely lovely if they could give him something for the headache though.
A wave of pain washed through him then, burning at his nerves and spreading through his body like a wildfire spreading through the woods. He hissed, body contorting and arching as the stabbing agony continued rocking through him, numbing every other sense he had.
"Stay with us-!"
"-me the morphine-"
And (y/n) passed out again.
---
The next time (y/n) woke up he was in a significantly more comfortable state. There were no echoing arguing voices around him and no pounding in his head as if it were splitting open. In fact, he could hear the distant sounds of birds chirping and the wind rustling through leaves. Was he in the woods? He'd just been in the city.
His throat felt scratchy, though (is this how those people in desert movies felt like?) And as he opened his eyes he was pleasantly surprised by no little sterile rooms, coupled with no blinding lights. Slowly, he sat up.
His eyes focused, and he glanced around. There were giant windows all around him, and outside of the glass was, indeed, a forest. A fucking forest (?). Not to mention, he couldn't remember ever having this good eyesight. (It had been one of his favourite problems to neglect - opticians are expensive.)
And he also realised that none of the windows were open, which was odd, seeing as he could hear the birds as though they were right next to him. Could be some weird new glass, though. People do crazy things with glass nowadays.
The living room, which he assumed was where he found himself, was bigger than his whole studio apartment and decorated with minimalism in mind it seemed. It honestly looked like the home of an eccentric rich man. If this was a kidnapping it was the highest class kidnapping he'd ever heard of. Five-star rated kidnapping.
(Y/n) wasn't a very big fan of minimalism. (Then again; not his house.)
As the young man stood up and absentmindedly roamed around the house, he realised that he was... Seemingly alone. Awkwardly peeking into every room he came across and calling out only seemed to confirm this; his own voice being the only thing echoing back to him in response.
He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign in this situation - first time being kidnapped and all.
Finally (y/n) ended up in the kitchen. Yeah, some water would definitely soothe the dryness in his throat - motherfucker, had they fed him a desert when he was out??
He sighed and reached up to tug open a cabinet, and stumbled back, caught off guard as he tugged the entire cabinet door off of its hinges. He stared at the door in his hands with wide eyes. (The fuck?? It's not even heavy...)
"...huh."
He hesitantly put the door down, squinting at it suspiciously and assuming the hinges or the wood was very weak or something. Maybe there were even termites in the wood. He grimaced at the thought of termites as he grabbed a glass for himself, and went over to the sink, grabbing ahold of the sink handle and pulling it back.
Only to yell out in shock as he pulled it off the entire handle, separating the handle from the entire fucking sink, with water now spraying out of it.
He put the glass down (dropped it on the counter) and grasped at the hole, desperately trying to stop the water from pouring out and soaking him and holy shit was it wet holy shit holy shit-
The clearing of a throat behind him split the silence. His head snapped in that direction, wide eyes staring over his shoulder only to see a blond man in a doctor's jacket, sporting an amused smile on his face.
Behold the aforementioned rich man, I suppose.
"Uhh... It was like this when I found it."
The man tilted his head, and did not seem convinced.
---
After around two hours of explaining the situation, there were three things (y/n) was now sure of.
1. (Y/n) had almost died earlier, and the man in the room with him, Carlisle, suspiciously surprisingly nice for being a rich man, had saved him.
2. He had saved him by turning him into a vampire. He was now a vampire. A fucking vampire.
3. He had been invited to live with him and his other kind-of-but-not-really adopted kids, who were also vampires. It was some sort of clan situation. ("- you mean like, as in a gang?" "(y/n), no-")
The offer was extremely kind. And the mansion he was in currently was a palace compared to (y/n)'s apartment in the city. Thinking about the sheer size of the mansion was a good distraction from the fact that vampires and vampire clans were real, and had apparently been for a long fucking time.
He also knew that he had pretty much wrecked this man's kitchen. He was ignoring that fact as well. Besides, they were vampires, they didn't even use the kitchen!
Carlisle was nice to him. The doctor had a calming... Feel to him, and explained the situation in a soothing, practiced manner, that showed it was clearly not his first time explaining this. (Y/n) needed that, because he was just about one more life-changing fact away from having a breakdown. Carlisle explained that (y/n) was free to go should he choose, but also explained the dangers of being a lone vampire. ("I-I mean I haven't even met the other people here, I don't know if I can-" "That's alright, if you want to wait until you've met the others that's perfectly fine.")
And also. That thirst in his throat, was a thirst for human blood. (Y/n) violently recoiled as Carlisle stated this, though he couldn't deny the way his throat itched more at the idea, how his mouth seemed to water with venom at the mere mention of human blood.
Carlisle was very clear that there was one condition for letting him stay; he had to drink animal blood instead of human. (Y/n) had agreed quite vigorously. ("Yeah, duh, fuck yeah I agree."). (Y/n) didn't like the sceptical look Carlisle gave him at that. He got the sudden feeling that it wasn't that easy.
---
Their conversation was cut off as a door opened across the house, and the rest of the stoic family walked in, quietly. (Y/n) stood up hesitantly, preparing himself for a round of handshakes that never came. None of the 'hi, you must be new here' or the other normal things you'd expect meeting someone for the first time. They simply watched him back. He couldn't help but feel intimidated. Were all vampires like this?
"(Y/n)," Carlisle thankfully took the word, "these are the other members of the family."
The young newborn took his time to examine each one of them, glancing away from time to time and pretending he had the dignity not to stare. (This is so fucking awkward, holy shit.)
There was a kind-looking woman who approached them, standing next to Carlisle and smiling encouragingly at (y/n).
"Esme. Carlisle's wife." She introduced herself, exchanging a disgustingly adorable look with her husband. Suddenly he felt like he was intruding, so he averted his gaze to the rest of the family.
The rest of them stood quietly in front of him in a line, almost giving off the feeling that they were standing guard. Which was a little bit odd. Did they usually do that? Carlisle had told him how dangerous newborns could be. He wondered if they were watching him for any sign of danger, if they were tense and ready to pounce on him.
The position made it easier for (y/n) to inspect them of course, but surely they could have said something...
From left to right: There was a blonde woman, eyeing him suspiciously. That was fair, he thought; he was new after all. He wondered if Carlisle had forewarned them at all. They didn't seem all too surprised, so he must have. (Y/n) smiled hesitantly at her and his gaze quickly drifted to the man next to her.
This man was... Big. Broad and tall, he practically overflowed with mischievous energy. He smirked back at him as their eyes met. It was possible it was because (Y/n)'s gaze might have lingered a second too long on the man's physique-
The newborn heard a snort from the guy next to him. He looked over at the guy confused, raising an eyebrow.
This man had a typical short-sides-long-on-top-haircut, as well as prominent sideburns. It was certainly... A haircut that one can have. His eyes were glued to the floor, an amused smile on his face, as if laughing at a joke only he knew. (Y/n) found it... Slightly infuriating. The red hair on his head was eye-catching though, he had to admit.
Next to him was a short girl who looked as though she came from a fairytale; like she might grant you three wishes. She grinned gleefully at (y/n) with big sparkling eyes, and (y/n) smiled back, relieved at the almost immediate acceptance he felt from this person. This was maybe the closest thing he'd gotten to a greeting from these people.
(It struck him then that all of them were... Attractive. He wondered if that was part of being a vampire. Was he hot now? He had to look in a mirror.
...
Could he look in a mirror?!)
He heard Carlisle speaking next to him, introducing the members and cutting his spiraling thoughts short.
"This is Rosalie, Emmett, Edward, Alice, and-"
Lastly, there was a man.
He was undeniably very handsome, with his dirty blond curly hair and pale skin (which they all had- was that a vampire trait??). His eyes carried the same yellow tint as all the others in the room- but his were different. They seemed to look into him, not through him the way Rosalie did. He felt seen.
The man in question stepped forward and offered his hand for a handshake (finally a normal fucking greeting. Holy shit.) and introducing himself before Carlisle got to.
"Jasper. You're the newborn, right?"
He spoke with a Southern accent, which was... strangely attractive on him. (Y/n) tilted his head, observing him as he spoke, not avoiding the piercing eye contact.
It did however take all of his self-control to not reply with 'duh' to this question.
Instead, he shook his hand, nodding slowly.
"Yeah, that's me... The-the one and only."
Carlisle appeared next to them all of a sudden. (Y/n) liked to think he hadn't noticed his approach because Carlisle moved very quietly, and would adamantly deny getting lost in the moment.
"Jasper has... Experience with newborns. He will be helping you control your urges and figure out how your body works- as you have already noted, your abilities have changed. "
He explained, looking between (y/n) and Jasper. (Y/n) nodded silently, not taking his eyes off of Jasper while Carlisle spoke, and Jasper all the same. Therefore neither of them noticed the knowing look that was exchanged between Edward and Carlisle, nor the curious glances between the rest of the family members, or the wide grin on Alice's face.
---
The gentle sounds of a forest filled his ears, and the smell of dirt and nature filled his nose. It was pleasant, not like the oil and smog that festered in his nose and drooped down his throat in the city. The increased sense of smell was, in this case, definitely a good thing about being a vampire.
It was currently only him and Jasper, out in the woods, a place they had frequented the last week while waiting for the vampirism in his body to 'calm down' - a thing it apparently needed to do before they started trying to control his strength.
(Y/n) thought it was ridiculous, honestly. So what, he broke a measly kitchen door. That didn't mean he was outrageously strong. American houses are practically made of cardboard anyway! But yet...
"Pick up that log."
Jasper broke the silence as he pointed to a fallen tree, speaking with that lovely accent of his. If only what he said wasn't so incredibly stupid.
(Y/n) scoffed out a laugh in response, arms crossed over his chest.
"Are you joking? I can't pick up a fucking tree! I'm a vampire, not fucking... Superman!" He sputtered, gesturing wildly to the trunk.
Jasper rolled his eyes and walked past him, over to the fallen tree. The newborn scoffed at him, shaking his head and looking away. Is this guy fucking crazy?
There was a creaking sound, and the next time (y/n) looked over the man had picked up a tree, and was now effortlessly holding it over his head. He looked at (y/n) with a slightly annoyed expression, that he certainly couldn't care less about because Jasper was holding a fucking tree over his head.
(Y/n) was speechless. This guy is fucking crazy-
The dirty-blond man dropped the tree to the ground, casually dusting off his hands as he wandered back over to (y/n).
"Not only are you a vampire; you're a newborn. You're at your strongest point. If you don't learn to control your strength, you could very well accidentally kill any of us."
He stated, crossing his arms over his chest and gazing out over the forest. (Y/n) watched him with shining eyes, amazed and slightly overwhelmed by the situation he found himself in.
The newborn simply nodded dumbly, closing his mouth and walking over to the fallen tree. He swallowed nervously, glancing up at Jasper. The other man offered no support but a piercing and expectant gaze - and somehow that was enough for him to fully know that Jasper believed in him.
Before he knew it, he was holding a tree over his head. He let out a surprised laugh, not caring about the dead leaves falling around him like snow, and looking at Jasper with wide eyes. He dropped the tree to the forest floor with a thud.
It became clear that he actually wasn't human anymore. He couldn't be. Not with the way his skin sparkled beneath the sun and the way physics seemed to bend for him. He wasn't human anymore.
Maybe he was Superman after all?
---
"So, we have to figure out what to tell your family, your relatives etcetera..."
It was hardly two weeks into his stay as Carlisle went through the steps of living like a vampire, keeping his eyes fixed on (y/n) with a slightly worried look on his face. Something told the newborn that Carlisle found this to be the hardest part of transitioning into a vampire.
The group was currently in the living room, and dusk had fallen. (Y/n) found the house to be more homelike during nighttime - the lamps cast a yellow glow that reminded him of fire and made the whiteness of the interior seem less... Constricting.
The topic of (y/n)'s family made the newborn freeze up beneath their excruciating gazes, and he felt a chill run down his spine. He wondered if he had grown pale or if he just felt like he had. He probably couldn't grow pale, could he? No blood and all.
This was an unavoidable subject, the one of his family. Yet it was one he would be more than happy to ignore for the rest of his life - because with the subject of his family, there would be explanations needed, questions answer that he really would prefer not to answer right now.
(Y/n) glanced down nervously. He wasn't sure whether he actually wanted to have a conversation about them. Not now, not yet.
"I-it's fine, they won't mind."
He looked up at Carlisle with a sorry attempt at a reassuring smile on his face. Carlisle frowned.
"They threw him out."
(Y/n) sputtered and spun around, coming face to face with Edward. Edward, who had just told everyone he had been thrown out, abandoned by his own family. Had he any blood his cheeks would burn in shame by now. That stupid mind-reading was getting annoying.
He shot him a glare. Edward merely shrugged.
Fucking asshole.
"Yes, thank you, Edward."
When he turned back to Carlisle, Jasper was now standing next to him, arms crossed over his chest and with an equally as concerned look on his face as Carlisles. This fucking guy just seems to manifest, he thought.
"Why would they do that?" Jasper mumbled in confusion, more so to himself than genuinely asking.
"It's because-"
"Edward don't you fucking dare." (Y/n) quickly shot a fierce glare back at Edward, warning him, before looking forward again. He glanced between Jasper and Carlisle (looking just as concerned as before), and then looked down, taking a shaky breath.
This could end badly. It had a track record of ending badly. He didn't want it to end badly. Not with them.
"I'm...I..."
He sighed as he trailed off, digging the heels of his palms into his face and trying to clear his head. Coming out never really did get easier did it?
"just-... Okay just give me a moment."
"He's gay."
"Edward I swear to fucking mother of Christ-"
Carlisle had to physically stop him from getting into a fight with Edward that night.
#jasper hale#jasper hale x reader#jasper hale x male reader#jasper cullen#twilight x reader#twilight x male reader#twilight x male! reader#x male reader#twilight x you#twilight x y/n#mlm and nblm only#gay mlm#twilight#twilight saga#gay people real
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Hello!!! Love love LOVE your Charlastor and Hazbin artwork; your art is amazing!!
I have a feww questions if you’re comfortable with answering them (no worries if not) :D
I love hearing people’s music recommendations, so I was wondering if you listen to music whilst you draw and if there’s any songs in particular that make you think of the characters and/or the ship?
Also, I get a bit nervous posting about Charlastor because of some of the hate it gets in the fandom and because some of my irl classmates who follow me don’t like the ship (and don’t know I like it), so I was wondering what your general mindset is when you post your art online, but also what your mindset is like when posting Charlastor art, knowing what the fandom can be like?
Finallyy, I wanted to ask if you’ve read Under My Skin by whamagram on AO3 and if you have, what are your thoughts on it? It’s a mature slowburn Radiobelle fic and only has a few chapters out so far, but it’s updated pretty regularly and has become my new favourite at the moment! I highly highly recommend it because it’s super well-written, really witty, and really understands the characters. It’s all about Charlie nursing Alastor back to health after the final battle in season 1 and it’s just so well done!!
Again, just want to say that I really really love your work and thank you for sharing it! I especially love how you draw expressions and the way you draw characters and their emotions feels so real. Seeing your illustrations inspires me to keep practicing with my own art!
Omg thank you so much for this lovely ask?!!
I'd be more than happy to answer all of these actually! :D
I am, in fact, the kind of person who looooves finding songs that fit certain characters or ships and make whole playlists over time if I find enough of them, so here's some that made me think of Charlastor (links are all spotify):
- Glass Piano, by Kathleen
- Daisy Bell, and specifically this scuffed computer sung version bc it hits better
- bored like me, by dodie
- Ended with the Night, by Caravan Palace
- I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire, by The Ink Spots
- I Can't Decide, by Scissor Sisters
I have yet to really find more songs specific to the characters as individuals tho lol
----------
As for your next question...
This isn't my first rodeo in the unpopular non-canon het presenting ship club, so there's a few things I like to remind myself of when I feel that people pleaser anxiety sneaking up on me:
1)
if people truly wanted to avoid content of the ship, they'd block the tags. Maybe kindly ask your friend to block the charlastor and radiobelle tags bc you want to post about them? This way they're not forced to see what they dislike and you get to have your harmless fun. If they're opposed to this, question why. It's not your job to curate *their* online experience, they do have all the necessary tools at their disposal.
2)
I consider the source material like a toy box. You can play with the dolls in it like the packaging intended for you to, but there's no rules dictating that you can't play *your* way if that's more fun to you.
Canon is in my eyes the preferred suggestion, but not the law - don't we all just smush the heads of dolls together making kissy noises in our minds at the end of the day?
A lot of people sadly treat shipping like it's a battle for author validation, when in reality it was always just a way to playing with hypotheticals and exploring the world and characters canon offered us in new and interesting ways... I hate the attitude some people have about canonicity. Imo, as long as you're not acting like your non-canon ship should be canon and shit on other ships in the process, you're not doing any harm.
Now... Canon sexualities and having contrary headcanons are a tricky road to travel because there's so much emotional investment in the canon representation of often overlooked or mishandled minority groups, and this is the biggest anti argument I've seen get thrown around, since Charlastor as a ship not only splits up the canon lesbian pairing, but also alters Alastor's canon sexuality to make the ship work.
What's important here is that you handle it respectfully - i.e. don't be a dick and go around acting like your preferred ideas are better and should be canon or whatever. Attitude is important, respect canon for what it is and embrace the fact that your ship is not. It's not a detriment! It just means we have to make all of our own content lol.
I personally headcanon Alastor as demisexual/demiromantic not only because it still fits under the aspec umbrella, but also because I myself am both of those things and enjoy messing with the characters and narrative using a dynamic I have a lot of personal experience with! It's fun to hit someone as haughty and stubbornly emotionally detached as Alastor with a flurry of unexpected, unwanted feelings and struggling to navigate them.
Do I want that to be canon? Absolutely not! I'm just having fun with my imaginative toys in my own corner of the internet lol.
Also for the record, I think Chaggie is cute and they should absolutely stay together, I just don't find them interesting enough to explore further in the realm of fanfiction and art :'D
Ultimately I'm a strong believer of "I can post whatever I want forever", if anyone has an issue with it and the given tools at their disposal aren't enough to deal with it, they're free to unfollow and/or block me! I don't need anyone's approval to have harmless fun with my artistic and writing skills where I don't bother anyone, and that's imo always what should be at the core of creating just about anything.
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OH ALSO I KNOW THAT FIC AND IT'S SOO GOOODDDD I DROP EVERYTHING TO GO READ IT WHENEVER A NEW CHAPTER DROPS
I try my best to leave comments under it wherever I can too bc it genuinely scratches like every itch I have about this ship so well-
The comedy is on point, the dialogue feels so solidly in-character and the pacing and the overall concept just work perfectly!!
10/10 concur as a great recommendation lol
----------
QWQ again, thank you so much for taking the time to type out this lovely ask, I really do appreciate it and the compliments also absolutely made my day!!
I hope you keep having as much fun with this ship as I am, take care!! <3
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Carnival of Terror 🎪 1: Right place at the right time
The carnival is in town, and it is unlike anything you have ever experienced. Will you make it out alive?
🎪 Yoongi x Female Reader
🎪 word count: 6.1k
🎪 choose your own adventure, lovers and friends to ???, carnival and circus au, dead dove, horror, possible minor & major character injury & death, supernatural elements & magic realism, nsfw, 21+
🎪 warnings: dramarama within the friend group; general sense of the vibes being off; description of clowns, jesters & acrobats; hypnosis without consent.
🎪 note: all of the above details and warnings are subject to change as the story progresses & the readers vote. check the master post for an updated version of the details.
🎪 beta read by @neoneunnajimin & @sailoryooons. additional shout out to @sweetestofchaos & @echotoyou & @here4kpopfics for being brainstorm pals!
🎪 posted sept. 2023 | read on ao3
INDEX | NEXT
As you peer out across the massive gravel lot and take in just how isolated this place is, you feel deeply unsettled down to your bones. So when two large hands crash onto your shoulders and squeeze, you jump, unable to hold in a squeal. Dulcet, amused laughter dances in the air, and you turn to watch your friends Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk step off the shuttle to the gravel and dirt road.
“Not funny,” you grumble, doing your best to look back and glare at Yoongi, whose palms continue to linger on your shoulders, gently rubbing small circles over your back.
“Come on,” Yoongi mutters playfully. “It was a little funny.”
Off in the distance, in the dead center of the enormous, otherwise empty lot, are large red and white circus tents surrounded by what appear to be various carnival rides and attractions, fenced in by a sprawling, winding metal gate. A plume of fire shoots out of what appears to be the center of the tents, followed by distant screams and cheers, and you instinctively pull your shoulders to your ears.
“This place creeps me the fuck out,” you grumble under your breath.
“Well, if you hate it, you can blame Jeongguk,” Yoongi unhelpfully supplies, to which Jeongguk quickly snaps, “Oh, fuck off, hyung.”
Since the moment you got onto the shuttle this morning, Yoongi and Jeongguk have been at odds. And although it seems playful on Yoongi's end, there appears to be a genuine animosity coming from Jeongguk that you do not have the context for. You are also not attempting to mediate between bickering friends on a day like today, and you hope that once you are within the carnival grounds and distracted by fun, games, fried food, and beer, everyone will get along.
As your group congregates on the gravel path, you feel a little silly for deciding to come dressed similarly, all wearing various shades of blue. It seemed like a fun idea this morning, but as you glance at all your friends, you realize that the five of you look like a pack of blueberries left to sit out in the sun. At least it is a stunning color on all of you.
Both Yoongi and Jeongguk have shorter dark brown hair with their bangs parted delicately on their foreheads, and they are outfitted in deeper shades of blue, both long-sleeve button-ups. Yoongi's shirt has pale blue horizontal stripes on the front with solid sleeves, tucked into skinny black jeans. He wears long silver earrings that make his already soft, pretty face – his pouty doll lips and button nose – seem more delicate.
Jeongguk's shirt is solid greenish-blue and loose-fitting, untucked over skinny black jeans, and he wears a black, emerald, and white striped satin scarf loosely tied beneath his lapels. Despite his sour attitude toward Yoongi, he still has a youthful glow behind his round, curious eyes, and his sharp, but pouty lips are almost always upturned into a hint of a smile.
Jimin and Taehyung – the two who are so close everyone refers to them as the soulmates of the group – are in brighter tones. Jimin wears a loose, long-sleeve, flowy blue button-up tucked into tight black slacks. His hair is short and dark brown, unstyled over his forehead, and his features are an astounding blend of pillow soft and razor-sharp, with dark eyes that alternate between piercing your soul and warming your heart.
Taehyung – always a bit of an oddball – wears an unbuttoned, long-sleeve baby blue jacket over a white long-sleeve button-up shirt with a blue windowpane pattern and matching loose-fitting slacks. He is equally stunning with deep brown eyes and rectangular lips that always seem to frown ever so slightly. His dark brown hair is beginning to grow into a soft mullet that hangs just above his eyes in the front, and below his ears in the back.
Your deep blue satin long-sleeve button-up is tucked into tight, stretchy black slacks. Unlike all the men, who wear a variation of black leather boots – aside from Taehyung, whose boots are white – you have on a pair of solid black sneakers. The only jewelry you wear is a tiny silver chain with a silver sunflower pendant – a gift Yoongi gave you for your recent birthday – and your makeup is minimal, just a little to bring out your eyes. The top two buttons of your shirt are undone with a mesh bra underneath that gives absolutely no support but makes your tits look amazing.
Yoongi's hand brushes over the small of your back, and you take a fortifying breath. With the shuttle pulling away and everyone who rode out to the carnival grounds meandering toward the entrance, you concede that your group may as well head in that direction, as well.
"What time does the shuttle return?" you ask, pulling your phone from your pocket to glance at the time. Your gaze flits to the to top of the screen, where it is clear you will likely have no service out here, causing you to sigh. It is currently 12:13 PM.
"Midnight," Taehyung responds softly, walking a few paces ahead.
Midnight. Just great. You knew, going into this, that it was going to be a long day, but now you are unsure whether there will be enough for the five of you to do during the next nearly-twelve-hours.
"No service, no way home, in the middle of nowhere," you grumble, shoving your phone back into your pocket. "Lovely."
To your right, past Yoongi and a few paces ahead, you notice Jeongguk frowning. He opens his mouth to respond, but must decide not to, because he has nothing to say. This whole thing was his idea, and at the time it seemed fun, and you know that you should probably lay off a little before you hurt the poor guy's feelings.
"Ah, cheer up!" Yoongi says, squeezing your hip. "We'll find some alcohol in there and loosen up. You'll have a good time, I promise. Besides, the more you complain, the more it will make our little Ggukie sad."
Jeongguk scoffs and rolls his eyes.
"But he's so cute when he pouts," Jimin teases over his right shoulder, voice deep and playful.
"Shut up," Jeongguk mutters, though there is a hint of a smile.
Taehyung looks over his right shoulder, past Jimin, and grins, voice even deeper and cotton-soft as he says, "It's true."
Your laughter is quiet and fleeting, but it works its way through your chest, making you feel lighter. Perhaps it is the nature of carnivals and circuses that always fill you with anxious trepidation, and that is why you feel unshakably unsettled – as if something foreboding looms thick and oppressive around you. After all, there is a theme of illusion and trickery in these types of events, and the possibility leaves you more nervous than excited.
Gravel crunches underfoot, and the closer you get to the carnival grounds, the more it seems to grow into something gargantuan. Along the outside of the metal gate are large posters of two men – the brothers who run the show. You have seen their handsome faces plastered all over the advertisements, but seeing them in larger-than-life-sized posters is somewhat intimidating.
They both wear deep red ringleader suits with white undershirts and matching red slacks, and across the tops of each poster are the words The Kim Brothers' Carnival Bizarre. One man – the leader of the show, Kim Namjoon – stands with his arms crossed over his chest, while the other – Kim Seokjin – has open arms and a wide, welcoming smile on his handsome face.
"Do you really think those two run this show?" Jimin asks. He has stopped in front of Namjoon and stares up at his poster with his hands on his hips. "How is someone this sexy in charge of a traveling circus? Aren't these things, like…I don't know…dirty?"
"They probably stay in hotels," Taehyung mutters under his breath. "But the rest of the workers might sleep in tents or something. I don't know."
"It's one night only," Jeongguk adds. "So it's possible that they all pack up and go somewhere with clean water to sleep for the night."
You begin to grumble, "Isn't that expensive," under your breath, but trail off as you take in the sights all around you.
Sure, there seems to be a lot to maintain for something like this, and there must be a great number of employees to feed, but events like this always cost an exorbitant amount to attend. The ticket alone was expensive enough that you had to budget for a couple weeks leading up to today. Factor in the large crowds of people and all the concessions, games, and rides, and you can understand how these two brothers could be walking away with a nice stack of money.
"You'd be surprised," Yoongi responds, but does not explain himself; probably he knows that he has no need to – that you are likely to sort out the details as you stare past the metal gates and into the sprawling space.
There is a tall man dressed in all black who stands beside the entrance, and Jeongguk approaches with a pep in his step, taking out his cell phone. You wonder whether Jeongguk has service or if he had the foresight to screencap the barcode that gains the five of you entrance. Either way, the man uses a device to scan his screen, and a loud beep is followed by a buzzing sound, as a hip-high metal gate swings open, and the five of you walk inside.
Jeongguk leads, followed by Jimin, Taehyung, you, and Yoongi. Once the metal gate creaks shut behind you, Yoongi's arms drape over your shoulders. He mutters, "We are trapped inside," then groans a deep, "oooohhhhhh," right behind your ear that gives you chills, both because the atmosphere of this place – even in the hot, afternoon sun – is fucking creepy, and because Yoongi's deep voice and warm breath on your neck always spark something carnal and needy inside you.
"What should we do first?" Jeongguk asks, turning to you with wide eager eyes before his gaze falls to Yoongi's arms dangling over your shoulders, causing him to turn to the others.
"Beer," Yoongi grumbles at the same time Jimin shouts, "Food!" and Taehyung offers, "Find a ticket booth?"
You chuckle and wiggle away from Yoongi's hold – a task which he does not make easy. "Food and drinks?" you recommend, while glancing around. "Maybe we'll spot a ticket booth along the way?"
Now that you are inside the carnival grounds, the layout of the place is clearer, but also much more intimidating. Three massive circus tents are in the center, and surrounding them are various game booths and rides. There seem to be funhouse attractions and larger game booths under tent awnings along the edge of the grounds, near the tall metal fences, and smaller concession stands in the center of the wide gravel path. One building nearby says Tunnel of Love, and another says Hall of Mirrors, and you cannot help but roll your eyes over how trite it all feels.
There also seems to be a sort of fog clouding your mind, making it difficult for you to focus on any one thing for too long before wanting to turn your attention elsewhere, and you blame it on nerves.
"I think I see a food truck this way," Taehyung offers, pointing off to the left, near the hall of mirrors.
As soon as food is mentioned, you swear the smell of deep-fried batter hits your nose, and you find yourself instinctively turning in that direction. It has been hours since you have eaten, and suddenly, you feel ravenous.
Taehyung and Jimin take the lead, and you begin to walk forward, out of the carnival entrance and into the space that this event occupies. Music plays – horns blaring and keys chiming at a quick, exciting tempo. You pause as you step forward, body and mind suddenly confused. Was there music playing before? Had you not noticed it?
This particular event is marketed as not being safe for children, and as you look around, all you see are adults. But the concessions, games, and rides are all those that you would expect to find at a circus or county fair swarming with kids, and you are surprised to walk past booths and find adults excitedly pointing to which large stuffed animals they would like to cash in their winnings for.
"Checking out the prizes?" Yoongi asks close enough to your ear to make you flinch.
"No," you mutter, turning your gaze away.
You had been looking at the rows of plushies, but playing fair games is not your style, and you do not want to be burdened with carrying something around for the duration of the day. A laugh follows a hand rubbing over your lower back, and you let your eyes flutter closed for just a moment as you take a fortifying breath.
"Why are you so jumpy?" Yoongi asks.
"I don't know," you respond, allowing your gaze to dance over shooting games and feats of strength. Each individual booth has its own raucous sounds and music, with someone dressed as an old-timey hobo shouting to their customers. "I just feel overwhelmed."
"You seemed keen on the idea of a carnival all week."
Yoongi is best when he is like this: soft-spoken and concerned. No quips meant to jab at his friends, nor undertones to make the little hairs on your neck stand tall. You lean toward his body heat and allow him to squeeze you in a side hug before you continue to walk forward with the group.
"I was," you say as your gaze falls to the gravel and dirt path under your feet. The smell of food is much stronger, and you take a deep inhale through your nose, letting the heavy, semi-sweet aroma fill your lungs. "There's just something so foreboding about going to the absolute middle of nowhere, with no way home. I understand not wanting to deal with having a lot full of cars, but it just seems strange to force everyone here by shuttle. What if something happens, and we're all trapped here?"
You know that you sound paranoid, and you are actually a bit shocked when Yoongi does not tease you for it.
"I'm sure nothing will happen," he responds calmly. "I'm sure these traveling shows are prepared for the worst. There were medical tents advertised on a map near the entrance, so if we need any kind of first aid, they have us covered."
You do not recall seeing a map by the entrance, but you are also not at your most observant. Thankfully, there is always someone in your group who is on top of things, and that someone is usually Yoongi, and often Taehyung.
As you look up, you see a large food truck smack dab in the center of the wide gravel path, surrounded by people standing in line and waiting for their orders. You feel an instant sense of disappointment and impatience, which you blame partially on your need to eat something.
Jimin is first to begin skipping over to the end of the line, and you follow behind, lacking his enthusiasm. The truck is massive compared to ones you are used to, and you hope that with all the extra space, there are plenty of employees inside to make orders come out quickly.
Your antsiness must show, because Jeongguk – who had also skipped excitedly to the line – leans toward you to say, "We can grab you guys something if you would rather walk around. We don't all have to wait in this line."
"It's fine," you respond, but the tone of your voice suggests that it is anything but fine.
"Come on," Yoongi says, yanking you away from the line, toward a booth several feet away. "We can play this little rubber ducky game in the shade while they wait for food in the hot sun.”
A smile creeps over your face, and you nod, allowing Yoongi to drag you off to the shade, under a large tent awning with a small game booth inside. As soon as you are out of the sun, your shoulders relax, and you feel a lot better.
"It doesn't take five of us to order, anyway," Yoongi says softly. "And I finally get a chance to have you all to myself."
Again, with the inviting tone, which you struggle to ignore now that the others are no longer within earshot. You turn your head but keep your eyes on the kiddie pool of multicolored rubber duckies floating in a slow circle as you say, "You had me all to yourself last night," in a low, teasing tone.
"And this morning," Yoongi responds, leaning close, causing your heart to flutter and your thighs to briefly clench.
Your cheeks warm, and you nibble on your lip, watching as the rubber ducks move round and round, determined not to look at Yoongi and allow him to see the effect he is having on you. There is a pastel pink one that catches your eye, and you reach for it as soon as Yoongi hands over some notes of money.
Written on the bottom of the duck is the number seven, and you turn it to face the person standing behind the counter, who takes it from your hand to inspect. The attendee is a tall, thin man dressed head to toe in black, with a piercing on the bridge of his nose. He wears smudged black eyeliner, and when he smiles at you, his long, sharp features turn soft and pretty.
"Seven, hmm…" the attendee says as he tilts his head and widens his eyes. "Not many know to reach for a seven. Those prizes are special, so you have to choose wisely."
"Special, huh?" you ask, feeling excitement build, unable to fathom what could possibly be special about a cheap carnival trinket.
The man turns to his left and walks over to a shelf to your right that you walk around to see into. As soon as you round the corner, you feel the urge to laugh; the trinkets are the same as those in the front shelf, and there hardly seems to be anything special about them.
"These are different from those?" you ask, pointing between the shelves with a playful tone.
The attendee hums, "Mmhmm," watching you with a curious, excited expression.
Sitting in little plastic bins are paper finger traps, plastic kazoos, large jawbreaker candies, little metal whistles, mirrors with paintings of tigers and dragons on them, and little yellow bird keychain plushies. Nothing particularly grabs your attention, yet you find yourself struggling to make a choice.
Jawbreakers were a favorite of yours growing up, but they get sticky too fast. And although you like the novelty of the painted mirrors, you do not want to carry one around all day. So, you point to the keychain plushies from above, and say, "I'll take one of these."
The man slides open a glass door and reaches into the case. He retrieves the exact plushie below where you point, and places it gently in front of you.
"I hope this trinket brings you luck," he says with a grin, and you find your gaze flitting nervously between the man and the toy before grabbing it and giving it a gentle squeeze. The yellow fur of the bird is soft in your hold, and it reminds you of a tiny duckling.
"Sick!" Yoongi exclaims from your left, making you chuckle. He reaches for the toy, and you hand it over, turning to watch him inspect the small yellow bird between his long fingers. "You should wear it on your belt loop," he says, and before you have a chance to agree or not, he opens the little metal fastener that it dangles from and clips it onto your left hip.
"Perfect," you say with a smile as you inspect your new toy. Warmth spreads, and you feel a little more relaxed about this whole thing; maybe the carnival is not so bad, and happiness can be collected and appreciated, one adorable plushie at a time.
"Thank you for playing," the man behind the counter says, and you glance up as he winks and walks off, leaving a different attendant to watch over the game.
"Thank you," you mutter under your breath because it feels like the polite thing to do, then you turn to exit the stall and return to your friends, who are much further in line.
Yoongi slings an arm over your shoulder, causing you to blaze hot in the afternoon sun, but you enjoy his warmth as he steers you near the front of the line.
"We're thinking about getting a pizza to share and some corn dogs," Jimin says without greeting you, and you nod, approving of their choices.
"They have beer, wine, and fruity seltzers," Taehyung adds. "Personally, I think we should get two pitchers of beer."
Yoongi squeezes your shoulder and slides his hand away to reach for his wallet. "Sounds good to me," he says, pulling out some cash.
Jeongguk stands behind the soulmates with his eyes on your bird plushie. Then his gaze snaps to yours, and he roves his eyes around as if feeling awkward about being caught staring. "It's cute," he mutters, eyes falling to your trinket once more.
"Apparently, it will bring her good luck," Yoongi teases, giving your arm a nudge with his elbow, which annoys you enough to shove him away with an elbow of your own.
Past the food truck line, there is a large open space with picnic tables, and you nod to it with your chin, leaning to Yoongi as you ask, "Should we go find a spot to sit?"
"Preferably with shade!" Jimin chimes in, and you nod; shade is a must.
"We'll be right over here," you say as you point, and the others mutter their approval and approach the counter to give their order.
To get to the open area, you have to pass through the food line, which is rather crowded, and you mutter, "Excuse me," and "Sorry," as you squeeze past people. And although most tables in the shade are taken, there is one at the far end, below a large tree, and you move a little faster in its direction to secure it before anyone else has a chance to.
As you approach the table, you find your attention stolen by the tree. Up close, it is massive, looming high with twisted branches that appear sharp, like talons upon which large green leaves dangle.
"Creepy," Yoongi grumbles, and you nod, uttering a quiet, "Uh-huh."
"I'm impressed there's a tree like this out here," he continues as he rounds the table to sit with his back to it. You opt to take the seat across from him. "This place is pretty barren."
As you look past the metal gate to your left, you see what Yoongi means. There are grassy areas here and there, and in the far distance, there are shrubs and eventually trees. But, as far as you can tell, this giant one stands on its own. A chill runs down your spine; creepy, indeed.
The rest of the group joins, with Jeongguk gripping the handles of two pitchers of beer in one hand and carrying a stack of clear plastic cups in the other, followed by Taehyung holding a pizza box, and Jimin holding a cardboard tray of corn dogs. Taehyung and Jimin sit on Yoongi's side of the table, and Jeongguk sits to your right.
"What's up with the tree?" Jeongguk asks as he begins to pour beer into each plastic cup.
Taehyung looks over his shoulder, then grumbles, "It's kind of scary," sporting a disapproving frown.
With a sigh, Jimin looks over his shoulder, then he straightens out, rolling his eyes. "It's just a tree. Thanks for finding us a spot in the shade!"
Although the food is definitely not peak quality, it hits the spot. That, plus the beer, has you feeling full and a bit dizzy, and you anchor your palm to the wooden seat and lean slightly to your right, toward Jeongguk. The wind carries hints of his floral, musky scent, which you have always found to be pleasant.
"What should we do first?" Yoongi asks, and you turn to your right to look around, catching Jeongguk's eye, instead.
"I like the hall of mirrors," Jeongguk says, looking down at your hand that rests inches from him, then up at the others.
"Tunnel of love," Jimin sing-songs playfully.
Taehyung looks at his phone, then says, "There's an illusion show at 1:30 that we should see."
"That sounds cool," Yoongi says as he tilts his head, looking at you, then at Jeongguk, and back. "What about you?"
You shrug, unsure what you would like to do.
"I suppose we should try to see the scheduled shows," you reason. "Then we can decide what to do in between."
It is close enough to 1:30 that the five of you down the rest of the beer and stand from the table with tandem groans. Stretching feels good, and you lift your arms over your head and yawn. Taehyung gathers the trash on top of the pizza box, and Jeongguk picks up the pitchers, following Taehyung toward a large waste receptacle, on top of which is a space for the pitchers.
"I think the show is under the largest tent," Taehyung says as your group exits the space and walks toward the red and white striped tents.
"This place is huge," Yoongi says as his fingers find yours, tickling enough to make you jerk your hand away before allowing him to grab and hold it.
"Good thing we coordinated," Jimin chirps happily, looking down at his blue shirt, then at Taehyung's light blue jacket. "Don't need any of us getting lost."
The carnival space truly is massive, and as you approach the large tents, you feel somewhat overwhelmed. The two smaller ones are about as tall as a small house, and the large one is at least twice its size. Just walking in a circle around the carnival grounds must take quite a while, and you begin to wonder if you will even get to see everything there is to see before midnight.
Beside the entrance of the tent is the man who ran the rubber duck game, only this time, he is head to toe in white. His long-sleeved shirt crosses over his torso and tucks into loose-fitting pants, and he wears chunky white boots and a hat with long white ears that hang to his hips. Although he does not appear to recognize you, you smile widely anyway.
"Here for the illusions show?" the man asks, and you nod, saying, "There's five of us."
The man lifts his hands and holds out a stack of black cards adorned with a gold leaf design of a skull pierced through with a dagger. "You must pick a card," he says, eyes drifting over your group.
You swallow thickly and reach for one of the center cards, taking it by the corner between your thumb and index finger and gently tugging, then you flip it over to reveal the image of a skeleton dressed in a black robe. It holds a sword in one hand and a gold cup in the other, and around it are various symbols, including a glowing infinity sign above its head. The Magician is written along the bottom in gold, and you rub your thumb over the slightly raised text.
One by one, your friends all pick cards. Yoongi laughs as he reads, "The Fool," aloud, and you lean in to see a similar robed skeleton figure on his, depicted carrying a basket.
Taehyung frowns as he reads, "Death," showing the same cloaked skeleton with its hands crossed over its chest, and Jimin's eyes light up as he says, "The Hanged Person," revealing the familiar skeleton hanging by its ankles from a rope. The only card that differs in theme is Jeongguk's, which depicts a crumbling tower being struck by lightning.
The man in white reaches out, taking Jeongguk's card first. "The Tower," he says, "upheaval, sudden change, and chaos. Very good – embrace that. And yours," he takes Jimin's card. "Ah, The Hanged Person. Surrender, letting go, and new perspectives. A fine card; full of promise. Let's see, here," he says, reaching for Taehyung's card, glancing up at your frowning friend with a sympathetic smile. "Don't let Death scare you. They symbolize endings, transition, and transformation, which can seem intimidating, but these things are vital for the human experience."
Taehyung hums under his breath and shoves his hands into his pockets as the man in white steps closer, reaching for Yoongi's card. "The Fool," he says, glancing up with a grin. "Innocence, new beginnings, and spontaneity. Is this true?"
Yoongi blinks, then shrugs, and says, "I suppose so."
The man hums and says, "Jumping into new things may be fun, but try not to dive head-first too often. You never know what could be lurking in the depths."
With an amused scoff, Yoongi responds, "Alright."
"And you, my dear, what have we here?" the man asks, reaching toward your hands.
"The magician," you mutter, handing the card over.
"The magician," the man responds with a wide smile, studying your face. His eyes fall to your hands, then past them to the bird plushie on your side. "Cute," he says, cocking his head to the side, and you watch him, feeling puzzled; how could he have already forgotten about you winning the trinket less than an hour ago? Have so many people played the rubber duck game?
"Power, manipulation, and action," the man says, lifting his wide, coal-smudged eyes to yours. "How does it make you feel?"
"Uh, w-well, I suppose—" you stammer, attempting to find the words. Then you mutter, "I don't know. I guess I don't feel anything."
The man hums, says, "You will," and winks before turning toward the entrance to the tent.
As the man lifts the tent flap, he looks over your shoulder and shouts, "Last call for the illusions show! Line starts here!"
"Jack!" a voice calls from within the tent, and the man in white turns to look over his shoulder, into the darkness. He converses with whoever caught his attention, but you cannot see who that person is.
When the man in white – presumably named Jack – turns back, he catches your eye and says, "We have five remaining VIP spots. Come this way and follow Seokjin hyung."
You hesitate to step forward when a man in a blood-red suit comes stepping into view, who you recognize instantly as Kim Seokjin, one of the two brothers who run the event. Seokjin is somehow more stunning in person, with his dark hair swept off his forehead, revealing a piercing gaze and welcoming smile. And when he stands tall and gestures with his hand, saying, "Come this way!" his presence is commanding.
You follow, stepping into the dimly lit tent as Seokjin leads you around to the right, past tall wooden bleachers atop which people are chattering and finding their seats. "Just a little further," he says over his shoulder, leading you deeper into the space.
Coming out from between bleachers ahead is a glowing gold light, and Seokjin leads you toward it, then takes a left, into it. You squint as soon as you turn, hit by bright spotlights that are bursting from the center of the ring, and then Seokjin stops and holds his hand out to the right, to the first wooden row, which is empty.
"Here you are!" Seokjin calls. "Enjoy the show!"
"Why were we given VIP?" Yoongi calls over your shoulder, to which Seokjin grins.
"Right place at the right time…" He responds, drawing out the last word while studying your group. "And a good combination of cards."
"Oh," you respond as Taehyung and Jimin pass you to take their seats. Jeongguk is next, and you step forward to sit beside him, assuming he may not want to be stuck next to Yoongi.
"Thank you!" you call just as Seokjin turns away, waving his hand in the air behind himself.
From somewhere inside the ring, there is a large burst of music – horns and keys – that makes you startle, and you laugh to yourself, feeling silly for being so jumpy. Clowns and acrobats come flipping and twirling through the gap in between bleachers beside you as the loud music builds, becoming a quick, chaotic symphony.
The performers line the ring, dancing and twisting, jumping and cartwheeling, cheering and singing. It is so loud and so frenzied, you have a hard time trying to find a spot to focus on, watching them move in small individual circles while traversing around the ring in greater circles, making you dizzy and somewhat disoriented.
"Come one, come all!" a loud, deep, welcoming voice booms over the noise. "Welcome to Carnival Bizarre! The greatest show in the world!"
When the other Kim brother you recognize from the posters – Namjoon – suddenly appears in the center of the ring in a burst of smoke, you feel surprised and a bit confused. The performers circle around him, and he holds his arms high, blood-red suit bright under the shine of the many spotlights.
Although you cannot perfectly see him from this distance, you imagine that he is not only smiling, but that he is staring directly at you. A chill shimmies down your spine, and you want to look away, but you find that you cannot; your eyes are fixed on the magnanimous man in the swelling center of the encircling chaos.
Held in Namjoon's hand is a cane, the top end of which is glowing bright like fire, and you watch as he twirls and points with it, following its path at the music crescendos, feeling a heavy weight in your chest that threatens to overwhelm, if only you could tear your eyes away and allow yourself to think clearly.
And then the music stops, and the lights shift off, save for a bright white spotlight that glows on Namjoon. He opens his empty hand, and something that looks like a burst of orange, glittering fire rises from his palms, shimmering in the air as it lifts up, up, up, to the top of the tent, so high above that you lose sight of it.
Vaguely, it feels as if tears are running from your eyes, staining your cheeks in warm streaks, but you cannot lift your hands to check, nor can you blink. You sit stunned and stiff as a board, staring up into the dark tent, waiting to be told where to look next.
Jack, the man in white, appears before you. His fingertips touching your chin shakes you from your reverie, and you gasp as you meet his eyes. Something is happening on the floor of the ring – slow, sultry music you don't remember hearing a moment ago seems to be accompanying several performers, but it is hard to make out much past Jack standing in the way.
"Heads or tails," Jack says with a smile, and before you can respond, he flips a coin, sending it high into the air. "Heads, you see all; tails, you only remember what feels good."
You tilt your head back to watch the coin, barely aware of the fact that nobody else seems to be seeing it. It is almost as if Yoongi and Jeongguk are sitting with their heads slumped forward, but you cannot tear your eyes away from the ascending coin to check.
"Heads or tails?" Jack asks, and you open your mouth to respond, barely registering the word that comes from between your quivering lips.
With a quick snap of his arm, Jack reaches high and snatches the coin from the air, then he crouches low before you, taps his fingers to your chin, and says, "Very good, ducky; you may sink, now. See you soon."
You mutter a soft, "Very good," as your head slumps forward, the music quietly swells to a stop, and everything fades to black.
Tell me what you've come for
What is it you adore
Won't you tell me?
What would you cry for
Swallow your pride for?
What would you, oh, go wild for?
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heyyyyyy, how are we feeling??? i am so excited to have chapter 1 out, and i have many things in store for you (including the conclusion of the illusions show and what the crew does next.) there are two polls going up some time in 8-12 hours from posting, so be sure to keep an eye out for those!
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Carnival of Terror is a Goosebumps-inspired fic, copyright theharrowing 2023. no translations or reposting allowed!
#yoongi x reader#yoongi smut#yoongi angst#bts smut#bts angst#bts horror#choose your own adventure#fic: carnival of terror
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AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER ONE
Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Identifying! Reader
Summary: In the fall of 1939, You are an incoming freshman at Berkeley. Despite your love for literature and the pressure of your parents, you begrudgingly enroll in a Physics course. There you meet J. Robert Oppenheimer; your professor turned into your best friend and most importantly, your lover.
Word Count: 4.5k
Warnings: Nothing major, minus the huge age gap. The reader is 18, and Oppenheimer is at least thirty. Everything is legal and consensual. If this bothers you, please do not read it; thank you!
Notes: gonna be a long note, so strap in folks. so i have this tendency to get hyperfocused on a piece of media, get my little gremlin hands on any piece of media about it, devour said piece of media, and then poop out 5k+ words in under 24 hours due to my obsession. this happened two years ago with safin from no time to die, and let me just say that it goes to show that history is a sick cycle. not sick, I'm just literally insane. lol, anyways! here's some lore. last Sunday i saw oppenheimer and thought it was a masterpiece! i also love cillain murphy too, so that's a massive bonus. the next day, i bought american prometheus. i started reading it on tuesday, and finished it on Friday. if you haven't read it, please go read it. the book is impossible to put down, and a lot of characterization of robert and other characters come from the movie, but mainly the novel. this fic is heavily researched. this fic is also very dark too, and the content is...yeah. the age gap is very massive and while legal, very taboo, so please keep this in mind. there will be dark content in this story so be warned. trigger warnings will be in the beginning of every chapter.
this is on my tumblr and ao3 as well. here is a playlist i made while writing this , if that does anything. my masterlist is also at work too; the new and updated version will be out next chapter. <a href="url">add yourself to the taglist if you are interested</a>. thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy.
There are people talking, and while they are close, their voices are nothing but mindless mutters.
Despite how much they had to drink, the buzz managed to slow their thoughts yet made them somewhat aware of their surroundings. If you tried, not like they really wanted to, you could point out every little detail around them–all small things, meaningless and unimportant, in the vast growing universe.
The uneven vintage ski portrait on Hatomi’s side of the room, the dim light covered by the French literature nights on the window sill, the light of the moon in boxy shapes across the aged wooden door, your feet sticking out underneath the blanket and the cool air bringing goosebump to your toes, the heat of your flashlight against your cheek; it’s all so small.
You’ve known Hatomi, your roommate at Berkeley, for the last week. A Japanese American from Davis, she’s a lover of literature like you, albeit you’re more into Russian and American literature than French. Both of you have concluded that you are different but are different enough to put those said differences aside to be friends. Hatomi, unlike you, is smiley and bright, the type to make a conversation not as awkward. She’s made many friends, some of whom are yours, and you’re thankful for her. In your orientation week at Berkeley, she’s helped you break out of your shell, and you’ve gone around campus and to parties to get out and meet people.
As thankful as you are for Haotmi, you are not very thankful about her bringing in some guy into the room without making it clear and having full-blow sex. Hatomi tries to keep her moans contained, but the slapping and grunts from the man beneath are not in any way contained or quiet. He’s as loud as possible, and you can identify him from one of the many parties you’ve been to, but all of them in your state become a gradual blur.
There’s a visible outline of the two through your quilt. Hatomi’s on top, and said the man is on the bottom with messy hair. He’s got a hand on her hip, and she nudges forward, her body moving forward. It makes you feel even lonelier than you already feel, but it's not intentional, but it’s certainly a jab. Hatomi cries his name, an emphasis on the end of his name.
You haphazardly try to catch his name, but end up forgetting it, the alcohol from earlier helping sing you to sleep.
–
It soon became a cycle—the whole lot of it.
You’d wake up at seven for your eight in the morning English class. Then you’d head to your philosophy class from nine-thirty to ten-thirty before heading to lunch at eleven. After that break, then comes your Greek class from twelve to one. Then it’s physics.
It’s not that you don’t like physics. Actually, you love it—the concept is fascinating. The movement, gravity, and being a small thing in the grand scheme of the infinite universe is a topic you could dive into for hours on end. And not to mention, you have a burning hatred for the mathematics of it. You know you can do introductory algebra, but that’s where you draw the line. Calculus and all of that is too advanced. You can do it; at the bare minimum.
Your class is not that big. It’s your smallest class with ten students, all intrigued by a fascinating professor.
The first time you met him, he stood by the chalkboard with a huff of smoke following behind him. He wore a dark gray tweed suit and had thick, coarse hair which was wild, maintained with gel. He was tall but not towering and rather slender. With the bluest eyes you had ever seen, you knew that this man was a character; not to mention, he also looked intelligent.
And that he was.
Dr.Oppenheimer was the reason you started actually to love physics. Not like, love. He was not an easy teacher; he was complex but rewarding. He took the concept of physics and made it more interesting than it already was, adding another dimension to it that you didn’t think was possible.
Instead of the class being a lecture, Oppenheimer discussed the fundamental forces and philosophy. He, like you, enjoyed how physics interacted with the classical world. With a cigarette in one hand and a piece of chalk in another, and in his velvety voice, Oppenheimer taught something along the lines of the cosmic universe or the quantum tunnel and would look to his students for their input, arguments, questions, or their voice to the topic.
You know, or thought he knew, that you weren’t the best at physics, but could always add a philosophical or insight on how physics affects both in the modern and classical world. Sometimes in class, the two of you would dive into a conversation. Oppenheimer would give you a serious loo, staring directly at you with his bright blue eyes. You could have sworn they were the bluest eyes you had ever seen, in which you were. As you challenge you, Oppenehiemr would stare, blowing the occasional puff of smoke. You could see him smile, but maybe that was a part of your imagination.
Physics was complicated, but not only did you enjoy the class for Oppenheimer, but you also look at Oppenheimer. You would not have said it initially, but he did come and was attractive to you. He looked serious, older, and cold; which all remained true, but he was also intelligent, and that was the most attractive thing to you. His intelligence made him overall even more handsome than he already was. With this new found elevation, you soon began to find everything he did attractive. It became a slight distraction, but it was enough to make you leave class with pink cheeks and smile to yourself all giddy. The fantastical thoughts of “what if” played in your mind, making going to sleep a little easier than it usually it.
–
On Monday, Oppenheimer deemed that your class was heading into the “most brutal” and “nightmare-causing” fundamental force of Physics; Quantum Mechanics.
He also declared it was one of his favorite micro topics in Physics and, in his mind, “not too difficult if you truly look into it.”
Everyone got a horrible gut feeling in their stomachs.
Oppenheimer was blunt and did not sugarcoat, which was a fair warning to his class. Quantum Mechanics took everything that was horrible about Physics and made it increasingly worse. Wavefunctions, Eigenstates, Quantum Measurement, and all the new equations hit you like a frictional force. And it began to show on your assignments.
Your normal average in the class was an A- (with Oppenheimer giving you an E for “exceptional effort”) hanging off the side of a cliff, but this new topic dragged your average down with massive magnetic force. Soon, your average became a B-. Homework assignments and reading responses leaned towards a B, while your test and quizzes averaged at failing or border failing. You felt relieved that one of your quizzes on Bra-Ket Notation came back as a C+.
Oppenheimer was writing on the board, finishing a Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle equation on the board. He looked at the clock, knowing that class was going to end soon. Putting his chalk down and burning the small amount of his cigarette on the ashtray, he reached for a large stack of his papers. Most had red handwriting with circles, arrows, and question marks. A heavy wave of anxiety hit the class as a perpetual sigh raised.
You could have sworn Oppenheimer stared directly at you. The vast blue eye started to haunt you, but you convinced yourself it was your mind playing tricks. You turned to one of your neighborhoods and sighed, shaking your head.
“I understand you are all eager to receive back the recent test on the basic equations of Quantum Mechanics. I have taken my time grading each one and you will see why it looks like a long time,” Oppenheimer noted, with a tinge of dark comedy and sarcasm in his voice. He didn’t look up at the class as he walked around, gently putting each paper on the desk. Each paper he put down made a student who was having a good day a very not good day.
Between the heavy sighs and whispers between the students, you gulped as Oppenheimer passed your desk. He looked down for a split second and put your paper down. He pointed to the red writing right where you had written your name before moving on. Gathering yourself, you grabbed the test, and not your shock, was disappointed.
Out of forty-five points, you had only gotten nine. It was a new low you had hit in the class. It seemed like it would keep getting lower. Everything was far from right, and he gave those points only because you tried by writing a passage by each equation explaining what you had tried to replicate, knowing it was very wrong.
You skimmed the front, noticing the red writing on top. He wrote your name in cursive, and you would hear him say it, asking you to “please” meet him.
And then the bell rang. People talked amongst themselves and gathered their things as they headed out of the classroom. You sat there and sighed, visibly upset. You weren’t going to cry, but you felt like it. You tried not to show it as you began to gather your books, covering the physics test, preparing to get up.
“Y/n.”
You freeze and look up. Oppenheimer has been leaning on his desk, looking at you like a dashing Spectre. He puts his hands in his pockets and slowly begins to walk towards you.
“Is this a good time to talk?”
Hearing the word talk made your stomach turn. You look up at him and clasp your hands together, nodding. You feel your left leg begin to shake.
“Yes, Dr.Oppenheimer.”
Oppenheimer made his way over and stood beside you, leaning on the side of a desk, looking down at you. He took a quick glance at your shaking leg before looking back at you.
“You’re not in trouble.”
You didn’t verbally acknowledge him, but you took a contained sigh and stopped shaking your thigh, paying full attention to the attractive older man.
“I want to preface this conversation that you, Y/n, are one of this class’s most active and enjoyable students. Your participation and observation add onto the lesson, helping others around you, and even myself, learn more about Physics,” Oppenheimer said with high praise. He had a regalness to his soft voice. You felt your cheeks burn, containing your smile as you quietly thanked him. You watched his hands fidget inside of his pants pocket.
“As talented and educated as you are in Academia, especially Physics, I notice you don’t do well on tests and exams. Everything else is excellent, and your effort is always there. However, with tests,” Oppenheimer moved his hand downwards, “It’s all negative. When I got your first test, I found it hard to believe it was your work. But then it all made sense.”
“Now understand, Y/n, I am not mad or upset. I am worried. I can see there is an act of force, which is your anxiety. I do believe this is something we can work on–” Oppenheimer clearly explained. He saw your shoulders lower, relieve your tension had disappeared, “--Together, outside of the academic setting.”
“Like one-on-one?” You questioned.
Oppenheimer nodded, “Yes, just the two of us. It would be an hour and a half to an hour, nothing more and nothing less.”
Hearing “just the two of us” made your mind go to wild places. You bit your tongue and squeezed your clasped hands together. You smiled, “Yes, of course. I think this would help a lot.”
“Now tell me, what is your availability? I understand you are busy.”
You shrugged your shoulders. You were busy but also could make time for a lot of spare time.
“I can do any time work, preferably if you are okay with Friday afternoons,” You brainstormed, thinking about your schedule, “I know you teach a graduate class in the morning, and I have Greek at the same time.”
Oppenheimer furrowed his eyebrows, intensely studying your appearance.
“Friday afternoons?” He questioned, “Don’t you want to be with your friends and not have to worry about work? I understand your drive, Y/n, but I don’t want it to mix with your limited downtime. I hear you are an excellent student, and this is a very fixable grade. I rather you create a balance than an offset.
While an average first-year would rather skip meeting with a Professor on Friday Afternoons, it didn’t bother you. Getting your grade up in Physis was very important. Education in your family was everything and meant a lot to you. Seeing a C with A’s and A-’s made you feel incomplete. You needed to feel complete.
“Dr.Oppenheimer, thank you for your concern. I insist that Fridays work as well. Mondays through Tuesdays, I’m either studying or leading other study groups for my other classes. If you are worried about my social life, I can assure you that I do get out of the dorm and library with my friends,” You reassured the older man, “Besides, the whole party scene is really not my scene. I’ve seen enough parties at Berkeley to be okay with missing them. If Fridays don’t work, I will work with your time.”
“Fridays work well for me as they work well for you,” Dr.Oppenheimer concluded. He looked at the clock above his desk before looking at you, “How do Fridays at 5 pm sound?”
“Perfect timing, Dr.Oppenheimer. Shall we meet here?”
Oppenheimer rubbed his index and middle finger on the temple of his head, “Well if you are comfortable, I’d rather congregate at my house rather than the classroom since we will be out of the Academic Day.”
Taken aback by the bold move, your lips made a subtle “o” shape. You squeezed your hands together, contemplating. His house, where he slept, ate, and did other things that were not fit for the academic setting? This made your imagination run wild—the idea of being in his house, just you and him, fed into your fantasy.
“My house is on Shasta Road. It’s right off the campus. It’s a short walk. However, if you are not comfortable, especially late at night walking home alone, then I can–”
“Dr.Oppenheimer,” You insisted. He stopped speaking and looked at you, waiting for you to speak.
You stuttered, feeling the heat up your throat to your face, “It is okay. Friday at 5 pm at your house is perfect. The walk will help me clear my mind before tackling the equations.”
Oppenheimer studied your features for a second before coughing and putting his hands together, “So, it’s settled. We will meet tomorrow then. Thank you for your time, y/n.”
As Oppenheimer began to head back to his desk, you stood and gathered your books, ready to head to your Greek class. You could feel how hot your face was, but you couldn’t imagine how red and embarrassing you looked.
“Thank you, Dr.Oppenheimer.
Scurrying to leave the classroom in a flustered state, one of your books falls over. It makes a loud slamming noise into the ground. You’ve got a solid amount of books in your hand, varying in topic and weight. Turning around, you are about to awkwardly bend down to pick up the book, but Oppenheimer has beaten you to it. His presence scared you at first. He’s holding the ivory, aged book, examining the cover and back. You stand two inches away from him as you cradle your books, not wanting to say something to disrupt him.
“Sentimental Education. Is this for class or pleasure?” Oppenheimer inquired. He looked back at you as he placed it on top of your books. He saw the one below, your Greek textbook, was sticking out and about to fall. He made sure to push it in to balance the books and make sure you didn't fall over.
Not that you were complaining about falling over since he would have to catch you. You cursed at your wild imagination.
You let out a long uhm before declaring it was for class. More specifically, your English class of The French Adventure: Word, Sound, and Image taught by Mr.Chevalier. But it was unimportant. It was a good book, albeit obscure. Oppenheimer probably thought you were some idiot for both failing a test and reading some silly book. He probably wondered why you were even in a physics class to begin with.
“Do you like it?” He questioned.
“Yes, a lot,” You expressed, “It’s the second book we’ve read, but so far my favorite. It was ahead of its time,” You go red, “And even for this time. I don’t know what I’m saying even, my parents made me read it in high school.”
Oppenheimer made a noise of approval, placing his hands on his hips, “Well, it shows that your parents wanted you to be well-rounded, and here you stand at one of the best public universities in the world. So I would say you do know what you are saying since I fully agree.”
The compliment made you want to make some happy noise, but you bite your lip. You nodded your head and naked it, knowing it came out as a mumble. Everything you said felt super embarrassing.
“Y/n, I understand you have class,” Oppenheimer cut to the point, “But if you ever want a book recommendation, come to me. I’ve been looking for someone who understands.”
“Understand?” You asked, dumbfounded.
“Someone who both understands and enjoys art.”
“Oh,” is all you can manage to say. You smile and hold your books closer, “Well, I should-”
“You should-” Oppenheimer highlighted, hands on his hips, “I shouldn’t keep you.”
You wanted to protest that he should, but you didn’t. As you made your way to the door, you looked back. There he stood in his slender and regal form, hands on his hips. For a cold man who never looked happy, he did. You could have sworn his eyes had a spark to them that made them brighter. You felt brighter too.
On your way out, he froze and looked at you again, and gave a small smile.
You smiled back.
–
It’s 4:50pm.
Your mother always said it was better to be very early than to be very late. Those words guided you through life, following you from home to high school to Berkeley.
After class, you spent the hour getting ready. Taking a shower, you made sure to look your best with low effort. You didn’t want it to appear that you were trying to look good, even though you wore it. Putting on something very casual, you made sure to wear yourself nicely and even added a sweet touch of Chanel Coco perfume that your father had gotten for you in France for your high school Graduation.
You walk up the hill and spot the house, recognizing the numbers on the mall box. The house is well sized and has the architecture of a craftsman. It’s hidden by numerous large plants and bushes, which you take a second to admire as you walk to the door. Eventually, you reach the door and hesitate to knock. Check your watch, it’s 5:52pm. If he’s busy, you can wait.
There’s no point in knocking since you can hear the lock on the door unlock. As you put your hands behind your back, the door opens and it reveals Oppenheimer. He looks weirdly normal and this comforts you. He swaps his flannel suit jacket for a white oxford button up with dark slacks. The top button of the shirt is unbuttoned, and in one hand he has a cigarette, in which he is trying to successfully hide.
“Dr.Oppenheimer,” You greeted with a small smile, squeezing your hands behind your back.
You could swear you saw a small quirk at the side of Oppenheimer’s mouth. He stands to the side.
“Y/n, welcome,” He greets. You quietly thank in as you walk in, standing to the side as you clutch onto your brown leather alligator bag with your textbook and notebook.
“How was the walk?”
“Not bad. It’s nice outside. I’m sorry if I’m early, it’s a bad habit-”
“No need to apologize. It is a good habit. It will serve you well,” Oppenheimer praised once again as he led you into the kitchen. You hadn't been alone with him, let alone in his own house, but he was different. Around others, he was cold and calculated to a tee. But around you, something felt warm and strangely comforting.
When walking to the kitchen, you catch a glimpse of his house. It feels rather empty, and in a way, very melancholic.
The kitchen is simple and small. For a California one story however, the kitchen can fit more than two, maybe three.
“Sit,” Oppenheimer subtly commands. It’s not an intentional command, but upon hearing this, you immediately sit down on the nearest chair. As you pull out your textbook and notebook with some pens and pencils, you can see Oppenheimer rummaging through the fridge and grabbing two glasses.
“Do you drink?”
You're in the middle of opening your notebook. You look down and lick your lips.
“Yes.”
He doesn’t respond and proceeds to make whatever drink he is making. You sit there and swing your legs back and forth, waiting in silence minus the shaking and pouring.
“Speak to me,” Oppenheimer announces. You look at his back as he makes the drink. Once again, he’s slender, but yet strong and vibrant in his appearance, “Go to the first page of your test. Read the equation.”
You feel lucky Oppenheimer’s turned since your cheeks, like yesterday, have gone to a light pink.
Obeying his words that feel like a command that you are more than happy to accept, you grab your test and open to the first page to read the first question.
“Consider a particle in a one-dimensional potential well of width of L and infinite potential barriers at its edges. The potential inside the well is given by V(x)=0 for 0<x<L0<x<L and V(x)=∞V(x)=∞ for x < 0 x<0 and x>Lx>L,” You read out, “The Hamiltonian operator for this system is H; where x is the mass of the particle. Find the allowed energy eigenvalues and corresponding eigenfunctions for this system.”
“A fundamental. Now, tell me your answer.”
You get your pen and calculator out, placing it at your side. “I started with the Time-Independent Schrödinger Equation and substituted v(x) for the kinetic energy term. Then I tried to solve and it, uhm-”
Not only were the calculations for your test both difficult to answer and hard to process, but having Oppenheimer stand right behind you further proved to be a brain block. He was only an inch away from you as he had leaned to look at your paper, a hand on the back of your sheet which scraped your warm back. You had been so caught on the equation that you hadn't noticed he was an inch behind you, breathing down your neck. Thank god there had been a table since your legs began to shake; a combination of raw anxiety and pure adrenaline.
You started to write the equation into your calculator, pressing down on each button. Scribbling away at your notebook, you felt his warm breath down your throat. Just as you wrote the solution, you felt him smell behind your ear and into your hair. You had sprayed some perfume there, which was a habit of yours. He leaned into, gentle and careful not to touch you, taking in the airy and smooth feminine scent. Not protesting, you finished your solution and let him bask, all while basking his cold yet comforting presence.
“The corresponding eigenfunctions are: ∣ψn⟩= Asin(nπxL)∣ψ n ⟩ =Asin( Lnπx ),” You gulped. You felt his warm presence move back, yet his hand remained on the chair. You pushed a piece of hair back, “I guess it’s not too different from my old answer. It’s right, it’s just-”
“The math piece of it,” Oppie pointed out, “Well, there was no issue here. With your calculator of course.”
“Yes,” You chuckled to yourself and looked at the big device. It really did help.
“Use it more,” Oppenheimer said, “Don’t be scared too. Math is not everyone’s strong suit; including mine.”
You smiled at him as he sat in the chair next to you.
“I don’t know if you drank from our conversation earlier, but I made you a martini,” Oppenheimer said. You looked at it and picked up the drinking, examining the liquid.
“Oh, thank you. I do, just the…better stuff,” You thanked with a small confession. You took a sip and let the strong liquid ooze down your throat. It was excellent, in which you proceeded to drink more.
Oppenheimer leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself. He wanted to make sure you didn’t see that, but you did.
For the next hour, the two of you talked about your test. Each question you read out, and he helped you with the math, but overall you were able to solve most of it. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress. He seemed pleased, and you were as well.
Once you had finished going over the test, you sighed and leaned back leisurely from both Oppenheimer's presence Martini.
“Well, thank you, Dr.Oppenheimer. This has been short, yet helpful.”
He crossed his arms as he also leaned back, “Of course, I’m pleased to hear.”
There was a silence before you looked at your watch and grabbed your books.
“It’s 6pm. I’m sure you’ve got things to do, I should go-”
“I’ve only got dinner to make. Chicken, peas, and potatoes,” Oppenheimer said. He smoked another cigarette, which made you wonder how many he smoked a day. You focused on his chapped lips and the way they lightly held the cigarette, sucking in and dragging out ashen smoke.
“Say, would you like to stay for dinner? There's plenty for two.”
The task made you blink a few times to make sure this wasn’t one of your fantastical thoughts late at night as a way to soothe you to bed. You opened your lips in an attempt to create a coherent response.
“I can make you another Martini, even show you.”
You knew you were red, but it clearly to him did not matter.
“Yes, I’d love-would be happy to stay for dinner, Dr.Oppenheimer.” You said, very flattered.
A slow exhale released a veil of smoky allure, as if the very air itself surrendered to Oppenheimer’s fiery elegance.
“If you are staying over for dinner from now on, please, call me Robert.”
#carrie writes#cillain murphy#cillian murphy x reader#oppenheimer#oppenheimer x reader#robert j oppenheimer#robert j oppenheimer x reader#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy fanfiction
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AO3 Ghost Kid in Gotham
Ghost Kid in Gotham's first Chapter is now available on AO3.
It took some time but the Fanfic can now be found there but be warned. Updates will be slow since it will heavily depend on when the chapters are finished going through editing. Also chapters might have additional content or slightly changed content. Since all Parts Posted here on tumblr are essential the RAW Version.
Summary:
Danny's Parents did not take the truth very well. Clockwork only saw one way to make sure that the Timeline would not become a doomed one and for his King not to lose his humanity. So he entrusted Danny to Lady Gotham who gave him to his rightful family.
Damian did not think he would ever meet his twin again after he had killed him. But now he was faced with his twin at the age he had died at and it looked like his mother had not only preserved his twins body but also put him through experiment's concerning Lazarus Water.
>>Masterpost where the Original Parts can be found.
#danny phantom#danny fenton#dp x dc#fanfic#crossover#damian wayne#jason todd#tim drake#richard grayson#batfam#batpham#danny and damian are twins#de aging#de aged danny#feral danny#slow updates#ao3 link#no beta wie die like danny#edited#Revisionen Chapters#dpxdc#dcxdp
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I went scrolling through anti ao3 tags and blogs because I was bored and not doing the shit I need to do and you know for a group of people who every year twice a year throw such hissy fits you’d think they’d at least have a point, but all their arguments make no sense(except their one main one that they almost never use?--why??) Like ok, there is one argument for why people shouldn’t give money to ao3, and that is the argument that ao3 is bad website because it has bad policies and refuses to moderate. I disagree, but ultimately if someone thinks that ao3 should update the TOS and moderate what fan fiction they allow, it makes sense that that person would be against the site making money because… well they are against the sites founding principles, I’m not shocked they don’t want it to succeed.
But the rest of the arguments!? Man they make no sense at all
“They are scamming you there is no way they need that much money”, ”its immoral to give money to ao3 because they already have so much!”, “Even if ao3 was perfect, its ridicuslous to give 100K to a fan fiction site!” — like… maybe I’m the asshole here, but ao3 made about 250,000 this spring, so they make about 500,000 a year… that’s just not that much money! That could what, pay for 10-30 employees at best! And that’s not counting the actual cost of all the shit they currently spend their money on! I get that ao3 is run by unpaid volunteers so antis think that 500K is a lot, but that’s not true! That’s not a lot of money at all! It might be a lot of money for an individual but for a company that’s practically pennies. Wikipedia, which granted is a lot bigger than ao3, with 57,218,269 pages to ao3s 6 million works, makes 155 million to ao3 500,000. According to antis ao3 has over a million in reserve and well according to wikipedia they have net assets of US$240 million. One is clearly more than the other!
I saw someone say that servers should be 1K, which is so stupid and out of touch with eveything I almost died laughing. I had a project using firebase this semester, I created 2 projects within firebase one for my school project and one to dick around and figure out. I accidentally set my test database to a “pay as you go” version instead of a free version. And almost had to pay a thousand dollars for the month! I wasn’t even using that database it was just sitting there but I check my google billing to make sure I wasn’t paying anything and it turns out I was! 150 dollars actually so that sucks! (My fault though)
Also also I keep seeing that its ridiculous and evil to pay the much for a site that “doesn’t improve” but the “doesn’t improve” is referring to A) no changes in TOS, which I don’t want to happen any way so good. B) the fact that it’s still in beta, which I don’t give a fuck about and I don’t understand why I should care. I think antis are dont like that the layout hasn’t changed but I don’t want to the layout to change. Also things come out of beta because they are a commercial product to be sold(this is very simplified), which is why some things come out of beta to waaaay to early and are glitchy as all hell! Ao3 isn’t being sold to me its slowly being built and archiving things that would probably be lost, and it will probably technically be in beta forever, but it doesn't effect me and I don't care. Would it be better if it came out of beta only to continously updated like a lot other shit does. I don't really play video games but I know ppl that do so I know at least once a game came out that didn't really work and people needed to later update shit for it to function and I'd argue thats worse than a functional website just being in beta forever. C) The claim that it hasn’t changed at all, which is just not true! They added the exclude section and eventually added the blocking shit. The blocking took too long to come out, so I guess in this sea of dumb criticism theres at least 1 piece of critism that makes sense. And finally again I don’t want it to change! Every other week we are all bitching that Tumblr or YouTube or Instagram or any other app are needlessly changing the layout or adding shit we don’t want in order to keep up with latest trends, make it more marketable or try and attracted new users. Ao3 is great because its never going to change. Ao3 and Craigslist will always kinda look like ass and I’m ok with that. If it aint broke ¯_(ツ)_/¯
I could keep going but there is no point. I just think they are all so stupid.
--
The thing about beta is the funniest because AO3, like oldschool shit from the 90s, has actual criteria for coming out of beta.
It's not "we've been going for 10 years" or "we want to sell the product": it's "we've checked off all the things on this checklist".
And they still haven't done them all, so it's still in beta.
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High Life
Thank you @pokewatcher20 for allowing me to make this!
Prologue
18 players spawned around a fountain. Some new faces, some old but everyone has no clue on what's in store for this new series. An avian with parrot wings steps forward with a smirk. "Welcome to High Life. Unlike before, this season is in a city. There are 18 penthouses, one for each of you. You will be randomly assigned a character backstory and a motive to kill. No one is allowed to know your motive, but you must use your backstory to craft a character. I would also like to welcome Doc to the Life Series" The goat, cyborg, creeper hybrid waves. "I have heard about this and have asked Grian to join for this season. I wanted to join Secret Life, but I was busy on Hermitcraft, so I couldn't join you all"
"Now this time, there is no 3-heart rule" Loud complaints can be heard as Grian raises his hand for silence. "This time is just one. One life. One chance to win. There is also the removed heal feature like Secret Life. You lose a heart, but it'll be reset at the end of each session. But there are some added stuff too. The building behind me is known as " The Tower" and it'll open during the final hour of each week where everyone can join. If you do not kill during the fourth and fifth week, you will die instead. There are not only custom outfits for everyone, but as well as some new weapons" The avian pulls out a pistol as murmers of excitement begin to grow. "Yes. We've added guns to this season as it'll fit with the theme. Now, everyone scatter, find a penthouse and await your backstory. Good luck!" Everyone runs off in different directions, looking out for a building with a penthouse they can claim.
I hope you like this so far! The original idea behind this is by @pokewatcher20 over on @bad-traffic-smp-ideas and I was instantly hooked. The next few will be on the different allies and backstories. Sessions are weeks in this fic.
The characters in this are:
Scott
Skizz
Cleo
Etho
Martyn
Pearl
Ren
Gem
Jimmy
Tango
Impulse
Doc
Mumbo
Grian
Scar
Bdubs
Joel
Lizzie
(I forgot BigB on accident. Sorry!)
I will be uploading this fanfic onto Ao3, but it may take a while and it's gonna be on here as well. Will add the link to Ao3 when it's ready!
There's a new High Life tag!!!!! I'll be using it for uploads {added 17th Jan 2024}
The ao3 version!!!!
Thank you @animalgobrrr for doing this for me! Will be still putting updates on here so my friend can add them to ao3
#trafficblr#scott smajor#grian#jimmy solidarity#tango tek#mr goodtimes#you are not immune to the goodtimes#goodtimeswithscar#life series#ldshadowlady#smallishbeans#ethoslab#mumbo jumbo#docm77#impulsesv#tango of the tek variety#tangotek#pearlescentmoon#geminitay#martyn inthelittlewood#zombiecleo#skizzleman#High Life
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🤠🐓5+1 Hangster Fic Recs🐓🤠
(* also includes any other similar x + 1 fics)
Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕
Ao3 Authors: 47cityordinances, Alecjbi, AnadoraBlack, Anonymous, Attolians, B_blh, Boobooblue, Bottledyarn, Charlie_mou, Coconutcordiale, Conny_the_destroyer, Contech00, Cryinginthebronco, Dalearden, Davidbyrne, Dracculaura, Drh0rrible, Earthangel_44, Elwenyere, Emseebeans, FabuMazX, Gentlehours, Ginnydear, Glitterfayy, Greatea, Hangmanbradshaw, Icezansky, Indybob, K0ralik, Lawrussoauto, Lemqnie, Levivi, Liadan14, Lovelybattle, LoveMadeThemDoIt, Luciferinasundaysuit, MadeItUp, Magdarko, MayWilder, Miraculousmultifan, Nickies_Nonsense, Nightfuryy, Nighttimedawn, Nightwrite24, Perishablealex, ProtectingH_ngm_n, Pocketsizedsatan, Quietconversation, Ravens_Words, ReformedTsundere, Resacon1990, Rorschachs, SaintClaire, Susiecarter, Tearsricochets, Tellxmebby, Umbrella_enthusiast, Violation_of_faith_and_devotion, WaffleToaster, Xo_em.
(5+1 Icemav)
The mandatory 5+1 fic by AnadoraBlack {M}
5 times Rooster thinks there might be something between him and Hangman; and 1 time he knows for sure.
(+ Podfic by ReformedTsunderePodfics)
playing for keeps by ginnydear {_}
“He’s uh,” he starts, trying to pull himself together. Phoenix has wandered over now, mouth open as she looks at the scene in front of her. “He’s cuddly, when he’s sleepy.”
“Javy,” Hangman hisses, though it’s not nearly as biting as it could be. “To the grave, dude.”
watching from afar by quietconversation {T}
“I am good, Rooster. I am very good.” The cocky grin on his face doesn’t faze the aforementioned Lieutenant, who nods at Bob and rolls his eyes at Hangman, who continues after a pause. “In fact, I am too good to be true.”
“Shut up, Seresin. No one wants to listen to your whining on a Friday night. It’s just stressing everyone out more.”
— The 5 times everyone thought Hangman and Rooster might have something going on, and the one time their suspicions were confirmed
ring the alarm by levivi {T}
Hangman’s grinning at Rooster with a toothpick between his teeth, white against the tan of his skin. Rooster leans back against the counter, tilting his head back with a barely-there smirk.
“Not always,” he says lowly. Phoenix frowns.
“Well, you know me,” Hangman purrs. “I like making you work for it.”
Or four times no one realized hangman and rooster were dating and one time they did
feels like the first time by ginnydear {E}
“Like what you see?” Jake teases, ignoring the part of his brain that needs Bradley to say yes. Desperately wants to know that Bradley is as into this as he is. When Bradley looks up at him, hand sliding up Jake's chest, across his collarbone to cup his jaw, Jake nearly whines. working title - four firsts for bradley and one first for jake.
more than just a friend by dracculaura {T}
Everyone knows that Bradley and Jake are dating.
Except a very oblivious Maverick.
i'm just gonna call you mine by ginnydear {T}
“Oh, you better watch it there, sugar, because I feel an unnecessary roughness penalty in my future,” Rooster replies, watching as Hangman’s dimples appear. He salutes Rooster.
“You’re on, sweetcheeks.”
it starts with a sarcastic sweetcheeks. (or, five moments from within canon and one from shortly thereafter)
T-shirt by violation_of_faith_and_devotion {E}
He inadvertently takes a breath and before he realizes what’s happened, Jake is already away, making his way towards the bar.
He’d like to blame it on the alcohol, but he’d need to lie to himself.
* Or, three times when Rooster smelled Hangman. And kinda liked it.
Mav? by nightfuryy {_}
Five times Bradley got to be part of a loving family and one time he got to show someone else what that was like.
softest hands to hold you by ginnydear {M}
“You aren’t the first person to think I’m pathetic and weak, something to be used and not loved.”
or - jake's had some bad past boyfriends.
I Hate The Way I Sleep Better With You by FabuMazX {T}
5 Times Rooster and Hangman help each other through nightmares +1 time they help somebody else.
An Obligatory 5+1 Fic by tellxmebby {T}
Or, 5 times Jake Seresin "mother henned" (nagged) Bradley Bradshaw, and one time Bradley mother hens him back.
Too Good To Be True by drh0rrible {M}
5 Times Someone Finds Out Rooster and Hangman are Together + 1 Time Jake Needs Reminding
5 Times Hangman Took Care of His Team + 1 Time Someone Took Care Of Him by dalearden {T}
The Daggers and the rest of the Team stay together for the long leave post mission. That includes Hangman although he is still treated a bit as an outsider. They get into all kind of crazy shit and Rooster starts to notice things. That Jake is the one who starts cleaning after drunk Payback threw up all over the bathroom and knows exactly what cleaning products will do the trick. That when Fritz is arrested for disturbance, he knows how to talk to the cops to get him released. That he can patch Fanboy like a professional medic after the guy got into a fight. That he can cook a meal from nothing, mend clothes and knows everything about meds. Turns out Jake had to take care for his family as the only responsible person since he was 5 years old. First his alcoholic parents and then his dying grandmother. Jake won’t let anyone in, but he will take care of them as much as he can. Rooster wants to change it.
big brother duties by ginnydear {G}
“But what I’m trying to say,” Bradley says after a moment, handing Jake a clip and touching Amelia’s shoulder, “is that… well, you have me now.”
“Ew, are you offering to be my brother?”
five times jake helps bradley with amelia and the one time amelia helps bradley with jake.
all of these games we play (i can't even keep 'em all straight) by tearsricochets {T}
He knows, theoretically, Jake wants some kind of reaction out of him. He’d seen it in the look he’d given Bradley right before accepting the man's invitation, but he also knows that he’s sick of the one having to make all the big emotional moves.
He opens his mouth to tell Tasha as much, but stops when he sees a girl at the bar looking at him. She’s a curvy blonde, someone who looks like she was in a sorority in college. Her hair is perfectly curled, and her lips are a dark red color. She’s giving him a very long once-over, and when she meets his eyes again she smiles coyly.
(Look, you don’t need to tell him it’s a bad plan, okay? He knows.)
(Natasha does not care.)
Because she knows the second she follows his eyeline what he’s going to do, and immediately opens her mouth to protest. “Do not do what I think you are about to Bradshaw.” He turns to look at her, the new gaze burning his skin. “Why not? He can play games but I can’t? Please, Tasha, give me a reason not to and I’ll leave it alone. Jesus, tell me what we are doing, at this point that would be just as great.”
OR: the one in which they play many games, and then the one time they don’t.
my picture in your pocket by ginnydear {G}
Staring back at him from Rooster's phone is Hangman, eyes bugged out of his head and tongue sticking out. It’s obviously a selfie and Bob thinks it’s gotta be one Hangman took himself, based on the angle. It looks like Hangman isn’t wearing a shirt either, which only adds to Bob’s confusion.
five times someone picked up roosters phone and saw a selfie of hangman.
everyone knows something I don't by greatea {E}
Rooster interrupts him, and damn it, that smirk is back from the bar. "Ah, so you paid attention to who was in the same year as me, Hangman? My my my darlin', I didn't know I left that much of an impression on you."
With a scowl, Jake just shrugs his shoulders. "Gotta pay attention to the competition, right? Not that you turned out to be much competition after all, a bit too slow for me."
"Ah, well, that might be true for my flying, but it certainly doesn't carry over into other aspects of my life, darlin' ," Rooster says, smirk almost painted onto his face, looking him up and down.
- or the 5+1 fic where Jake doesn't realize Bradley is flirting with him, and the one time he does.
on the other side by bottledyarn {T}
only just getting started
Five times the dagger squad thought they knew what the deal was with hangman and rooster + the one time they got answers
wanting
Six times Jake Seresin assumes Bradley Bradshaw is something he can want but can't have, and how he learns the truth.
--
Jake Seresin is very good at a few things. Flying, obviously. Pissing people off. Wanting things he can't have.
But he's never been very good at dealing with Bradley Bradshaw.
During the mission, Jake is just trying his best to be better.
Oblivious by umbrella_enthusiast {T}
Pete “Maverick” Mitchell and Tom “Iceman” Kazansky have been around Bradley Bradshaw for long enough that they know how he interacts with his friends. Hell, they practically raised the kid.
But the one thing that Mav and Ice can’t wrap their heads around is Hangman.
I Want You All To Myself by perishablealex {E}
Five times Jake plays with Bradley's come. And the one time Bradley tries something new.
I hate (the way i don't hate) you by susiecarter {T}
Five times Rooster and Hangman hated each other over something stupid, plus the time it turned out that wasn't ever what it had really been about.
(+ Podfic by Silverkat1620)
you got me wishing we're more than friends by nighttimedawn {T}
or five times that Jake gets back with his ex, and the one time that he doesn't
This is Getting Ridiculous by lovelybattle {E}
The first time it happened Rooster had tugged Hangman into a closet, kissing him until they were both breathless and red in the face. This was new, they hadn’t done this before, but they didn’t talk about it. Just another step in this long dance they’ve been doing.
Or: 5 times Rooster and Hangman get caught and 1 time they don't.
you know that i'm falling and i don't know what to say by alecjbi, attolians, boobooblue, Earthangel_44, ginnydear, miraculousmultifan, perishablealex, ReformedTsundere, xo_em {E}
Jake, I…” He stops, his eyebrows pinched as he shakes his head.
Jake’s eyes snap open, his gaze caressing Bradley’s face. “Yeah?” Smoothing out the tension between Bradley’s eyebrows, Jake cups his face in his hands. “I’m listening.”
Averting his eyes, Bradley whispers, “I’m really glad it was you.”
or - the eight times they almost say I love you during sex, and the one time they do.
I come from where the rivers meet the sea by luciferinasundaysuit {T}
Phoenix pinches the bridge of her nose. “One night. One night without whatever all this is. My kingdom for one night.”
“There’s no all this!” Rooster protests. Like a liar.
Hangman takes his arm back, slides off his chair and goes back to the dart board. Rooster tries not to feel cold.
“Of course not, Rooster,” Hangman says, just short of condescendingly. “I could never bring a yankee home, and I respect you too much to hit it and quit it.”
Or 5 times Rooster didn’t tell Hangman where he was from + 1 time he did
why don't you speak by lawrussoauto {T}
He wants to ask Rooster what’s wrong, why he looks so tired. Why he’s barely said a word to anyone since he got here an hour and a half ago. Does he even want to be here?
- Or, 5 times Jake inwardly worries and 1 time he voices them.
no stressing, just obsessing (with sealing the deal) by Resacon1990 {T}
“Too much love drives a man insane!”
“Tell me about it,” Jake mutters under his breath, and Penny raises an eyebrow where she’s wiping the bar in front of him.
Or, five times Jake tries to tell Bradley he's in love with him, and the one time he actually does.
(is it too soon to do this yet?) 'cause i know that it's delicate by cryinginthebronco {E}
5 times Bradley helps Jake fall asleep + 1 time he gets to wake him up
5 Times Bradley Calls Jake Sweetheart + 1 Time Jake Returns the Endearment by dalearden {M}
But there’s one thing above all Jake has really latched onto, that makes him literally swoon inside in such a way that he momentarily becomes a stranger to himself. It’s just a word and would mean nothing coming from anyone else but there’s something about the way Bradley says it, how it makes Jake feel to hear it coming from the older pilot.
It makes Jake wish he could show his feelings so easily in return, makes him hate himself a little bit that he can’t.
The Colour Of An Avocado by SaintClaire {M}
Four times Jake got jealous and one time Bradley did.
---
The thing about Tim is that he’s probably a decent guy.
Jake would know this if he was willing to spend more than twenty seconds talking to him, but alas, he’s not.
He’s Bradley’s ex, and that’s three strikes out and a fourth for good measure, as far as Jake’s concerned.
been you all along by Ravens_Words {T}
Somehow, in a truly horrifying twist of fate, Bradley's mortal enemy became his daughter's favorite person.
Or
Five times Jake was his daughter's favorite person, and the one time he was Bradley's too.
I'm a star and I'm burnin' through you by glitterfayy {M}
Jake isn’t stupid, if he cares to profess, he knows it's more than a crush. It’s been several years now and he hasn’t been able to shake Rooster off his tail since they first met.
Or Five times they thought it might be love, and one time they knew.
Happy Birthday, dear Jake by Conny_the_destroyer {T}
Five times Jake sings Happy Birthday to someone and one time others sing for him.
holding patterns by gentlehours {M}
Always thinking, a mocking voice that sounds eerily like Hangman tells him, never doing. Always waiting, for that perfect moment that never comes. That always was his problem, and it’s never easier to see than when he’s with Hangman.
— Five times Bradley waits for a moment that never comes, and one time he takes a chance.
ignition by charlie_mou {_}
In a reality where Mav had an adult, honest conversation with his kid instead of going behind his back, said kid didn’t run off and cut contact -- no, he decided to figure out if there was something he wanted to do aside from being a naval aviator.
And thus, Fire Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw has been working at San Diego Fire Department for close to fourteen years when the Dagger Squad is assembled for a special detachment.
Or, 5 times Jake crossed paths with Fire Lieutenant Bradshaw and 1 time he met Maverick's son
You make me think of olive oil (4+1) by b_blh {G}
The 4 times Jake used olive oil and the 1 time Bradley and Jake used it together.
a window breaks down a long dark street by MayWilder {M}
“I’m gonna go inside,” Jake murmurs against his lips, despite how they’re flush against one another and he isn’t pulling away. “I am.”
He bites at Bradley’s lower lip, prompting the other man to tighten his grip on his hips. “Remind me again why?”
“Cause we’re taking it slow and proper,” Jake reminds him. He lets his hands fall down the slope of Bradley’s shoulders and squeezes his biceps. “Dates. Holding hands. Maybe even a date where we hold hands.”
Bradley chuckles and ducks his face down into Jake’s neck. “Right. Romance.”
***
alternatively titled: Four Times Jake Romances Bradley + 1 Time Bradley Romances Him Back
If No One Else Sees (We Can Pretend It Isn't Real) by Contech00 {T}
In the lead up, and aftermath, of the mission Rooster and Hangman find comfort in one another as they steal private moments of each other's company. Rooster tries to work through his personal struggles as seen through Hangman's point of view.
or, 5 times where Bradley and Jake open up to one another thinking they're alone. And one time they're not.
5 Times Rooster Fell Asleep On His Teammates And 1 Time He Did It To Maverick by Nickies_Nonsense {G}
When Bradley was kid he was all over people. You couldn’t get the boy to leave you alone if he wanted to be near you whether it was holding Mav’s hand as they walked, being picked up, or nuzzling into his shoulder in the evenings he simply insisted on being held.
- Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw has a habit of cuddling up to people when he’s sleepy which the daggers discover during training before the suicide mission.
Extra Credit by ReformedTsundere {T}
"I'm going to kill him," Bradley seethes, stomping into the teacher's lounge and briskly cutting across the room to get to the fridge where his lunch is waiting.
Or 5 times Jake and Bradley's teaching forces them together, and 1 time there's no force at all
get it right (for you, honey) by liadan14 {T}
“Wait, there was an actual proposal?” Javy asks. “Wow, I didn’t think…”
Bradley glares at him. “Seriously? Did you people imagine we just tripped and fell through the wrong door in city hall?”
“I thought maybe you went to Vegas,” Fritz pipes up.
“I’m still not convinced it’s not a tax scam,” Bob adds.
“Now that you bring it up,” Jake says thoughtfully, “he did mention the tax breaks when he proposed.”
Or, X times someone else observed Jake and Bradley as a married couple and tried to understand how exactly that happened.
I always fall (a little short in front of you) by rorschachs {E}
Rooster loses quite a few bets. He arguably wins even more.
Flying Conditions by elwenyere
Holding Pattern {E}
The thing about having a dead father everybody liked is that everybody’s got a bigger piece of him than Bradley does.
----- 5 times Bradley wasn't ready + 1 time he was
Punching Out {M}
Jake’s always been sharp and soft, but not in the right configuration.
----- Or, 5 times Jake can't always get what he wants + 1 time he gets what he needs
When the Time Comes by elwenyere {T}
Bradley remembers it the way his fingers remember a chord: by ear, like he’s an echo of someone else’s sound.
----- Or, 5 times someone held Bradley + 1 time he held someone else
august sipped away (like a bottle of wine) by k0ralik {E}
Jake isn’t sure when he and Bradley started seeing eye to eye.
Maybe it was when Rooster was chosen to fly the mission instead of him and he had to step down, following orders, forced to give up competitiveness. Maybe it was the countless games of poker and many, many bottles of beer later.
or: 5 times Jake and Bradley go for it in not-so-private places + 1 time they actually find a bed
Some Unspoken Thing by indybob {M}
With paths that have crossed for the better part of a decade, Jake and Bradley have a history unlike any other. A history that sees their relationship develop from best friends, to bitter rivals, to eventual lovers.
The five times that Jake felt there was some unspoken thing between himself and Bradley, and the one time he decided to do something about it.
here is that rainbow by magdarko {M}
Five times Jake did something Bradley didn't expect and one time Bradley returned the favor.
5 times Rooster lost a bet to Hangman + 1 time they both won. by Pocketsizedsatan {_}
5 times Rooster lost a bet to Hangman + 1 time they both won. Fraternity AU
In the mood for love by WaffleToaster {_}
A light-hearted 5+1'ish story of the many interrupted attempts of two knuckleheads written from their friends' prespectives.
Also known as: 5 times Jake and Bradley try to get it on, emphasis on try here, and one time they might have had a chance.
Let Me Not to the Marriage of True Minds by Contech00 {T}
He has to say something. “Did you know that after the USS Forestal was decommissioned it was turned into razorblades?” He says squeezing his eyes shut.
“What?” Bradley says in a serious tone, an eyebrow quirked in confusion.
-or-
Jake accidentally woos Bradley with poetry.
so it's your birthday by 47cityordinances {T}
It takes two months for Bradley’s resolve to break. Two months without Jake. Two months of no calls, no texts, no emails. Two months of knowing Jake is out there somewhere, yet so far out of reach.
His absence is everywhere, suffocating.
---
5 birthdays with distance between bradley and jake and 1 birthday together
miles to go before I sleep by lemqnie {E}
Five cold winters between Jake and Bradley and one warm Christmas.
or Jake and Bradley's relationship through the years.
caught me by surprise by emseebeans {M}
Bradley and Jake hook-up after the mission. It's a one-time, casual thing. Until it's not.
(or, five times Jake says Bradley isn’t his boyfriend, and the one time he realizes that might not be true.)
you next to me by coconutcordiale {T}
“We can play for it,” Bradley offers, twisting to reach across Jake and pull a deck of cards he’s tucked into the rack supporting Jake’s mattress. “Loser has to trek across the ship and sleep with Zing.”
“He’s not my type,” Jake says, mischief glinting in his eyes when he peers up at Bradley. “Too skinny.”
+ aka three times there was only one bed and one time there were too many
let's make christmas merry, baby by davidbyrne {T}
Bradley stares at it for so long that the man in front of the counter clears his throat in annoyance.
He blinks back to himself, looking up at the man dressed in business casual and sporting an annoyed look. “Sorry, you want me to wrap this?”
“Yes,” the man says, exasperated. “That’s why I’m at the gift-wrapping station.”
Or 4 times jake brings something ridiculous for bradley to wrap and one time he brings himself
love thorns all over this rose by hangmanbradshaw {_}
Bradley's friends watch him lose himself, find himself, and then find something even better.
Or
Bradley doesn’t really do dating, until he does. Aka Bradley pre-IWTBY, and a little during, according to Reuben, Callie, and Jonathan.
Oh, but it just may be a lunatic you're looking for by nightwrite24 {G}
Five times Bradley and Jake encountered each other under decidedly unusual circumstances, and the one time one of them decided to finally do something about it.
what's it take to get your number? what's it take to bring you home? (you can take me hot to go) by davidbyrne {M}
Dr. Bradshaw scans Jake’s file, no doubt seeing the long list of previous visits, ranging from a fishing hook in his hand (an unfortunate accident) to when he collapsed from dehydration (he had an undiagnosed bout of bronchitis). He glances back at Jake, keeping his face tilted down. The whole thing shows Jake just how long the doctor’s eyelashes are.
“Yes, I can see you have more tenure here than I do. Rest assured, Mr. Seresin. You’re in good hands.” Or 5 times jake asks his hot er doc out and 1 time he says yes
sit down next to me by MadeItUp {M}
Five times Jake and Bradley are forced to sit together for an event, plus one where they choose to do so.
“I assume you were saving this for someone special.” The man flashes a smile designed to dazzle, an aviator’s arrogance amplified by the self-confidence of someone who’s never been anything less than the best looking guy in the room. As he sits, Bradley eyes dip down to check his patches: Hangman.
What You Need to Know About Cupids by icezansky {G}
According to the Fates, one “Jake Seresin” and one “Bradley Bradshaw” are destined to love one another. They just need a little intervention in the form of a Cupid to seal the bond.
can't you see (all I really want to be) by Anonymous {E}
Five times Rooster and Hangman got each other off, plus the time Hangman finally admitted that wasn't all it was.
Five Times a Dagger Learns About Hangman & Rooster (And One Time Maverick Does) by LoveMadeThemDoIt {G}
honey I'm still free (take a chance on me) by davidbyrne {E}
“This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
“Training?”
“Sure, but I meant more this. Us.”
Or 5 times jake decides it's too difficult and one time he wants to try
Requesting clearance (to fall in love) by ProtectingH_ngm_n {G}
The first time was an accident. The second time was a coincidence. The third time was luck and the fourth time was planned. A fic with Captain Bradley Bradshaw and First Officer Jake Seresin
#5+1 Hangster Recs List#hangster#sereshaw#hangaroo#bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈
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professional courtesy
pairing: Miles Edgeworth/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)
*reader is racially ambiguous, pronouns are unspecified, and physical descriptors aren't used*
summary:
Miles Edgeworth always has the most recent evidence and an updated autopsy report when he prosecutes a case. His secret? You: a talented LAPD detective with no honest concept of “time off work.”
word count: 3.5k | ao3 version
warnings: mentions of sleep deprivation, fatigue
This snippet is focused on Miles Edgeworth/Reader and the dynamic can be perceived as romantic or platonic. The reader is a detective employed at the LAPD. The reader is also racially ambiguous and gender is unspecified.
Since this fic is, well, fiction, some parts may be unrealistic. Keep that in mind before you read. (For example, this takes place in a rather unrealistic universe in which Miles Edgeworth isn’t in love with Phoenix Wright. lol.)
You’ve been working in the Criminal Affairs Department at the Los Angeles Police Department for a few years now. You started out as a wide-eyed rookie, but within a few weeks, you quickly learned that detective work isn’t the perfect, harmless job you thought it was. You still love your position, of course, but you’ve investigated rather gruesome cases in your time at the LAPD. Now, you find yourself accustomed to the scent of formaldehyde and the sight of blood splattered across skin.
Through your position at the LAPD as an investigator, you’ve met your fair share of interesting characters—namely, defense attorneys and prosecutors. Unfortunately, interaction with legal professionals comes hand-in-hand with your investigations. You can’t remember the last time you had the pleasure of performing an independent investigation. You’re almost always hindered by a prosecutor breathing down your neck or a defense attorney frantically pressing you for evidence you don’t have. The constant presence of overbearing lawyers is just something you’ve grown used to.
They aren’t all so bad, you think to yourself. Miles Edgeworth, Klavier Gavin, Simon Blackquill, and Nahyuta Sadmadhi are all rather unique individuals, but they care about justice and aren’t falling prey to the dark age of the law. You enjoy working with all of them, even when Klavier can’t shut up about his latest concert or Simon’s hawk constantly uses your head as a perch. Truthfully, Miles Edgeworth is the most tolerable of the group—but you’d never admit that aloud.
You’re in your office one night, reviewing some paperwork and thinking about the recent case you were assigned, when you hear a knock on the door. You give the person permission to enter and the door falls open, revealing Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth himself. He’s wearing his typical prosecutor garb—his burgundy-maroon suit and cravat. Glasses are perched on his nose and he pushes them up a little. “Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth,” you remark, blinking at him. “Good to see you.”
“And you.” The prosecutor responds, his arms crossed over his chest as his gaze flits about your office. You suddenly feel strangely self-conscious, despite the knowledge that your office is very sparsely decorated. There’s an award mounted on the wall from last year and a small photo of you and your friends on your desk, but that’s about the extent of your decorations.
“Are you here for the updated autopsy report?” You ask, deciding to cut to the chase. From what you know of the prosecutor, he doesn’t quite enjoy small talk. Indeed, Edgeworth looks relieved at the thought of being spared from casual conversation; he then nods at your question. You sigh and open your desk drawer, procuring the newest autopsy report. You hold it out to him and he takes it with a murmured thanks. The prosecutor’s eyes are locked on the paper as he takes in the new information. You watch him for a few seconds, before taking the opportunity to rub your eyes roughly. You’re rather tired, you have to admit. You should’ve gone home hours ago.
“Detective.” You flinch, opening your eyes to find Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth staring at you with a blank expression. You’re briefly hit with an intense wave of embarrassment at the thought of zoning out in front of the Chief Prosecutor himself. “The commissioner didn’t send you home,” the prosecutor remarks. You think his statement is meant to be a question, despite the fact that his tone doesn’t fluctuate from his typical flat affect.
“Well, he did,” you grimace, remembering his demands for you to return home immediately. He’d be furious with you right now. In fact, the commissioner pulled you aside a few weeks ago to inquire about your “workaholic tendencies.” You meant to take him seriously and even assured him that you’d start to leave work on time instead of staying late. But here you are—sitting in your office late at night with your findings from your after-hours investigation.
“Yet, you’re still here.” Edgeworth remarks with an intent gaze. Somehow, his frown only seems to deepen.
“Yes, well, I… felt like something was missing,” you decide to admit. The prosecutor is trustworthy. Besides, you’re sure he has much better things to do than report you to the commissioner. The notion then reminds you of Dick Gumshoe—particularly, a conversation you had with him the other day about his much-to-be-desired diet of instant noodles. You shake your head in a half-hearted attempt to clear your thoughts. “Here, look at these.” You pull papers from the file on your desk and extend them to him. Edgeworth’s gaze follows your gesture and his eyebrows furrow.
“The suspect’s fingerprints on the corpse,” Edgeworth remarks blankly. “Yes.” His eyebrows furrow. The prosecutor is evidently wondering why you’re pointing that out, considering the evidence is extremely self-explanatory. You take a deep breath.
“Look at the edge here,” you suggest, pointing to the very edge of the photo in question. It’s just barely visible and you watch as Edgeworth squints at the photograph for a long moment. For a second, it looks as if he’s not seeing it. You’re close to pointing the area out again when his eyes widen in realization.
“Powder,” Edgeworth realizes aloud. He crosses his arms over his chest and falls back into his unusually straight posture. His fingers tap against the crook of his arm rhythmically, in what you guess to be a restless gesture. “The prints were transplanted.”
“I believe so.” You nod.
The prosecutor frowns and looks askance. He seems to deliberate for a moment before turning his attention back to you. “Can you do something for me?”
“Sure…?” You respond, thrown off by the ambiguity of the statement. The prosecutor explains the task he’d like you to perform and you begin to understand. Acting on his orders shouldn’t take too long, hopefully. However, you are in a time crunch—what with the trial being scheduled for tomorrow morning. Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth leaves you with a murmured word of gratitude and a quick farewell. You stare at your closed office door for a moment, wondering if you dreamt up that interaction. The handwritten note sitting on your desk—created mere moments ago by Edgeworth—is proof that the prosecutor’s request was all too real. You don’t waste any time after that, immediately walking out of the police department and getting into your car. The Chief Prosecutor’s request isn’t too difficult—you simply need to revisit the crime scene and make sure everything is in order. Then you’ll return home, eat something, take a quick shower, and go to sleep. Everything will be fine. You won’t overwork yourself. You certainly won’t stay at the crime scene late into the night, until the point when you bear witness to the sun rising in the morning sky.
These promises fade into obscurity the moment you reach the crime scene. Your investigative mind turns on and all you can think about are fingerprints, footprints, and murder weapons. You meticulously review each piece of evidence for forensic data, in addition to reviewing the entire scene in your head several times. Your efforts are far from a waste of time, as you manage to tie up some loose ends and even determine that the murder weapon carries multiple sets of prints. Your knees are aching as you bend down towards the ground and survey anything of consequence. Time is entirely inconsequential. All you know is that the flashlight you had needed when you arrived is no longer useful, as hints of the sunrise begin to illuminate the area in a hazy dawn glow.
When your morning alarm goes off as you’re standing at the edge of the crime scene, you’re able to recognize that you may have gotten carried away. Just maybe. You sigh and trudge back to the car, before driving to the courthouse. When you arrive, you’re able to take a quick nap in the car and eat a protein bar you find in the console. Unfortunately, your nap is more than quick—it doesn’t last more than three minutes before you hear a knock on your window. It’s your least favorite defense attorney, Duff Endyu.
“Well, hello, Detective!” Duff remarks as you roll down your window, his cheery smile immediately ruining any of the rest you acquired from your brief rest. “Catching up on some Z’s, are we?” His grin seems to have a mocking edge.
“Yes,” you sigh, unwilling to entertain his attempts at provocation. “Are the doors open?” You look over to the courthouse entrance.
“I believe they are, sport,” he responds, patting a hand on the area where the unopened window rests and pacing towards the building. You take a deep breath and pinch the bride of your nose. It takes you a few moments to cross the parking lot and make it to the doors. Once you do, you find that the waiting room is blissfully empty. You sigh in relief and take a seat on the armchair, crossing a leg at the knee and pinching the bridge of your nose. You want nothing more than to fall asleep, but you know that would be rather unprofessional. Besides, you have a job to do.
You spend your time reviewing the information you gathered throughout your investigation, before preparing your statements and testimony as the detective on the case. You’re typically the first person called to the stand, so that you can explain the case to the judge and shed light on the evidence.
“Detective.” You flinch and look up, only to find Miles Edgeworth staring down at you. You resist the strange urge to get up from your seat and instead greet him. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” you respond, pretending that you don’t need to blink the traces of exhaustion from your eyes.
“Did you have a chance to do what I asked?”
“Yes, I did,” You’re about to explain when the bailiff interrupts and asks you to go into the courtroom. You send an apologetic smile to the prosecutor, before slipping into the empty courtroom. The judge is the only person in the room, and he seems to be frowning at something on the surface of his bench. When he notices your entrance, he motions for you to come closer.
You’re familiar with this judge and have worked with him several times before. The thought reassures you, as you know you won’t have to sugarcoat your words or pretend to be someone you’re not on the stand. The two of you have formed a surface-level understanding of one another, which makes your job that much easier.
The judge asks you a few questions about your investigation and you answer them to the best of your ability. Eventually, he seems satisfied, because he nods and dismisses you. You never get the chance to speak with Edgeworth and brief him on your findings before the trial, but you know he’ll learn more once you take the stand.
The judge begins the trial with the standard procedure, questioning both the defense and the prosecution before Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth makes his case for the conviction of the defendant. Not for the first time, you find yourself impressed by how succinct and persuasive the man’s argument is. Endme, the attorney for the defendant, seems a bit intimidated. You think you would be too, if you were going up against the chief prosecutor himself.
The judge then calls you to the stand. You explain the crime and describe the crime scene in detail, before Endme, the defense attorney, cross examines you. His cross-examination isn’t super thorough, and you suspect it’s because your claims are all backed up with at least one piece—if not multiple pieces—of evidence. Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth seems to have quite the easy time with dismantling the defense’s argument. However, since you never got the chance to brief him before the trial, you’re forced to step in and correct an assumption when you hear it.
“Actually,” you break in, wincing at how everyone’s gazes lock onto you. You take a deep breath. You can do this. “Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth is right, but… an investigation earlier today revealed that the murder weapon actually contained the prints of the witness, in addition to the defendant.”
Edgeworth’s eyebrows steadily climb up his forehead. You want to feel guilty, but you know you didn’t leave him out of the loop on purpose. In fact, you were about to relay your findings to him when you were swiftly interrupted. Instead, you allow yourself a brief moment of pride. You caused that disbelieving expression on the chief prosecutor’s face. You found that evidence…!
The trial, understandably, is suitably affected by that revelation. You’re soon dismissed from the stand, as Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth calls the witness to the stand. You get the feeling he’s going to absolutely grill them—to see if they play a more active role in this case.
Truthfully, you want to leave the courthouse and go to sleep, but you know you should stay to see how the trial plays out. Thankfully, Edgeworth uses the forensic evidence you found to bolster his argument and, after only about an hour, the courtroom doors swing open and the chief prosecutor appears. His eyes narrow in on you immediately and there’s a frown on his face. You feel any good karma you may have accrued earlier completely dissipate.
“Detective,” Edgeworth says with a sigh. This can’t be good, you think to yourself. “I appreciate your efforts, and the fact that you did what I asked you to do.” He pauses. But…? “However, I do not recall telling you to avoid sleep entirely.” His eyes meet yours and you realize he must’ve noticed your fatigue earlier or the dark circles that currently reside under your own eyes.
“I know,” you acquiesce. The prosecutor nods knowingly, and you suddenly feel the need to defend yourself. “Still. I had a gut feeling there was something missing—and I was right.” Edgeworth sighs loudly. You raise your eyebrows at him knowingly, inviting him to argue with you. Fortunately for you, there’s not much of an outlet for him to argue—since your choice to continue investigating procured decisive evidence for the trial. The prosecutor evidently comes to that realization, because he crosses his arms over his chest and levels you with a furious gaze that spells you silent.
“Come on, Detective,” he remarks. “Unless you’d like the budget cut that Detective Gumshoe is so fond of.” You sigh deeply and follow after the prosecutor. This is the first time he’s threatened to reduce your salary. You certainly hope it will be the last—you’d rather not rewrite your budget for the coming month.
You follow after Edgeworth, who has yet to offer an explanation for why you’re supposed to follow him. The prosecutor paces out of the courtroom and walks through the lines of cars in the parking lot until he reaches a red sports car. Your eyebrows climb up your forehead as you see him unlock it.
“This is your car?” You hear yourself ask.
“You seem surprised,” Edgeworth notes with a tinge of amusement. He opens the door for you, allowing you to enter, before closing it behind you. The prosecutor then walks around the car and gets into the driver’s seat. Edgeworth looks at you expectantly, evidently waiting for elaboration.
“Sorry, you just didn’t seem the type,” you say. You quickly regret uttering the statement aloud after seeing the prosecutor raise an eyebrow; thankfully, he lets the comment slide. Instead, you get into the car and awkwardly stare down at your hands. You feel intensely out of place in this car, sitting next to the Chief Prosecutor himself. Edgeworth doesn’t seem to notice your internal panic, instead beginning to pull out of the courthouse parking lot and drive down the street. “Where are we going?” You eventually find the courage to ask.
“My office,” Edgeworth responds. You feel your heart stall in your chest. He isn’t going to fire you, is he? You’re not sure if he has that power… but you wouldn’t be surprised if he did possess that kind of administrative authority. Your fear must show on your face, because the prosecutor huffs in amusement before turning to look at you for a brief moment. “Lighten up, Detective.” Contrary to your expectations, you aren’t given any more explanation than that. Instead, you’re left to sit silently as Edgeworth
He’s taking you to his office. Oh no. You’re really going to get fired, aren’t you? Your heart races in your chest and you feel your hands twitching at your sides. Edgeworth leads the way to the Prosecutor’s Building, walking through the underground garage before reaching the door and opening it for you. You’ve been to the building before, but you’ve never been to the underground garage—which leaves you feeling a little turned around. You suspect there’s an elevator that will lead to Edgeworth’s office. However, the chief prosecutor walks past it and instead ascends the staircase next to it. You shrug and follow after him. One flight of stairs won’t be too bad.
One flight of stairs passes in the blink of an eye. However, Edgeworth doesn’t exit as you expect—instead he continues climbing up the stairs. Are you going to be taking the stairs all the way up to his office? From what you remember, quite a few of the offices are on the higher floors. You decide to keep quiet and follow his lead.
If only you had known that Edgeworth’s office number was on the twelfth floor . By the time you climb up the last set of stairs and reach the twelfth floor, you want to collapse on the ground and never get up. Edgeworth, on the other hand, isn’t even winded. You manage to catch your breath on the short walk from the staircase to his office, but you know your legs will be sore tomorrow.
You’ve never been in the Chief Prosecutor’s office before. It has more life than you thought it might, with a burgundy couch off to the left side, an ornate wooden desk in the center of the room, and rows of files lining the walls on the right. There’s a small figurine of the Steel Samurai and an award that you recognize to be the Prosecutor Trophy. The space looks like a good mix of professionalism and nonchalance that you think you’d like to emulate in your own office.
Despite your expectations, Edgeworth still doesn't give you an explanation for why you’re here. Instead, he settles into the chair at his desk and opens his computer. He’s quiet as he types on his computer. After a few moments of standing awkwardly, you decide to move and sit on the couch.
You don’t know how long you wait there, anticipating a remark from the chief prosecutor. Unfortunately, now that you’re left here with nothing to do, you feel your energy slipping away. Your exhaustion is beginning to catch up to you. You didn’t get much sleep ( read: any sleep) last night, thanks to your impromptu investigation. Despite your fatigue threatening to knock you out, you know can’t fall asleep in front of the Chief Prosecutor. You have to stay awake.
Surely, there’s something you could be doing right now. Your eyes are stinging from exhaustion and your blinks feel twice as long as normal. You rub your eyes roughly and pay a glance at Edgeworth, who is scrawling something down on a piece of paper.. Just what are you supposed to be doing here? The prosecutor hasn’t spoken since you left the car. Edgeworth isn’t shy about assigning you work to do, so why is he suddenly so silent?
Despite all these recognitions, and the intimate knowledge that it will not look good if you fall asleep, your exhaustion wins out. One moment, you’re staring blankly ahead at the wall of files; the next, your eyes are slipping shut and you’re falling asleep.
Your sleep is remarkably undisturbed, despite being in the company of another person. You occasionally hear the scrawling sound of writing or the pattering sounds of typing, but otherwise, the office is blissfully silent. Your head rests on your hand and you exhale slowly, feeling the day’s stressors slowly slip away.
You don’t intend to sleep for long. But, when you wake up, you find that it’s dark outside. There’s an added warmth that you didn’t have before. Upon further investigation, you find that there’s a familiar burgundy jacket draped over you. Is this… Edgeworth’s jacket? Your eyes widen as the characteristic burgundy color.
Your phone pings, drawing you out of your thoughts. You reach towards it and power it on, only to find that it’s nearly 6 p.m. The trial ended hours ago! You look around for Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth, but he’s nowhere in sight. All you see is the familiar wall of files, the chessboard in the corner of the room, and a mug of tea with a note next to it.
Wait. A mug of tea with a note? You frown and look down at the coffee table, finding a mug of warm tea with steam rising out of it and a handwritten note. The note reads:
Visiting the department. Expect a more strictly enforced schedule in the future.
-M.
PS: Stay as long as you need.
You smile to yourself.
“Duff Endyu” → “defend you.” lol.
hehehehehehheeeee… I just want to fall asleep in Edgeworth's office and for Edgeworth to look down at me and be filled with an inexplicable burst of fondness. is that really too much to ask?>??
Did “a more strictly enforced schedule” make sense? I was trying to find a characteristic way for Miles to say that your overtime would be prevented (aka that you’ll have to “clock out” and actually leave, instead of staying for hours after).
I just realized Miles’s initials are M.E.. Lollll.
anyway, thanks for reading! <333
TAGLIST: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall
#miles edgeworth#Miles Edgeworth x reader#edgeworth x reader#gn reader#male reader#transmasc reader#Miles Edgeworth x male reader#gay as hell#edgeworth x gn reader#ace attorney#ace attorney x reader#ace attorney fanfic
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IMPORTANT !! THERE'S YET ANOTHER PERSON ON WATTPAD THAT HAS BEEN PLAGIARIZING WRITERS ON TUMBLR/AO3. THEIR USERNAME IS @/tokyo-senpai (here is a link to their wattpad page)
UPDATE !! they have now deleted and taken down the stolen fics as well as the whole book from their account. it's unclear whether they simply unpublished and moved the fics to their drafts or if they actually deleted it — but point is, it's off their account now. please do not send them hate, we should be better than that.
tumblr user @aceopmari has contacted them on discord and spoken with them, asking them to take the fics down and for an apology. you can see all the details of the conversation here. they tried to dodge blame and make themselves appear innocent, but anyway, it is no longer an issue as the stolen works have been taken down.
thank you to everyone that supported us writers. please reblog this version of this post, and while you may continue reporting the account if you wish, please do not send them hate.
( ↓ this is all prior to the above update)
below (under the cut) are screenshots of the plagiarist's wattpad page and screenshots of their book, in which they have posted 159 oneshots/smut posts that all seem to be stolen from writers on tumblr and ao3.
please report the account, and to any writers that have had their content stolen, you could send them a DM and ask to take it down. if many people call them out, it's more likely that they will delete everything they've stolen.
they also stole my baji fic, as you can see here. thank you anon for letting me know of this.
++ there is another call out post for this same account by tumblr user @poohbea here with more compiled evidence that those posts are all stolen ones. please read and reblog that also.
#くimportant ろ#PLEASE REBLOG!!#AND PLEASE LET WRITERS KNOW IF THEIR CONTENT HAS BEEN STOLEN#naruto smut#naruto x reader#toji x reader#toji smut#nanami smut#jjk smut#jjk x reader#tagging for exposure please excuse me :(
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Halloween, Huh? Day 7 Reveals
Save A Horse, Ride a Princess - Rated E - 8603 words
“I have to say, this is all quite literal, don’t you think?”
Alex wouldn’t know literal right now if it hit him in the head. “Huh?”
Henry points at Alex: “Pillow Princess,” and then to himself: “Cowboy. Ready to ride and all that.”
Alex nods dumbly. “Right.”
-
Or, Alex and Henry dress up as the ultimate couples costume for Halloween — themselves — and they both feel some kind of way about it
.🎃🎃🎃.
Baby, it's Halloween and we can be anything - Rated E - 6394 words
Alex is furious. More furious than he should be about the whole thing, but still. Plans were made. Money was spent. Costumes were purchased—not even rented—purchased!
.🎃🎃🎃.
With magic soakin' my spine, can you read my mind? - Rated T - 4629 words
What happened after Alex, June, and Nora played their little HRH Prince Henry Fact Sheet drinking game? Well, in this version of events, Alex finds a mysterious bottle containing what appears to be a magic spell for "Clarity of Mind." As dumb as it seems, he does the ritual and reads the incantation and moves on, flying to London for damage control. But when he shakes Henry's hand, suddenly things change, and Alex realizes that maybe magic is real after all.
.🎃🎃🎃.
Don't need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo - Rated E - 3706 words
Henry takes Alex on a trip to visit...a couple of old feathered friends.
(fic with podfic also included)
.🎃🎃🎃.
we were born to be suburban legends - Rated E - 3303 words
Oh yay, it is either a reunion of Nora’s past, or the thirst has gone long enough she has started to hallucinate.
.🎃🎃🎃.
you knew what it was (he is in love) - Rated M - 3253 words
“I’ll text you later.”
“You’d better,” Henry murmurs, pulling him in from the waist. One hand comes up to pull back the hat off his head, and Henry leans down to kiss him, and the entire thing feels painfully romantic and Alex fucking loves it.
----
Alex and Henry halloween/trick-or-treating meetcute. Henry has a daughter, Alex is babysitting his niece, and the girls know each other.
.🎃🎃🎃.
It's autumn in New York; it's good to live it again - Rated T - 1649 words
It's the first day of fall in New York, and Alex comes home from class with a special surprise for Henry.
.🎃🎃🎃.
A little note for all of our wonderful creators: if your work was revealed by the Palace today, please be sure to update your publication date to today’s date so it shows up fresh in the AO3 feed.
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Headcanons for Vash getting a nice, long soak in a hot bath and a nice, thorough massage? Idk what types of physical therapy would be good for all his scars and missing arm (and whatever other damage beneath the skin we can't quite see), but hopefully a massage and a hot soak in a big tub would help? And a nice nap in a soft bed.
you need to relax, vash.
wc; 770
cw; mentions of scars
note; so i managed to find some time to start watching some of the og trigun anime and lemme tell y'all that this version of vash is so damn funny yet he's also my precious bbg still. i'll also be getting requests out in a more consistent manner now that i've graduated and have my summer free!!
on another note, i have made an ao3 where i have plans for two big works, a vash x reader prequel that leads into a wolfwood x reader. character.ai has given me so much material it's insane. i'll keep everyone here updated as i put those out, profile linked below!! <3
masterlist | cross-posted to ao3
vash would always put everyone else's needs and well-being before his own
it was 100% part of his sweetheart charm but it did raise some worry after it became a consistent thing
and while you and the others tried to push the importance of his well-being onto him, he was stubborn and would always wave you guys off
this continued for quite some time after you joined the group until, one day, you put your foot down
"you need to relax, vash." you left no room for argument, no indication that getting out of this was going to be easy.
vash tried his best to - as politely as he could - decline your persisting order but soon found himself being half-dragged, half-carried towards the bathroom of his hotel room
he stammered your name as you pushed him into the bathroom and followed, locking the door behind you. you started the tub and let the water run until it was warm enough before plugging the drain.
he jumped when you turned on him, his back against the far wall. with your hands on your hips, you raised an eyebrow at him.
"what're you waiting for? clothes, off." you took a step towards him when he hesitated and he hurried in doing it himself, only stopping when he was in his underwear. "vash, lovebug, i've seen you naked countless times."
"this is different," he whined, watching as you picked up his clothes off the floor. "is this really necessary?"
you sat in front of the door, folding his clothes and setting them beside you. you nodded as you worked on his jacket, eyeing the bullet holes near the hem. after another moment, you turned off the faucet and returned to your spot, eyes on vash.
"get in the tub, vash. don't make me get up and put you in it myself," you warned, crossing your arms over your chest. he sighed and shed his boxers, kicking them in your direction before climbing into the tub. "thank you."
he slid down in the tub as far as he could, a content sigh coming from his lips as he slung his arms over the back of the tub. you scooted towards the edge of the tub, earning a smile from your lover as you sat there with him.
"did you want to join me?" he asked, gesturing to the tub but you shook your head. "no? are you sure, mayfly?"
"tempting, but this is time for you to relax," you said firmly, reaching over him to grab the shampoo. you put it beside you and start cupping water to dump onto his hair to wet it. "lean back, lovebug."
he does as you ask and you take some shampoo in your hands, lathering it up before running your fingers through his hair. vash hummed as your fingers gently scratched against his scalp as you worked the shampoo through all of his hair. you instructed him to wash it out as you unplugged the drain.
you handed him a towel and unlocked the door, carrying his clothes out and putting them on the dresser before sitting on the bed. vash followed, eyeing you as you pat the bed next to you.
"what?" vash questioned but he did as you asked, allowing you to guide him into laying on his stomach. "what's going on?"
you straddled his lower back, hands resting on his shoulders as you began to knead at the skin. vash shuddered under your touch and you smiled to yourself. your hands worked up and down his back, taking your time on the more tender and scarred areas of him. you admired every inch of vash, murmuring your adoration and making sure he knew you thought he was beautiful.
you hummed in response as vash quietly said your name and he turned his head to the side so he could look at you.
"thank you for pushing me to relax," he murmured, his voice getting heavy with sleep. "i really needed this."
"you did," you replied, slowly getting off of him to bring him some cozy clothes. "you need to take care of yourself, too, okay?"
vash mumbled some sort of response as you brought him his clothes. as he got dressed you changed into cozy clothes yourself, closing the window blinds and climbing into bed with your love. he curled up against you instantly as you pulled the covers over the two of you, his head resting on your chest and his arms around your waist.
"good night, lovebug," you whispered, your fingers running through his hair as his breathing evened out.
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“I want to,” Law sighed. Rosinante barely heard it over the thundering of his heart. Those fingertips continued up the hinge of his jaw, tracing the arch of his cheekbone, down to rest under his chin, almost seeming to draw him even closer. Rosinante felt himself sway forward, just a hint. “If you’ll let me…?”
“Law…” he whispered; a warning, a plea – he didn’t know. He felt overcome, overwhelmed-
-----
Happy late Valentine's day!
I actually posted this yesterday on my Twitter, so apologies on the delay on this end!
I got commissioned by Alilman_writes on ao3 for their CoraLaw fic, Saudade, a rated M, Adult Law/Cora, fix it fic, featuring ghosts, surprise child acquisition, and getting therapy through single parenting. 👌
This is one of the first commissions I've done in a hot minute! That said, this is also the first commission I've done since my accident and my eye Injury! So all things considered, I'm supremely proud of how this turned out!
We decided on both a full version and a cropped version for the fic itself, since the intimacy was off the charts when zoomed in so close like this!
Enjoy all the details too, though, I had loads of fun working on this! Slowly but surely, I'm working through my current queue and I just wanted to say thank you for all your wonderful support and well wishes!
I'll probably make a little post updating everyone on the finer details of what's going on with my injury right after this one, but even so, thank you all, I appreciate and adore all of you! 💕
#donquixote rosinante#corazon#trafalgar law#ドンキホーテロシナンテ#トラファルガーロー#コラロー#coralaw#cora x law#one piece#fanart#digital art#illustration#procreate#commission#saudade#Alilman_writes#fanfic art
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