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yukidragon · 1 year

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Sunny Day Jack - Moonlight

Hey, hey, remember the Bad End AU? Remember how I teased about making a part 2?

Inspiration struck, and now the bad ending can continue. Here is a peek of the unpolished rough draft. Eventually I’ll polish both parts of these and put them into my Sunshine in Another World collection.

Credit goes to @okamiliqueur for the comic that started it all.

Warning: there is mentions of major character death, gore, body horror, trauma, and grief in this short story. Please read only if you’re in the headspace for such dark subject matter. Also, general reminder, this fandom is for Adults Only. I hope you enjoy the continuation of this sad what if scenario.

Don’t worry, this is an AU and not canon for the main story of Sunshine in Hell. Sunshine in Hell is going to have a happy ending, I promise. This AU is just an exploration of how things could wind up going so very, very wrong for Jack and Alice.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore

Edit - Now you can read the polished version of the first part of the Bad End AU over here on AO3.

...

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Joseph couldn’t entirely blame Ian and Shaun for what they did. He had gone too far as Jack, done too many things that he shouldn’t for Alice’s sake.

Joseph paused before shaking his head harshly. No, he shouldn’t lie to himself. He did it all for his own sake, for his own feelings of love, fear, desperation, and all the messed up shit that was twisted up inside his head as Jack.

Jack wasn’t as clean as he deluded himself into believing; he was a monster.

Joseph couldn’t really blame Ian and Shaun for sending the monster known as Jack to hell.

That didn’t mean he could ever forgive them for it.

It wasn’t as though Joseph was entirely free of Jack. He remembered everything, including the thought process he had when he lost himself so deeply into the character that he was practically a caricature of a person. He wanted to be ‘perfect,’ and in his fucked up mind, that’s what Jack was. Everyone loved Sunny Day Jack after all, not him, not Joseph, no matter what last name he used.

Only Alice was different.

Joseph knew it from the start. He felt it deep down in his soul where he kept the piece of her soul that she gave to him to save him from hell. How could he not fall in love with someone who gave up so much for him when everyone else gave up on him so easily?

He wanted so badly to be perfect for her as Jack, to be everything she could ever want so that she would never regret saving him and keep him with her forever. Now, in retrospect, he could see how ridiculous the idea was. The ‘perfect’ mask of Sunny Day Jack showed cracks even on the first day.

Yet, despite getting glimpses of the unclean filth that was Joseph behind his mask, Alice didn’t shy away. She didn’t try to peel it off him either. He could still remember the panic he felt the day she asked if he knew the name Joseph Haberdae, the evasive answers he gave to redirect the topic so he wouldn’t lie to her. He couldn’t lie to her.

She let him. She realized what he was doing and let him pretend he got away with it. He could still remember her words to him after he fooled himself into thinking otherwise.

“I don’t mind calling you by whatever name you want. Even if you used a different name before or change it later… as long as it’s the name that feels most like you, then that’s what I’ll call you.”

At the time, it made him panic. Alice saw through him, through the facade of Jack and saw the ugly side of him that he tried so desperately to hide. He remembered how badly he denied it - he wasn’t Joseph anymore, he refused to be.

Alice let him change the topic then too. Joseph barely remembered what clumsy attempt he made to talk about anything else, but he remembered the gentle smile she gave him, the softness of her lips as she kissed him to quiet his rambling. He devoured her lips like a man starved and made love to her immediately after, needing to hear her call the name Jack so desperately, needing to hear her say that she loved him.

Joseph missed that, the way Alice would shyly say she loved him, and he could feel how she meant every word. She was so afraid of getting hurt again, but so brave for trusting him, for loving him. He wanted so badly to never betray that trust.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

The morning sun trickled in through the curtains, muted from the cloudy day, but the light caught the strands of Alice’s fair colored hair, making it shine with a faintly golden hue. She was curled up in their bed, eyes peacefully closed. She wasn’t as warm as she should be, he could never forget her beautiful warmth that filled him up and completely chased away the cold, never mistake the feel of her for anyone else. So much of her warmth was gone now, not completely, but enough that Joseph could tell that she wasn’t all there even though he held her close to his chest.

It was time to get up. Joseph was tempted to stay in bed with her a little while longer, pretend things were normal a little while longer. Jack was the morning person, not him. He hated dragging himself out of bed in the morning for school or work, but obligation forced him. He had to take care of them both now.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Joseph said, the words coming out in a cheerful cadence out of habit as he gently nudged Alice to help rouse her awake.

Though Joseph braced himself, he could never quite get used to what he saw when Alice opened her eyes. Her left eye was still the same beautiful blue of the sky just at the break of dawn, only a bit cloudier than before, but what replaced her right eye was something else entirely.

It was some sort of mess of plastic, darker chunks with shinier strands that reminded him of VHS tape ribbon. It was both artificial yet somehow organic as it blended into the flesh of her eye socket.

Joseph hated to look at it, this thing that had infected his sunshine, but he refused to run away from his mistakes again. He managed a smile thanks to so many years of practice doing so no matter how he felt. “Hey there.”

“Good morning,” Alice said. Her voice wasn’t the same anymore, not really. Joseph recognized it immediately - he would never forget the sound of her voice - but there was something off about it in a way that he couldn’t quite describe, something that reminded him uncomfortably of the static hell that he had been trapped in for 40 years.

Despite this, Joseph sought out her lips again, and Alice returned the loving morning kiss he planted there. She didn’t move her mouth against his quite the same anymore, a little less lively than before, but he could still feel her love.

Alice’s love was the one thing Joseph felt all the time. It thrummed in his chest. With every beat of his heart - her heart - he felt it resonate through every inch of him. Her love was warm and beautiful and everything he could have ever asked for except that this heart she gave him should have been inside her.

Despite how much Joseph didn’t want to see it, he looked down anyway. Her pajama shirt covered it, but he could see the outline of the misshapen mass that filled the hole in her chest, a giant tumor of plastic wrongness that replaced the heart Alice gave him. It throbbed faintly when he watched closely enough, a twisted mockery of the heart that should have been there.

In a sick way, Joseph was grateful for whatever supernatural infection that cursed tape left in Alice. He still remembered the sight of her after the ritual pulled him out of hell and brought him back to life. He still had nightmares of seeing her sprawled on the floor, bleeding out from the hole in her chest where her heart should have been and her empty eye socket. He remembered the fear and pain he felt as he watched the light fade from her remaining eye, how desperately he called her name and begged her not to leave him alone. He would have given anything for a miracle in that moment, and perhaps whatever cruel god or devil trapped him in the tape for 40 years listened.

It was horrific watching that thing take shape. Something artificial, unnatural, plastic, fleshy, and not right grew like some sort of fungus or tumor, filling in the empty space with something entirely wrong.

It was the tape. Joseph knew it immediately. Whatever cruel magic changed a simple VHS tape into something entirely unnatural and cursed had mingled with the ritual that Alice cast, and these things that grew in her body were the results.

As horrific as the results were to look at, as awful as the implications were, Joseph hated that he also felt a little grateful for them as well. Because of the tape, he didn’t lose Alice that day. She was still alive… if he could call it that.

Then again, he wasn’t quite sure he was really alive when he had been Jack as well.

Joseph never wanted Alice to do something like this, not for him or anyone else. He never wanted her to hurt or for anything to diminish her beautiful light.

Yet, she performed such a ghastly ritual to save him. Joseph looked over all of her notes, both the carefully written instructions she made for herself and the overwrought emotional scrawls that bled her hurt and frustration over losing him. The words written in the margins of some of the pages made the heart she gave him ache.

“I miss you.”

“I’ll save you.”

“Jack.”

“This is my fault.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I love you.”

“Forever.”

Joseph could imagine Alice hunched over the papers and writing late into the night. He could practically see her cry over him in the small warped circles of paper and smeared ink that marked where her tears fell. He could feel just how much she loved him in these notes, how desperate she was to bring him back despite all the mistakes he made as Jack.

The notes and strange tomes Alice left behind didn’t mention anything about the tumor that had formed from the cursed VHS tape that was keeping her alive. Maybe the ritual didn’t account for the mixing in another type of dark magic and how it might affect the results.

“You must sacrifice the part of you that you hold most dear.”

It was a cryptic line, one that gave no real hint as to the real price to be paid to perform the ritual to resurrect the dead, but the results spoke for themselves.

Alice loved him. Her love for him was what she held most dear, which was why the cost was her heart.

It made a cruel sort of sense to Joseph. What he didn’t understand was why it took one of her eyes too and put it in him. He could look in mirrors now - people could see him now - but he had a hard time looking at himself when he could see one of his sunshine’s beautiful pale blue eyes staring back at him. Every time he saw it, he felt judged, even though he knew that Alice never judged him.

No, it was just Joseph judging himself for his own filthy soul and what it cost the most pure person who ever had the misfortune to love him.

Despite feeling this way, Joseph still couldn’t let go of Alice or her love. She sacrificed so much for him, he couldn’t, wouldn’t throw that way. For as guilty as he felt, he treasured what she gave him with the same greedy ferocity as a dragon guarding his hoard.

He was going to fix this. He was going to bring back his sunshine’s light.

Joseph helped Alice out of bed and encouraged her to get dressed with him. She was still present, able to talk, but not really initiating conversation. She responded when he spoke first, needing his prompting to guide her through the motions of acting human.

The only things Alice would do unprompted would be to hold onto Joseph or say the words he once longed so desperately to hear.

“I love you, Jack.”

Joseph managed a smile, though it was strained at the edges despite all his experience pretending to be happy even at the hardest of times. He should correct her, he knew. He wasn’t Jack anymore, but he could never bring himself to. She wasn’t all there. She understood simple instructions, allowed him to guide her through the day to eat and care for herself even when he had to work. She probably would call him Joseph if he asked her to.

But it was the fact that they were the only words that Alice would say of her own accord, not as a response to his voice, that stopped Joseph. It was like they were a recording, the last message she had for him before she died and came back as something no longer human.

That was what Alice seemed to be now - an echo of her former self. Instead of glowing like the sun, she was the faint hints of its glorious light reflected off the moon, still beautiful in its own way, but not enough to banish the darkness that overtook the world.

Joseph pressed a soft kiss to Alice’s forehead. “I love you too, Alice… so much.”

“I’ll love you forever,” Alice responded.

“Forever,” Joseph repeated softly. “I’ll never leave you, my love. I promise.”

Joseph closed the distance between them, cutting off whatever response she would give him next with a gentle kiss. Before, when he was Jack, he never would have tired of hearing Alice tell him how much she loved him, but even though he knew the words were real, they felt so hollow now, and he could only handle so much before the guilt tore him up more than her love healed him.

Jack was no more. Gone were the bright primary colored clothing, the blue from his dark hair, and the makeup that hid the tattoos he regretted getting in his youth. He was Joseph now, not quite human, but far more of one than Jack ever was.

“I’m going to fix this,” Joseph murmured against her lips. “I promise…” He moved to press another kiss against her forehead. “I promise, I’ll make everything okay again.”

Alice closed her eyes and exhaled, the sound close to a pleasured sigh that let Joseph know that, in spite of all the changes she went through and how unnatural she seemed now, a part of her was still there, still with him despite it all. “I trust you.”

Joseph believed her, and he smiled more easily at that. He gave her another kiss, trailing down to press more on her cheeks as he took a moment to appreciate her serene face without the sight of the unnatural mass behind her right eyelid.

Joseph wasn’t clean. He would no longer lie to himself that he was. He wouldn’t pretend to be someone perfect anymore. What happened to Alice was all his fault. He did some awful things, even while he deluded himself that he was someone “clean.” He felt fully awake now and aware of who he was, what he was.

He was a sinner - that was why he went to hell for 40 years.

Alice didn’t deserve to live through that hell. Joseph would save her, just like she saved him when she gave him a piece of her soul and then all of her heart.

No matter what it took, Joseph wouldn’t rest until they could both be happy and whole together. Whatever price he had to pay, he would pay it to get rid of the curse of the tape once and for all.

Joseph wasn’t clean. He wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t Jack. He wasn’t going to lie to himself about what he truly was anymore.

He was a monster, but he was the monster who Alice loved with all her heart and soul, the monster she gave up everything to save.

Joseph refused to let all her sacrifices be in vain.

They would be happy again, Joseph would make sure of it.

Even if he had to burn the entire cold and uncaring world down around them to do it.

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Bad End AU #My Writing #Sunshine in Another Hell

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shurisneakers · 3 years

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harmless (i)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, nonsense writing

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: listen i just needed something to keep my mind busy and a perry the platypus!bucky and dr. doofenshmirtz!reader was the only thing i could think of. dont have any high expectations from this series, you will be sorely disappointed.

If you have any ideas for this series, lemme know!! it’d be cute to write!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Series Masterlist

Bucky Barnes, for all intents and purposes, is edgy.

His SHIELD salary is definitely enough to afford him a simple beanie, gloves even if he’s that eager. His long hair, though a spectacle in itself, isn’t as good at keeping away the cold as he claims it to be.

It’s a personal choice, a fashion statement even, to be roaming the streets in a long flimsy t-shirt that does nothing to accentuate his broad shoulders, and tactical pants that look a little too comfortable.

It’s cold. He says he likes it, to appease his blond haired best friend who insisted that he wear a cardigan at least. He won’t like it in a while, but he would never admit it.

The bike ride to the other side of town for a minor mission takes longer than he expected. The wind rushing by gets his adrenaline racing.

Official missions are long and gruelling, and oftentimes not fun. But it gives him a purpose.

It’s easy, therefore, to find him brooding when he’s not on one.

No one wants their room to be on the receiving end of Bucky’s stress-cleaning sessions. His baking is more appreciated.

So when there’s news of a small time villain creating havoc again, it made sense that he volunteered to go sort it out. No one else wanted the job. They’d all been at it before.

SHIELD didn’t seem particularly bothered either.

“It’s not that serious, Barnes.”

“I’m going.”

“Just stop her from doing whatever dumb plan she has today. She seems to have a new one every week.”

“Can I-”

“This is not an assassination mission.”

“Fine. Can I-”

“No.”

“Fine.”

He didn’t know what to expect. He had an idea of how they should be. Smaller villains tended to be more aggressive, vicious to prove their point. They were here to stay.

He wears his regular gear. Enough knives to make a butcher look away in shame, and guns including, but not limited to, his biceps.

He finally pulls the bike to a stop a few metres away, leaving it out of reach in case things got too out of hand. He didn’t want to have to walk back to the Tower, and his friends, as much as they loved him, would never go out of their way to pick him up. Little shits.

The address is a dingy, plain concrete house near an old construction site. It was flat and felt more like an afterthought than an actual building. It looked more like an abandoned Walmart than an actual villain lair.

The only entrance is the door in the front. He counts to three, lifting his leg to kick it down.

It falls down ungracefully, loud and creaky like it was bound to the doorframe by rust.

The only light source inside is a green light. All the way at the other end on an elevated platform is a desk and a chair facing away from him. He can’t see much other than that.

Someone’s laughter comes back loud and booming. He raises his gun, feet apart in a defensive stance.

“I’ve been expecti-” the voice pauses mid-sentence- “Did you just kick down my door?”

He looks behind him to where the wooden piece is on the floor. He certainly did.

He can finally see you as you stand up, green light illuminating your face. You reach over to the side, pressing a few switches.

He squints when all the lights turn on, pulling the both of you from darkness.

“Dude!” you cry out, face twisting into what only could be described as a mix of horror and disdain. “What’d you do that for?”

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t lower his gun either.

“You’re an Avenger, just fuckin’ pick the lock or something. This is expensive!”

He only watches as you whine, looking beyond him at your now demolished entrance. You take a few steps closer, jumping down from the elevated platform.

“Insurance isn’t going to cover this.” You drag your palm across your fist before extending it towards him. “Pay up.”

He wasn’t sure if he heard you right.

“What?” he finally asked, voice gruff.

“All you superheroes go around, destroying walls and cars in the name of world peace like you own the damn thing. Not today, bitch boy. Pay up.”

He doesn’t have his wallet with him. He didn’t expect to need it.

“I’m supposed to be stopping you.”

“You can do that once you pay for my door.”

You sound resolute, unshaken. A little annoyed. There’s what appears to be a gun in your hand, although it’s unlike any weapon he’s seen before.

“What’s your plan?” Bucky looks at your hand. Your stare follows his. You lift the thing up and he tenses.

“I was going to freeze some jerk but now my plan is to get you cancelled on Twitter.”

“Why?” his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Local superhero destroys property of tax paying citizen for no good reason.”

“I mean-” he shakes his head, discarding what you’re saying, “-why were you going to freeze someone?”

“Because I wanted to. But you’ve ruined the mood now, so that won’t happen.”

He blinks, lowering his weapon when he realises you weren’t making any attempt to move. “What’s your ulterior motive?”

“Nothing! I just wanted to mildly inconvenience that stupid fuck for being such a prick.”

He doesn’t know what to say.

“Is that the freeze ray?” Bucky asks instead, raising his gun when he realises there’s a very real chance he could end up like his best friend.

“You got a problem with it?” You hold it up carelessly.

“I can’t let you use that.”

“That’s all you’re going to do?” you huff, “Is this what you call an intervention? This is so boring.”

“Give me the freeze ray and no one has to get hurt.”

“No one was going to get hurt in the first place, genius. All this does is slow him down for 5 minutes so he misses the subway.”

There’s nothing technically that evil about what you’re doing. He doesn’t even know how you ended up on SHIELD’s radar. He gets why no one was particularly driven to take this seriously.

“And for fuck’s sake put that gun away. You’re not scaring me.”

He doesn’t oblige, even though something tugs at him, telling him that you’re speaking the truth.

“Here, take the stupid thing.” You don’t bother waiting for his response, bending over and sliding the gun towards his feet. “I’ll find another way to get back at that dickhead.”

It hits his boot with a small thud. He looks down. Its design is ridiculously comical, like you ripped it straight out of a kid’s TV show.

“Next time, bring some drama. Wear a cape or something.” You wave him off. “Now get out of my lair. I need to fix the door.”

“You don’t have another one of these lying around, do you?”

“Why, do your friends want one too?” The glare you give him is dangerous. He doesn’t react to it. “No, it’s limited edition. I don’t build the same thing twice.”

“You have others?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” A smile grows on your face, dropping as quickly as it arrives. “SHIELD will tell you if I do. Now leave.”

Bucky looks at the freeze ray in his hand. He supposes his job is done. He was told to stop you, but you didn’t seem to have any inclination to go on with your plan.

“You can ask them if you want, they know about me.” You roll your eyes. “Go ahead, call them.”

He doesn’t want to take a chance. As odd as the situation is, it’s still novel and he isn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

He tucks your weapon under his arm, pressing his phone to his ear.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” Maria’s voice is crisp as ever.

“I confiscated a... freeze ray.” He feels ridiculous even saying it. “But I’m going to bring her in to SHIELD headquarter-”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“But we can’t trust-”

“We’ve been keeping tabs on her for a while. She’s more or less harmless. You can take the rest of the night off, Sergeant.”

He cuts the call, not entirely at ease with the smug, expectant look on your face.

Still, he couldn’t disobey direct orders.

“I’m gonna... go.” He mentions towards the gaping hole in the wall.

“That would be ideal, yes.” You nod, crossing your arm over your chest.

“Okay.” He hesitates, but finally takes a step backwards. He peeks over his shoulder as he leaves, but finds you swivelled away from him again.

He steps back outside. The cold greets him again like an old friend. The weight of his weapons feels stupidly embarrassing now.

It’s a long drive back to the Tower. He keeps replaying the entire story in his mind. He’s unsure of whether he made the right call, but no one else really seemed to care.

He had seen weirder things. It came with the gig.

He leaves it at that.

“How’d it go?” Steve asks him when he walks into the living room.

“T’was fine,” he answers, toying with the stupid device he took from you. Maybe he would test it on Clint. He had been getting annoying lately. Breathing too much in Bucky’s general direction.

A part of him feels guilty for his carelessness towards your building. The other part is just bewildered.

That night he looks up the cost it takes to replace a door, making a mental note to draw some money from the ATM soon.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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folkloreguk · 4 years

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Mirror, Mirror (m)

A/N: I will never ever determine which body type the reader has, but I want every single one of you to know that it’s okay to feel empowered by the way your nude body looks, you’re absolutely beautiful and no size is a limit to how sexy you can be!!! You go queens!

words: ~5.4 (I’m sorry idk how to write short things anymore asdfgh)

genre: smut, optional bias (male) x reader (female), kinda fwb??, sexting

[H/N means “his name”]

There’s no feeling quite like the one of trying on your new clothes that just arrived in the mail and loving how they looked. Especially when said clothes were lingerie and you felt like you could conquer the world, even when you were just standing in front of your mirror at 7 pm after you had just stuffed your stomach with lasagna. And what better way to enjoy your happiness than to share it with your best friend?

In fact, you had two best friends. One, a girl who you could trust with your life, and two, a boy who knew all your deepest secrets. One of the central differences between the two was that you would never think about asking the former about his opinion on your new lingerie. You almost laughed at the mere thought while you went through your contacts list and selected your friend’s name and clicked ‘send’. “It’s new. How do I look?” you typed and sent quickly, before throwing your phone onto you bed. You were feeling sexy, but for the rest of the evening there was only one way you wanted to feel: Comfortable. So, you changed into your pajamas instead.

You wondered what she would say about your photo. Sending almost-nudes to your friend might have seemed odd, but for the two of you, it was a completely normal occurrence. You loved making sure you both felt beautiful and confident by complimenting each other. Happily, you walked back to your room after you had picked up some snacks in the kitchen. You grabbed your phone as you plopped down on your bed. While you stuffed a handful of crisps into your mouth, you unlocked your phone to check your messages. You had expected a text from your best girl friend, but instead you had received one from H/N, your best boy friend. Pure horror consumed you when you clicked on the chat and saw your almost-nude there. Sent at 7:01 pm. Seen at 7:05 pm. And worst of all, he had replied before you could have clarified the mistake.

H/N: Idk where this came from but…you’re hot

You: SORRY THIS WASN’T MEANT FOR YOU

H/N: Okay that kinda offends me…you have a bf and didn’t tell me???

You: NO OMG THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING HELP…it was for GF/N just for fun!!!

H/N: Ohhh…in that case…

You watched the dots signaling that he was still writing while you were still wondering how you would ever look at him without getting embarrassed from now on. It wasn’t like the two of you never talked about sex. In fact, he knew a lot about what you liked and didn’t like in the bedroom. Not because he had witnessed it. But thanks to multiple sleep overs with late-night conversations, when your lips became a little loose, you had discussed more sexual topics than you had ever dreamt of. Your cheeks were still feeling hot when you received another text.

H/N: How do I look?

Without missing a beat, he had attached a photo of him. Shirtless. His hair was disheveled, as if he had just removed his shirt, which he probably had. His sweatpants hung low on his hips as he stood in front of a mirror. He had tilted his head a little, showing off his jawline while he gazed at the camera with hooded eyes. You felt more embarrassed with every second you kept staring at his body.

H/N: OMG sorry this wasn’t for you!!!!!

Now you could only laugh at his stupid message.

You: Stop making fun of me!!

H/N: I’m trying to make you feel better!! Do I not get a compliment?

You: Thanks and you look great…can we please NEVER bring this up in the future?

H/N: Sure if that’s what you want…but if you ever need someone to rate your underwear again you know where to find me

~~~

And he really kept his promise. The next time you hung out, he was joking about everything but your little accident. You were thankful. But not mentioning the memory didn’t automatically delete it from your brain. And that’s where your newest problem begun.

You had never really looked at him in a sexual way before – sure, you thought he was handsome – but after than one damned picture he had sent you, you seemed to see him in a completely different light. There were no romantic feelings involved. But something felt profusely wrong about the way you thought about sex when he reached for a glass on the highest kitchen shelf and a small part of his abs was revealed. Or the way you instinctively licked your lips when you watched him stretch his neck in front of you. Or how your head spun when he lifted his shirt to wipe away his sweat when you worked out together.

One day was particularly bad. He had asked you to go to the public pool together, and being his best friend, of course you had said yes. As expected, he made you laugh until you were crying, scream when he playfully wrestled you in the water and giggle when he chased you on the water slide. And yet, you couldn’t help but notice his body. You almost felt bad, but then again, it wasn’t like you adored his character any less. You simply had some added adoration for another part of him. What were you supposed to do when he looked this good acting out a comic character while you played charades in the water? You might have been laughing on the outside, but you could barely tear your eyes off his neck and chest. Lately, you realized, the amount of thoughts you spent on wanting to kiss him had become problematic to you.

When you returned home at night, you couldn’t deny feeling sexually frustrated. Not wanting to give in to the inappropriate thoughts about your best friend, you turned on a tv show to distract yourself. But before you knew it, you were spending more time looking at your phone than at the tv screen. At first you browsed social media, but somehow you mustn’t have payed enough attention to your unconscious mind. You had miraculously landed on his Instagram, and when that didn’t entertain you anymore, you found yourself going back to your text messages with him. When you started at the shirtless picture he had sent you, you regretted not deleting it and forgetting about it right away. You wondered if he could ever feel the same way about you. You didn’t need any romantic feelings from him, in fact, you had no interest in a relationship at the moment. But you had never wanted someone this bad before and it was driving you crazy. So, before you could have stopped yourself, you were typing a message to him.

You: what r u doing??

H/N: do you miss me already?

H/N: ok do you really wanna know?

You: shut up you usually message me first!! and yes I do

H/N: I was about to jack off but you interrupted me

You almost choked on nothing when you read his message. Pretending you didn’t care, you replied quickly.

You: oh no am I killing the mood?

H/N: I didn’t say that

You: ????

H/N: don’t take this the wrong way but if you ever thought about sending me nudes again now would be the time

You: are u crazy?? are you actually asking me for nudes rn

H/N: it was worth a try ok let’s go back to being best friends who would never hook up

If you were freaking out about his previous messages, this one made you lose your mind completely. What was he saying? As confused as you were, you were also equally as sexually frustrated as he seemed to be. So, without a second thought, you chose the latest underwear picture you had taken and sent it to H/N.

You: that’s the most you’ll get…I won’t send complete nudes

You stared at the three dots indicating that he was writing a message. It felt like five minutes had passed when he finally replied.

H/N: fuck you’re so hot

And then he sent another shirtless picture. His bulge was prominent against his pants and the sight of it didn’t exactly help you with the pent-up frustration inside of you. But maybe it didn’t need to, because apparently, he felt the same way about you. You wanted to tell him about it. But there was no way you would be sexting your best friend at 11 pm, horny and frustrated. You knew you’d regret it and you’d only end up being embarrassed the next day. With no idea what to send him instead, you opted for simply waiting to see if he would say something. But he didn’t. Whilst waiting, you looked at his picture again. His jawline, his shoulders, his abs…and his boner straining against his sweatpants. For a moment you wondered if he was thinking about you too. Was he imagining it was you who was touching him when his hand wrapped around his cock? The more you let your thoughts run free, the worse your frustration became. And before you knew it, your hand was between your legs.

~~~

The next day you went about your duties, trying hard to pretend the previous day had been nothing but a fever dream. Luckily, you weren’t going to see him for another few days, so you could already practice an explanation of why sending nudes to each other had been a crazy idea. You worried about whether you could ever be the same around him after what had happened. But no matter how hard you tried to come up with a good reason why you should never even mention it again, you couldn’t. You were best friends who found each other hot. So what? Things could be worse. By nighttime, you had changed your mind. You were in the process of getting ready for sleeping, when your phone vibrated on your nightstand. His name lit up the screen.

H/N: you up?

You: not for long…whats up

H/N: I’m sorry for what I said yesterday about us not hooking up and so on…I was tipsy and you know my loose lips when I’m drunk

You: there’s nothing you need to apologize for

H/N: I was being weird and creepy…you’re my best friend

You: and you’re mine…that doesn’t stop me from finding you attractive

H/N: so I didn’t creep you out asking you for nudes?

You: I sent them to you, didn’t I… so what do u think

H/N: btw…thanks for that

You: likewise

…

H/N: so you’d do it again?

You: you’re not drunk now are you?

H/N: no just horny

You: dude I was about to go to sleep

If this had been a random guy you were occasionally talking to, you would have declined the request right away. You were tired and didn’t exactly feel too confident in your physical state. Nonetheless, you walked over to your mirror, pulled your shirt up until your bare breasts were almost exposed, and snapped a picture. Maybe it was the fact that you knew he’d return the favor and send you something back, or the immense trust you had in him. Posing in different ways, you took a few more pictures before you jumped back onto your bed. Impulsively, you chose the pictures you liked best and sent them to your best friend.

You: the things I do for you

H/N: fuck you look so good

You: have you always thought like that about me?

H/N: have I always found you hot?

You: yeah

H/N: I mean I never not found you hot

You: thanks I guess??

H/N: maybe we should have done this way earlier

You: agreed

Your eyes widened when he sent you a picture. He was still in his underwear, but his hand was wrapped around his visibly hard member outlined by the dark fabric. You had wanted to sleep, but somehow after looking at the photo for a little too long, you were wide awake. Leaning against the headboard of the bed, you let your head imagine whatever came to your mind. Never before had you noticed how much you liked his hands. Or maybe it was a temporary thing, now that you were already thinking inappropriate thoughts. You imagined it was his fingers softly touching the inside of your thigh, squeezing your breasts and playing with your nipples. The first time you moaned his name quietly, your cheeks heated up. But the more you thought of him, and the more you allowed yourself to wish it was him between your thighs, the more natural his name sounded between your whimpers.

And the two of you didn’t stop there. You might haven’t had time to hang out with him for another week or so, but you were texting each other more than ever before. Almost every night, you sent pictures to each other. With every passing day and every time you came thinking about his body on top of yours, you became more comfortable. Your messages to each other turned dirtier with every day and every picture was a little riskier than the previous one. By the way you cried out his name every night, your neighbors must have thought you had gotten a new boyfriend. One that was exceptionally good in bed, by the sounds of it.

Now it was exactly one week and a day after you had first sent him a picture of you. You had just stepped out of the shower and had a towel wrapped around your body as you entered your bedroom.

One could’ve thought you were going to be less horny, the more time you spent texting him about your inappropriate thoughts. It should have gotten less exciting at some point, shouldn’t it? To you, it was the complete opposite. He was all your thought about at night. So when you noticed your phone on your bed, you couldn’t stop your urge. You grabbed it, unlocked it and went straight to your messages with him.

You: please tell me you’re alone

H/N: yeah I am…do u need something?

Even though his text might have sounded innocent to anyone else, considering what you had done for each other all week long, you instantly got excited.

You: I have a present for you but since you’re not here I’ll unwrap it for you

H/N: I love presents

You had taken multiple photos. Starting from your with a towel covered body, you had slowly revealed more skin to him, until you had dropped the fabric completely. In the last picture you were covering your nipples with one hand across your chest, making sure your slightly parted lips were in the frame as well. After you had pressed ‘send’, you got comfortable on your bedsheets, not so patiently waiting for his reply. You hadn’t been able to get him off your mind while you had been showering. Now you didn’t even need to touch yourself to know how dripping wet you already were.

H/N: this is what you do to me

You were surprised when you saw his message. He had attached a video. Up to that day, it had only been photos you had sent to each other. So, when you clicked the ‘play’ button, you almost felt nervous. But the nervousness changed into something wholly different within the first two seconds of the video. His hand was down his pants, clearly stroking himself. He wasn’t speaking, but even the simple sound of his breathing behind the camera made your head spin.

H/N: do you want more?

You: I wish you were actually here

A blink of an eye after you had sent the message, instant regret hit you. Had you crossed a line? There had never been serious talk of the two of you actually hooking up, although you surely had thought about it more than you wanted to admit.

H/N: me too

You sighed in relief. So he wasn’t thinking you were going too far.

H/N: but its late and we’ve got work tomorrow

You barely had time to even think about a reply. The sole fact that he was seriously considering coming over or letting you drive to his place right now only justified the saying “People want what they can’t get”.

You: you’re right…this will have to do

…

H/N: let me know if you need more

But you already had your hand between your legs, his name on the brink of falling off your lips.

The next day, you were surprisingly focused on your work. Of course, you thought of him. He was your best friend, after all. Who would you have been if you didn’t wonder what he was up to or if you didn’t wish he was having a nice day? But that was about it. No dirty thoughts, no random sexual frustration at 2 in the afternoon. That was, until your phone vibrated in your pockets and you opened his message.

H/N: wanna hang out at my place tonight?

It was finally Friday. After over a week of not seeing him, you didn’t just want to meet him because you wanted him sexually. You missed his silly jokes and the way he made you feel careless after a stressful day. So, needless to say, you agreed.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen. Were you just going to hang out, the way friends do? Were you even going to mention your texts to each other? Your nerves were going mad when you drove to his place in the evening. It was a weird feeling to have about your best friend, you had to admit. But then again, you had every right to after the past week.

When he opened the door for you, you didn’t feel half as awkward as you thought you would. His hug felt the way it always did, and his room still was like a second home to you.

“Do you wanna order take out?” he asked.

“What’s in your fridge?” you returned the question.

“If I’d have to guess I’d say two eggs, half a bottle of soda and some yogurt,” he said. You laughed, already pulling up an app to order some food.

“Take out it is,” you grinned, falling onto your stomach on his bed. He followed your example. His shoulder was touching yours while you tried hard to focus on scrolling through the different offers of meals. But your look was drawn to his hands too close to yours and from one moment to the other, your mind was flooded with sinful pictures. You thought of him here, in this very bed, jerking off to the thought of you. Taking pictures of himself so you could do the same. Too many times you had imagined your face buried in his pillows, letting him hear the way you had been crying his name all week long, being able to make him cum with your own body and feeling his lips on your skin. Was he thinking the same things right now? Was he also struggling to focus on the simplest tasks?

“You’ve been looking at that chicken for a while now. Are you gonna order it or not?” he asked, making fun of you. How were you going to sit here, waiting and then calmly eating your dinner as if nothing was different? When you didn’t reply, he grabbed your hands along with your phone, making you look at him. You couldn’t instantly read his expression. All you knew is that in six years of friendship, he had never once looked at you this way. Inevitably, your eyes went to his lips and back to his eyes.

“Aren’t we going to mention this whole nudes-sending situation at all?” he suddenly asked, grinning cheekily. “What? You’re thinking about it too, aren’t you?”

You swallowed thickly. “Thinking about what, exactly?”

“How badly I wanted you last night,” he said. His face was close to yours. If you only bent forward slightly, you could kiss him.

“As in…now you don’t want me anymore?” you asked. He chuckled.

“Do you really think I didn’t want to push you against the closest wall and make out with you the second you stepped into my house today?” he asked.

“Then why didn’t you?” you asked, smirking and inching your lips closer to his. “Because I would have loved that.”

Instead of answering you, he finally leaned in to connect your lips. Within the first seconds you were moaning, and his tongue was on yours. You abandoned your phone on his sheets, swinging one leg over his waist to straddle him. He groaned into your mouth when you pushed your hips against his, your crotch rubbing over his bulge. Judging by the way you both reacted, neither of you had plans to take this slow.

His hands wandered over your sides and to your ass, squeezing it a little. You only moaned again, your fingers getting busy with his button up shirt. Teasingly, he bit your lip while he pushed your shirt higher, goosebumps rising on the skin he touched. His breathing became heavier when you let your hands roam his chest, pushing the fabric of his open shirt to the side eagerly. When you rolled your hips over his bulge again, you felt his erection more prominently than before, making you smile to yourself. For a moment you pulled away and pulled your shirt over your head.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” he confessed, watching as you discarded your bra onto the floor.

“Me too,” you agreed. He had sat up as well, and you helped him remove his shirt eagerly. “I’ve been wondering what your hands feel like.”

At your words, he pulled you back on top of him, playing with your breasts softly. You reacted, leaning over him, so he could take one of your nipples into his mouth. You whimpered at the way his tongue pressed against your sensitive skin. He gave the same attention to the other side, his breath leaving behind a cold sensation where he had kissed you.

Then, you bent to his level again, lips meeting in a needy kiss. You let his tongue lead yours for a while. Meanwhile, your hands sneaked to the waistband of his sweatpants. He hissed into your mouth as you grabbed his length through his pants, palming him through the fabric.

“Are you still into biting?” you asked, referring to a late-night talk you had had in the past. He smirked, nodding. Softly, at first, you nibbled on his neck, occasionally licking and kissing him. You got the exact reaction you had expected when you bit him, not to harshly, but probably leaving a purple mark nonetheless. He moaned and threw his head back, only exposing more of his neck to you. As time went on, you made your way down his chest and his stomach, settling between his legs. As much as you enjoyed hearing his moans and attempts to make you hurry, you were just as impatient, if not worse.

In one go, you pulled down his pants and underwear. He lifted his hips so you could fully take the clothing off his legs. Your mouth watered at the sight of him below you.

“If you had told me two weeks ago, I would be sucking your dick today, I would have called you a clown,” you chuckled.

“Look how the tables have turned,” he said, laughing with you. But his expression hardened the moment your hand wrapped around his length. You stroked him a few times, before lowering your head. Your tongue licked a stripe up the side of his shaft, until you opened your lips just enough to take his tip into your mouth. He cursed under his breath when you batted your eyelashes at him.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Why? Don’t you like it?” you asked, your hand continuously touching him.

“I like it maybe a little too much,” he said, only making you grin. His expression read pleasure, his brows furrowed and his lips hung slightly agape.

“There’s no such thing as liking something too much,” you said. Purposely, you watched his face when you wrapped your mouth around his cock, tongue pressing flat against the tip. Steadily, you bobbed your head, your hand covering the rest of his length. His thighs were flexing under your hands and his stomach was rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. He propped himself up on his forearms, watching you intently.

“This feels so much better when you do it,” he said, followed by a groan when his cock touched the back of your throat for a moment. Your hand was covered in your saliva by now, eyes tearing up a little bit, but you blinked the tears away quickly. Every time you pulled away a little, you made sure to swirl your tongue around the tip. Right away, you had noticed the way he hissed at that specific action. Again, he cursed under his breath and you made eye contact once more. His lips looked pink from where he had been biting them and his cheeks were slightly flushed a rosy color.

“Oh my god-,“ he moaned. “I’m so fucking close.”

You bobbed your head faster now. After another few seconds you pulled away, replacing your mouth with your hand. The muscles on his stomach were tense and he had his hands balled to tight fists next to his body. You enjoyed his moans for a while longer, before you could feel him twitch in your hands. When he reached his high, he let his body fall back, his arms no longer able to hold himself up to watch you. The evidence of his pleasure spilled onto his abs and you slowly let your hand come to a rest. One of his hands was swung over his forehead as he breathed heavily. When you looked up at him again, he still seemed exhausted but was grinning from ear to ear.

“Give me a second and I’ll return the favor,” he said, sitting up. At his words you realized once more how much you wanted him. Quickly, he cleaned himself up. As you rolled over to lay on your back next to his sitting figure, you yawned briskly, getting comfy in his sheets.

“You’re bored? If you want we can also just watch a movie, or if you feel like-,“ he said with raised eyebrows.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” You sarcastically laughed, rolling your eyes at him. “I’m open for whatever. Right after you’ve made me cum on this mattress.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, turning so he hovered over you. “I think we can arrange that.”

He went straight to kissing your stomach and hips, while he unzipped your pants for you. His kisses tickled you a little, but the sensation was quickly forgotten by how close his hand was to where you wanted him most. In order to let him take off your pants, you lifted your hips a little. When he had thrown your pants aside, he couldn’t hide the cocky grin on his face at the sight of your underwear.

“This looks familiar…where have I seen these before?” he asked innocently, placing his hand on the material. You flinched a little when his fingers hovered over your center. It was a fleeting touch, but the lack of attention had made you needier than you would have thought.

“Imagine I hadn’t accidentally sent you that first picture,” you said.

“I don’t even want to imagine that,” he said, his dramatic tone making you laugh a little. Abruptly, your laugh turned into a whimper when he pressed one of his fingers against your covered clit.

“I get that you’re in no rush anymore, but I’m not gonna lie, I am,” you said, wriggling against his hand. He chuckled again but seemed to obey your request. His hand slid into the hem of your underwear, fingers instantly coated in your juices. In response, you only hummed contently when he curled his digits against your clit. Within seconds you relaxed into his touch. You put one of your arms under your head and closed your eyes for a while. Now and then, he teased your core by almost pushing his fingers inside of you, but then not doing so. As frustrating as it was, you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. With skill, he rolled your clit between his digits. His free hand pulled on your underwear slightly, but not quite enough for it to come off. You whined at his teasing, looking into his eyes with a pleading gaze. He watched your expression for a while, probably enjoying the fact that he finally had the real you underneath him, instead of having to stare at some photos on his cellphone. So he finally obliged, making you feel empty when he pulled his hand out of your soaked panties, but simultaneously thankful.

“You have no idea how many times I imagined doing this within the last week,” he said. Then, he lowered his head and took your clit into his mouth. You had only opened your mouth to reply, but the words seemed to be deleted from your brain before they had time to come out, replaced by empty curse words. He didn’t waste any time in taking it slow, but you couldn’t have minded less. When he inserted to of his digits into you, your toes curled in pleasure and relief. With the way you whimpered desperately whenever he curled them against your walls, he had found your sweet spot in almost no time.

For more than a week you had been imagining, demanding for his touch, so deeply that now you could barely think straight when you finally got what you wanted. His tongue could do so much better than your own fingers could ever satisfy you. It was the unpredictability that made this so much more enticing than when you touched yourself. Would he slow down for a while, giving your breathing time to calm down, only to suck on your swollen clit feverishly out of nowhere? Would he curl his fingers inside of you almost painfully slowly, or would he almost pull them out completely, only to slide them right back into your core, until your vision felt so blurry you had to close your eyes? The more you thought about how good he made you feel, the quicker you felt your orgasm approach. One of his hands softly stroked over your belly, a strong contrast to the way your insides seemed to tie themselves into a tight knot that took up all your attention.

“Oh my god- please don’t stop,” you only moaned. Of course he didn’t. He only hummed against your center, only adding to how incredible you felt. As much as you loved watching him between your legs, there was no force that could have kept your eyes from shutting anymore. Your back arched off the sheets and your hands tightened in pleasure when the familiar feeling washed over your mind. You whimpered and struggled hard to keep your legs from closing around his head. For a few seconds you were blinded by the bliss, until your sensitivity began to set in. You softly pushed his head with your fingers in his hair, and he slowed down and drew back.

It took you a while to come down and until your breathing had regained its normality. Your eyelids fluttered open, while he plopped down next to you. He swung one of his arms around your waist, an action he had done multiple times in the past – only now neither of you was wearing clothes.

“That was amazing,” you said. “And here I thought I’d forever regret sending you that photo.”

He chuckled. “Agreed. So, what do you say? Are we able to focus on what to order for takeout now?”

You nodded and laughed, hoping this instance wouldn’t be the last time this happened between you two.

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last-herondale · 2 years

Text

Casual Encounters

✨Loki✨ pt.2

Material: Fluff, Angst, Fem!reader x Loki.

Warning: None.

A/N: Hi! I had a really fun time writing the first part to this series. I’m glad a few of you enjoyed it and I’m excited to see where this goes! Feel free to request any future scene ideas or what have you! I think I might have an overlooking story plot in mind, but fun scenes with other MCU members might also be fun!

💫

Movie nights were always a favorite on the compound. It was the one night of the month where everyone wasn’t tied down to any obligations. No one was an Avenger this night, rather they were just friends among friends. They were your family, really, and you cherished this time with them.

Of course, it was hardly ever perfect. A small group had been dispatched to Buenos Aries on a mission and so a handful of your friends were missing. Tony, Steve, Natasha, Bucky, Vision, and Thor being among them. It was supposed to be an easy mission, but they had been gone a week longer than expected. The absence of them made you itch with discontent.

“Well, I may have burnt the popcorn a bit,” Wanda’s voice came up from behind you. You turned your head and plastered on a smile as she entered the large living room and sat next to you on the couch. “The kitchen will probably smell like it for a few days.”

She offered the bowl of slightly burnt popcorn to you and you grabbed a handful and stuffed it into your mouth. You were in your pajamas, since everyone agreed that movie nights were the one time where comfort was a priority. You wore soft gray bottoms and a graphic tee that dawned a comically draw picture of Hulk on top of the Empire State Building. Bruce had found it amusing.

“Have you found a movie yet?” Wanda asked, picking around the bowl with her fingers. You had flipped through the queue mindlessly, your thoughts occupied elsewhere and had come up empty handed. You handed the remote to Wanda in defeat.

“You’re better at picking anyway.” Wanda happily accepted the remote, however a quick hand plucked it from her in an instant. “Not so fast! It’s my turn to pick.” Sam threw himself into the armchair across from Wanda, the remote victoriously in his hand as he flipped through his choices. Wanda could have easily retaken the remote with her powers, but instead she just threw a kernel of popcorn at his head.

“Fine, just no horror films. I’m not in the mood for mindless blood and gore tonight,” Wanda mumbled. She was missing Vision, you knew. Being away from him was hard for her, and you often kept her company when he was away. “You know it’s just because you won’t have Vision to hold you when you get nightmares,” you laugh, nudging her gently. She shrugged, unapologetic.

“Don’t worry ladies, if you get scared I’ll protect you tonight,” Sam replied with a smirk, his eyes playful.

“If I recall, Wilson,” a sultry voice came from the entryway. Your body stiffened slightly at the recognizable voice. “You have a rather silly fear of spiders.”

Loki entered the living room, his lips upturned in a smirk. His eyes flickered to you momentarily, his blue eyes seeming to pierce your soul. But then they were gone, his attention turned to a very annoyed Sam. “Hey man, that spider in my shower was huge. Too huge. Plus they have all those nasty, hairy legs…” he shivered. He furrowed his brow and pointed accusingly at the God of Mischief.

“I told you not to mention that, especially around Parker. Kid will never let me live it down if he hears that,” he mumbled. You and Wanda erupt in a fit of laughter as Sam rolls his eyes. “Sorry, Sam,” Loki shrugs as he slaps Sam on the shoulder playfully. “I’m sure Wanda and (Y/N) are capable of keeping your little secret,” Loki smiled. “Of course we will,” Wanda said, a large smile on her face. You nod in agreement, one hand covering the large smile on your lips. Sam just shook his head and smiled, never one to stay angry.

“Whatever. Let’s just watch the damn movie. Come on and take a seat man, I was just about to play Murder on the Orient Express. I heard it was a good mystery.”

Loki was in casual attire. A dark blue tshirt and black sweats. He was barefoot, the cool temperature of the wooden floors clearly not bothering him. He shrugged again and to your surprise, took the seat next to you on the couch. Position wise it made sense. This couch had the best view of the massive tv, but still there were other seats he could have chosen. You felt your chest tighten as the heat of him radiated from the proximity of him. Wanda, on the other side of you grinned mischievously and rose from her seat.

“I better make more popcorn,” she mused as she handed you the bowl. She disappeared into the kitchen as Sam started the movie making sure to turn off the lights as she did so, leaving you alone in the dark next to Loki. He was inches away from you now. The space between you like currents of energy, sending chills down your spine. You kept your eyes on the tv, focusing on the previews with intensity while Sam scrolled on his phone.

When Wanda returned with another bowl, she passed by the couch and opted for another armchair instead, a wry smile on her face. Not cool. You think, knowing damn well she would hear you. She just chuckled and kept her eyes on the tv as the movie played.

His presence beside you was maddening. The whole time you focused on keeping your breathing steady, as each time he shifted in his seat, the air in your lungs caught. At some point during the movie you could have sworn you felt someone staring at you. Despite the temptation, you kept yourself rigid and still, refusing to look away from the screen. Once the movie was over, you felt yourself relax a bit, glad to be able to turn and look at him for a moment.

His blue eyes were waiting for you. Up close they were beautiful, like frozen crystals in winter. Your eyes traced the shape of his lips and the curve of his jaw. “Did you like the movie?” You ask, the question strained in your throat. He seemed pleased to be addressed by you, his lips curving slightly.

“I did, actually. Midgaurdian movies are not quite like Asgaurdian plays, but I find I enjoy them quite the same.” You allow yourself to smile at him, enjoying his willingness to let you get to know him. But you were hungry to learn more.

“Well,” Wanda yawns as she stands from her seat, “I think I’m going to call it a night.” She bid everyone goodnight as she ascended to her room, and Sam turned to look at you two, amusement in his eyes.

“Now that she’s gone, I have been dying to watch Hereditary. It’s supposed to be pretty creepy. Are you guys down?” He asked.

You weren’t one for horror flicks. You’d seen enough horrific things in your lifetime, especially as an Avenger. But you weren’t ready to go to sleep yet. You wanted to stay in that couch more than anything. “Sure,” you finally say. Sam grinned and looked to Loki who just shrugged. Taking that as a yes, Sam immediately began to search for his movie.

“I never took you for a horror fan,” Loki murmured beside you. His face had leaned closer to your ear, making a chill roll down your spine. You lifted your chin to him in defiance, refusing to look weak. “I don’t scare easily.” He gave a small laugh, and his brilliant teeth shone for a second. His eyes seemed intense for a moment as they bore down on you. “I’m sure you don’t,” he said in a low voice. You shivered again.

As Sam started the movie, you felt a soft blanket materialize around your lap. You turned to see the final bits of magic as the rest of the blanket covered his lap as well. “Thanks,” you mumble, turning your head towards the movie. After a few minutes into the movie you felt Loki shift in his seat. He leaned closer to you, his shoulder leaning on yours as you felt the chill of his skin on yours.

“If, on the off chance you do get scared,” he whispered in a low voice, his breath hitting the back of your neck, “ you are more than welcome to hold my hand.” He was teasing you, you knew, but somehow the playfulness was gone from the atmosphere.

You leaned back slightly, letting your mouth get close to his ear. “And if you get scared? What then?” Your heart was slamming against your chest. You had never been so close to him, so playful. How far could you push your luck? Loki chuckled softly. You felt cool fingers trace along your forearm aimlessly. “Hmm, now there’s an idea,” he almost purred. You wanted to play along, oh you wanted so much more than that. You turned to him, your eyes deepening with desire.

“What did you have in mind?” He whispered, his lips grazing your ear, making your head swim.

“Loki…”. Your voice trailed off.

Suddenly the lights blazed on, the whole living room alight, causing you to quickly push away from Loki. Sam was up instantly, a look of concern on his face. Wanda had run from her room, her combat gear on and a worried, frantic look on her face.

“Wanda, what’s wrong?” You asked, your body rising from the couch.

“It’s Vision, and the rest of the team. There’s been a problem. There coms are knocked out, and they haven’t reported to their next checkpoint.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. Sam was by her side, a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Woah, slow down. What’s happening?” He asked.

Wanda took in a deep breath, her eyes settling on you with fierce intensity. “Suit up, all of you. We’re being called in.”

#mcu loki #mcu fanfiction #reader x loki #fem reader #loki fluff #wandavision #sam wilson #reader x marvel

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jasontoddssoulmate · 3 years

Text

I made an account for the sole purpose of this TUA fic concept

I’m a sucker for those “the characters read the books/watch the series” fics and I’ve read a little for TUA but I just had the idea:

The Hargreeves kids watching the two seasons but instead of just the seven of them, their birth mothers are brought in to watch as well

Maybe have the birth mothers family (if they have any) watch it with them

This happens before everything. Before Ben’s death, before Five’s disappearance, before they even have their names. The kids, One through Seven, are brought in. Maybe when they’re old enough to get the gist of what’s going on, but before they’re 13.

These 6 young women are brought in (because I adore that Luther and Five being twins is canon in the comics and I love the mention of it), and they’re confused because maybe The Umbrella Academy isn’t internationally well known so the kids are familiar but they can’t put the name to the face. Not until they introduce themselves, anyways, and suddenly they’re face to face with the baby that they gave away years ago.

Maybe a few of them regret it, maybe they tried to forget it, maybe they spend so much of their time thinking about it or maybe they’re overjoyed that their baby seems to be doing so well.

But their names.

There’s just so much about them that doesn’t feel,,, so right? Maybe that’s not the word for it but they’re too polite sometimes, their casually cruel treatment towards their sister isn’t normal and the way that they simultaneously act entitled and inferior towards each other isn’t suppose to be as normal as the kids make it out to be.

All in all, the women are confused and maybe a bit wary of their casual usage of powers among each other that’s normal to the siblings as much as it is abnormal to the birth mothers.

But communication is easy since each child learned their own mother language as well as the language of their siblings birth place and then some which only seems to remind the women that holy shit these kids are technically rich because of their father

The Hargreeves though? They’re confused and wary as hell. They may not have been introduced as The Inaugural Class of The Umbrella Academy yet (or maybe they have considering what your timeline is) but they’ve been training for most of their life and the situation is baffling. Here are these random people that they’ve never met before (at least to their knowledge) and they’ve never had to go outside to interact with others, not really at least.

So it makes sense that they go for polite but threatening. They maybe decide unanimously that the weaker willed ones like Four, Six and Seven are discreetly protected behind their older (in spirit) siblings, One, Two, Three and Five.

But they’re no real threat, its obvious in the way that the Hispanic woman uses such an endearing term like “mijo/a” and the way that the Russian woman has an ever present smile on her face and such a sweet disposition that reminds them of their littlest sibling and hey her eyes look just like Seven

So after a while, they’re more open to being relaxed. Not Five though, he’s always been just a little paranoid and being a 58-year-old in a 13-year-old body never had anything to do with it. So he’s got a harsh personality but the Danish woman doesn’t seem to be deterred. He kind of reminds her of her older twin brother who acts so harshly, but who she knows loves her so much.

So here are 7 siblings and 6 women and maybe family that was there for the women when they needed them the most. And maybe the person(s) behind this decide to be kept anonymous but they oh so want the children to get to know what being cared for is like. Maybe these women get to know the consequences of their actions or the children learn that the one who birthed them had their reasons. And it’s no excuse but it’s also not their fault. Both parties should be able to feel what they feel because it’s a complicated and maybe painful situation.

The children lose their respect for their father every episode. Even One, who they all know cherished the favoritism but it doesn’t get in the way of his horror when he finds out that he used to lock Four in the mausoleum, still does if the flashbacks are anything to go by because not Four, not the kindest and brightest of their siblings.

And when they learn of Seven’s powers and the reason why they are never present, they are understandably upset. They feel rage and disbelief that she had such a crucial part of herself ripped away at such a young age, because they know that their powers are like another limb. They’re born with it and they grow up with it and they were able to live their life with it so they feel rage. Rage that Seven had been so violated. Rage that the Seven they know isn’t really the Seven she was suppose to grow up to be. The Seven they knew as toddlers was sweet towards them but had a mean protective streak a mile wide that could never be controlled, not even by their father. The Seven they know now is so meek and desperate for attention. The Russian woman looks the most devastated as she thinks of the baby girl she got to hold for only a few hours before she was whisked away by a rich old man who is turning out to be the monster that one often hears about in television.

But the women? They watch as the children in front of them, maybe a little damaged and emotionally constipated but so obviously protective and caring for each other, grow to be the grow ups in the screen above them that grow up and grow apart after so much tragedy.

They watch as seven eventually becomes five.

How Luther is sent to isolation for years and he goes along with it in a bid to continue to please their father.

How Diego continues to rebel because he wasn’t able to growing up but also maybe because he wants to spite his father, no matter how much he protests that he could care less what his father thinks.

How Allison goes through a divorce and loses her parental rights to even see her daughter due to her dependence of her powers that leaves her devastated.

How Klaus is an addict who desperately wishes to get rid of the ghosts that have followed him all his life.

How Five disappears only a little while after their current timeline.

How Ben was brutally killed by his own powers, never getting to grow up and become his own person.

How Vanya can’t seem to do anything but go through the motions of her life, maybe having a little hope that she’ll be seen this time around, but is quickly squashed from Diego’s disparaging comments and the casual dismissal of her from her living siblings.

They watch all this, and feel sadness and rightful anger that their babies lead the life of ex-child superheroes. The life of abused children. The life of children who had only each other.

But was it really enough? Was it enough to know that they loved each other but had a hard time showing it and owning up to it due to fear of their father? Due to the constant comparisons and the way Sir Reginald had them turn on each other.

But they knew it was enough. They see it in how Diego waits for Klaus to drive him around even after he had expresses annoyance beforehand, in the joy on Allison’s face when she sees Klaus again after so long, in how Five makes sure to check up on Klaus after his kidnapping, on Luther’s face when he apologizes to Vanya after realizing his own misgivings, in Ben’s task of continuing to follow his brother around even when it pains him and in Klaus trying to comfort Luther after he finds the unopened correspondents. They see it in the support they show Vanya as she goes to check on Harlan.

It had to be enough to know that after all they went through, they still care for one another and at the end of the day, would protect one another just as they were as One through Seven.

So they watch what would be the Hargreeve’s kids misadventures, they watch as they grow together and grow apart just to grow together again, much stronger than before.

They express sadness and disbelief when they see where Five ends up, they get mad when Leonard throws Vanya’s pills away, they grieve when they learn that Ben is dead, they’re embarrassed but find it hilarious whenever Klaus cracks an inappropriate joke, they become protective when there’s allusion to Vanya having sex, and are rightfully ready to throw down with Leonard as they watch their littlest sibling get gaslit into believing her family hates her as he nitpicks all of her interactions with her family.

But just as they express their feelings over what happens to their family, they feel an immense amount of exasperation towards their older selves because so much could be fixed if they only talked to each other.

They watch and despair over the missed opportunity that is Leonard in the same house as them just as they find out what his role is in the apocalypse.

Four tears up as he watched Klaus and Dave’s reunion be undone after all the heartache.

Seven cringes when Vanya dismisses Five’s claims that he had been stuck in an apocalyptic wasteland and suggests that he’s gone crazy after his stint with time travel.

Three feels her heart drop to her stomach as the flashback shows what becomes the moment that she faces the hard truth that come with her use of her powers.

Five feels himself flush in embarrassment as he watched two version of himself in the future, one that looks not much older than he does currently, go through paradox psychosis.

Six feels frustration and a fierce grief that leaves him confused because he’s still alive he’s not dead, but I don’t have much longer.

One feels horror as he watches himself hurt his siblings one after the other with a sense of helplessness because this isn’t me, I wouldn’t do this but I already did, why would I hurt my siblings, I’m Number One I have to be the one who protects them-

The women, on the other hand, see themselves in their children.

The French woman sees how her daughter and granddaughter, it seems, both look like a carbon copy of herself and her own mother.

The Danish woman sees herself and her twin brother in Luther and Five. Sees her own personality reflected in Luther and her brothers personality in Five. Sees how her twins care just as much for each other and their siblings as herself and her brother do each other.

The Hispanic woman sees Diego’s fierce sense of justice that leaves others in the dust, and sees herself as she fought to keep her boy but ultimately lost him just as Diego loses Eudora. She thinks to herself like mother like son and bitterly laughs to herself but she’s so grateful that Diego had a mother who cared for him just as she cared for him because she often though about him and always made sure to commemorate his birthday.

The German woman can’t help but see herself in her boy. Can’t help but see her little brother in him. Can’t help but see her older brother in him. Because Klaus is so joyful but he hides his pain behind a mask like her younger brother, he’s so loving towards his siblings like her older brother, and so nonsensical like herself. So like herself, down to the curly hair and the addiction. Even if she was able to overcome it with support from her family, it pains her and leaves her in despair to see Klaus and can’t find fault in those he had around him because she sees how much they try and sees how hard the Hargreeves find expressing emotion is to others.

The Asian woman sees how sweet and shy her youngest is and thinks only of her oldest, who reminds her so much of him and can only despair in seeing that he didn’t live as long as her oldest had. She can only ask herself why her children don’t seem to be able to see themselves to adulthood but can only be grateful that even in death he has someone with him.

The Russian woman knows that her husband sees her in little number Seven, in Vanya, no matter how little that is. Maybe their personalities aren’t so similar because Seven is shy but she’s got the sweetest heart and so clearly loves her siblings. She has the same smile that she has and her little doe eyes remind her of herself when she was younger. She’s so small next to her siblings, just like herself.

So they see themselves in these kids, these grown ups. But so do the Hargreeves.

They see how Luther looks like what the Danish woman would look like as a man and how Five looks exactly like a younger version of the Danish man who introduced himself as the woman's older brother.

They see how Two has the same skin tone and facial structure as the Hispanic woman.

They see that Allison looks exactly like the French woman and see the same in Claire.

They see Four’s curly hair and slim build in the German woman.

They notice how Six shares the same dark hair and lower facial features.

They see Seven’s eyes and smile and short stature in the Russian woman.

So maybe they don’t know them well enough to see what the women see, but they grow to see it overtime because they spend so much time there, in this suspended room in time.

The women insist on getting to know them and vice versa. They insist that they have to talk about their feelings and assure them or gently scold them, depending on the reason, for what they feel because god do these children need to learn how to talk more about their emotions in a healthy way.

They get closer to the children and start to really see their childish side. They all fight over the silliest things, and become pouty when attention isn’t being drawn over to them. They crave physical affection, even Five who won’t admit that his maternal uncle patting him and One of the head made him feel all gooey inside. They make faces towards foods that they don’t like and still prefer junk food over real food.

So maybe it’s harder to let themselves act like children because they’re being conditioned to not “be childish” but even then they have their lapses in control. Four enters a state of panic after being reminded of his time in the mausoleum. One feels overwhelming guilt when he sees how Luther hurts Klaus and reminds himself that he’s the one that needs to protect them, as the leader and self proclaimed older sibling. Five feels himself cry for the first time in a long while when he sees how his siblings act towards him in the future and realize it hurts him deeply because he knows that he’s messed up their lives a lot but can’t they see that he only want to keep them alive, he doesn’t want to see them die again, he can’t-

But instead of being shamed into controlling their emotions, they are comforted and reassured. Four’s birth mother helps ground him and counts his breathing with him to keep him from falling further into his panic. One get’s reassured by his birth mother that his future self isn’t his current self. That everyone in the room has seen just how much he cares for his siblings and knows he would do anything for them. The twins uncle gives into his urge and hugs Five, whispering in a hushed tone that it’s okay to cry, to let it all out. He whispers that his older siblings are being idiots and if they knew just how much their actions were hurting you, they wouldn’t hesitate to apologize and hug you too. His words only make Five cry harder.

So they are cared for and allowed to be themselves fully and can be childish to their hearts content. And their birth families watch on in amazement and adoration.

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

I have so much more that I’ll probably add later, but basically I want them to be cared for, allowed to care for each other and learn to express themselves better. I want to see them get to have a good relationship with an adult and if possible their birth mothers.

Pls share links and stuff if you get inspired, I’m not much for writing fanfic but I really do want to see something like this. I’d read the shit out of it. I have so much more that I want to add but I’ll probably do something about it later.

#i just think it's neat #they deserve to be cared for #Luther and Five are twins #they may all be the same age but there's definitely an older sibling/little sibling vibe among them all #i love the idea of each of the kids and the women seeing family traits in each other #i headcanon Vanya as a feral protector of her siblings before Sir Hardass took away her powers #Vanya was the epitome of i've only had them for a day but if anything happened to them i'd kill everyone in this room then myself #except she was raised with them but my point still stands #they watch the series #i have mixed feelings about the Hargreeves birth mothers #protectiveHargreeves #protectivesiblings #lutherhargreeves #allisonhargreeves #diegohargreeves #klaushargreeves #tua five #five hargreeves #fivehargreeves #benhargreeves #vanyahargreeves #spaceboy #thekraken #therumor #theseance #the horror #the boy

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danishmiilk · 3 years

Text

when thunder splits the sky - na jaemin

au || royalty!au, soulmates!au

genre || angst, fluff, slight crack

warnings || swearing, death mentioned, almost deathly sickness, a lot of stress on jaemin and y/n’s part, throwing up.

summary || soulmates. the source of happiness, the source of sickness. you’re shocked that your best friend (and the second prince) is your soulmate, but it shouldn’t be too bad. after all, you’re best friends, right? you know each other better than anyone else in the world. but when jaemin refuses to realise his love, shit hits the fan.

word count || ~10k

note || this is a collaboration piece with @astroboy-lele for @k-dinernet‘s dance off event!

you and jaemin were close, closer than a commoner and a prince should be. but since you were the main cook’s daughter, it wasn’t too uncommon to see the two of you running around with bright smiles lighting up your faces. then studies took over for jaemin. he was constantly studying to become a better king than his dad, which was slightly unfair since he wasn’t even the crown prince. but accidents could happen, so jaemin had to be prepared. so you were left to your own devices most of the time, fiddling with things in the kitchen, or helping clean the monstrous castle jaemin called home.

“jaem!” you giggled happily when jaemin emerged from the library’s study. he looked tired. more tired than a 17 year old should be. dark circles contrasted his pale skin, and your hand automatically came up to rub at his slim cheeks. “you should get more rest.” you chided him.

“can’t.” jaemin responded curtly, removing your hands from his face. “i need to study.”

"but you're always studying," you sighed. it shouldn't be this hard to spend time with your best friend, but you supposed it was one of the cons of befriending the second prince of your kingdom.

"you don't understand, y/n! how could you? it's my duty to my family and my country to keep studying in case, heaven forbid, anything happens to doyoung hyung!" he snapped sharply at you, and though you knew he was clearly overstretched and stressed beyond anything you'd ever seen him (or didn't see him, he was always in the library nowadays anyway), you still took a step back and flinched away, hurt. jaemin stepped forward, mouth trying to form apologies. you shook your head, eyes glassy.

“don’t.” your voice was softer than expected. “i’ll.. i’ll leave you to it.” you ran off before jaemin could even react, wiping at your eyes.

jaemin watched you go. he watched you leave, back retreating into the dark hallways. he felt bad, of course he did - jaemin would never snap at you for no good reason. the last time he actually wanted to hurt someone was when you came to him sobbing, one year ago. the memory was still fresh in jaemin’s mind.

you supposed it could be you being too sensitive, but it was the toll the absence of jaemin took on you. sure, absence made the heart grow fonder, but it also did make cracks emerge in a friendship. you couldn’t see your cracks yet, but they’d emerge soon enough - it was the first time in so long you’d managed to talk to jaemin, and he’d just brushed you away brusquely. your hand raised to your eyes to wipe away the stray tears that had fallen.

without looking where you were running, you’d bumped into something very solid. something very human. roughly, you placed your hands on said solid thing and pushed yourself away, speeding around the obstacle to the forest, tears still filling up your eyes. you didn’t blink them back - if you’d blinked, they were sure to have fallen out.

“y/n?” the very confused crown prince shouted out from somewhere behind you, “what’s going on?” and unbeknownst to you, his brother was soon to follow, brushing past him like he was invisible (last he checked, he wasn’t.) “jaemin?” the pair of you had left long before there was a chance to provide the prince with any of his requested answers, leaving a very confused doyoung standing in the middle of the hallway. sighing, doyoung brushed off his clothes. sometimes he didn’t know what he put up with you for.

once you set foot into the forest, immediate regret almost washed over you. it started raining. not gently either, it came down in harsh droplets, hammering into your clothes, thoroughly soaking you to the bone. you shivered, rubbing your hands up and down your arms, trying to bring warmth to yourself. it didn’t work, so you settled with standing under a tree in an attempt to stay out of the storm. you gazed up at the sky, wincing as thunder rumbled in the distance, reminding you of your fears. you wished with all your might that the storm would stop. it didn’t. of course it didn’t. why would it, it was nature, and nature didn’t listen to common people, only the gods above. “y/n? y/n! oh my god, y/n!” you heard a shout echo through the forest, and you shivered again. “there you are, do you know how long i’ve been looking for you?” jaemin accused, hands grabbing at your shoulders. you glared back, though it wasn’t threatening as you were shaking and shivering, teeth chattering. “you know it’s the rainy season and almost winter! what the fuck were you thinking?” jaemin huffed, but shrugged off his coat and draped it around your shoulders gently, concern making his eyebrows knit together.

“it was sunny before.” you protested, and jaemin exhaled, shaking his head with disappointment at your naive actions.

“you should know the weather changes quickly,” jaemin retorted, and that shut you up. you knew the weather changed fast, but emotions took over you, just wanting to escape the castle jaemin called home. “we should find some shelter. i know there’s an old cottage somewhere, i just don’t know where.” jaemin sighed.

you raised your eyebrows at him, “what, it wouldn’t be some strange warped hansel and gretel remix going on, would it? because we’re not smart enough to push witches into ovens.” jaemin smiled widely, chuckling at your small jab at yourself and him.

“no, it’s completely safe.” he assured you, grabbing your hand. jaemin nervously cleared his throat. “uh… i, i should apologize for earlier. it wasn’t right for me to snap at you.” you squeezed his hand gently.

“i know you’re stressed, it’s okay. i really should be more lenient.” you sighed, slightly disappointed in yourself for not understanding your best friend’s struggles. his hair was sticking to his forehead, yours similarly sticking you your arms and neck.

“it’s just the expectations, you know. of my parents, of the people… of the country.” jaemin’s eyes widened in horror and fear, an expression that would be almost comical under different circumstances and whispered, “what if i have to rule the country one day?”

your friend blanched and you sighed, tightening your hold around him to anchor him to reality, “look, i’m not saying you’re incapable of doing it, but it’s really quite impossible that something were to happen to doyoung, so i don’t think you really have to worry about that too much. still, being royalty is probably way harder than i could imagine.”

his voice wistful, jaemin’s eyes shined with tears - or perhaps it was just the rain creating illusions. “sometimes i wish i were never born into royalty. but you know what, there’s pros and cons to everything, that’s just how life is. we get privileges, but we can’t have the best of both worlds. still,” he looked down at the wet ground, “every time i see children running about or playing with their friends in courtyards or in the streets, it makes me wish i had a childhood. makes me wish i had friends, and was allowed to play with them, to live a normal life. normal. what a beautiful word, really, and how ironic that millions of people would give anything to be a member of the royal family, while the second prince would do anything to get out of being one.”

there wasn’t very much to say, you thought, considering jaemin very rarely went into long, emotional speeches like this one. you’d never be able to understand, and you weren’t about to try. softly, so very softly, you whispered, “but you have me.” jaemin smiled softly, and slightly proudly at you.

“yeah. yeah, i do.” and he did. he’s always had you, from the first day he sneaked into the kitchen for a taste of his birthday cake before he was supposed to, until- well, there isn’t an until if you’ll have his back forever, is there?

a cottage was beginning to come into view in the distance, a quaint little thing fit for no more than one person (or perhaps seven dwarves, no reference to snow white intended). the rain blurred your vision and wind whipped through your hair, but it was shelter, and so hand in hand, you ran towards it.

“to what honour do i owe the presence of the second prince at my humble abode?” a boy’s voice, sweet and melodic, came from behind you.

you jumped. “jaemin! i thought you said it was safe.” you hissed, clutching at jaemins arms. jaemin just shrugged. you sighed, keeping an eye on the strange boy. jaemin gripped your hand tighter, however.

jaemin gestured vaguely around, staring at the auburn-haired boy with no small amount of skepticism, “i thought you’d be… older. like, an old lady.”

the boy scoffed. “who’s to say i’m not? witches don’t always have to be middle aged ladies with no fashion sense and even less hair. i’m donghyuck, by the way. come on in.” jaemin was still looking the boy up and down in curiosity, finally blurting out, “witches use umbrellas?”

“no, we’re waterproof,” donghyuck deadpanned, sarcasm filling his words.

“jaemin,” you frowned, “do you know him?” a quick shake of his head confirmed your suspicions. “then why,” you half-screeched into his ear, “do you assume he’s safe?”

“i’m not. i could turn you into a frog, if you want.” the boy suggested, waving a hand, making you flinch and jaemin move your smaller frame behind him. donghyuck moved a shoulder evenly up and down, “joking.”

“that wasn’t funny!” you gasped. donghyuck moved his other shoulder up and down, doing a strange half-shrug again, “nobody gets my humour.”

you followed him into the house, dripping water all over his doormat and the wooden planks of his floor, but not daring to move any further than that. donghyuck waved his hand, slamming the wooden door shut behind you and lighting the fire, “will the two of you stop looking so shocked? it’s not like i’m going to cook you for dinner, so why are you acting like you’ve never seen a witch before?”

“because we haven’t,” the note of childlike curiosity reappeared in jaemin’s voice, and you were glad his mind was taken off of his royal duties, “they were outlawed a long time ago.” “right,” donghyuck levitated a couple mugs of cocoa over to you, “i forgot, sorry.”

“so your existence is basically illegal, and yet you’re serving the prince of your kingdom hot chocolate in the middle of the thunderstorm like nothing’s wrong?” you sputtered in disbelief, though you didn’t actually splutter, of course; that was rather an expression authors liked using. “all in a day’s work,” donghyuck glanced at you again, “come in and stop dripping water on the mat. would you believe it, magically drying the mat is harder than magically drying the wood.” very honestly, you didn’t know what to make of that boy.

you stood awkwardly, pressing yourself into jaemin’s side as you watched donghyuck bustle around his house, ironically not unlike an old lady. “so, ummm, could you show us some magic or something?”

“like drying our clothes,” jaemin added, motioning to the soaked fabric draped over his body.

“they’ll dry, just sit by the fireplace. in the meantime, i can show you a soulmate spell if you’d like to see it. it’s one of the easier and prettier spells, so i think you’d enjoy it, even if it’s highly unlikely it would work. soulmates are rare things, and even rarer are soulmates who discover each other and the fact that they are soulmates. so i’ll do it, but if you two don’t turn out to be soulmates, don’t be disappointed. if you do, there isn’t going to be a flash of golden light and a shower of sequins either, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“you’re saying like what would happen is one of us would die and suddenly come back to life.” you sarcastically commented, but eyes growing wide as the moon above when donghyuck looked around nervously.

“well…” he started, but you held up a hand.

“excuse me, what. come again?”

“let me just show you.” donghyuck sighed, and got up, grabbing a book from the large shelf pushed against the wall. he flipped through a few pages carefully, and let out a satisfied “ah,” when he found the correct page in the yellowing book. “the concept of soulmates hath been the strongest bond known to man since the beginnings of time. for the true blossoming of true love takes place when the eyes of soulmates transform into colours of the fall. time and time again, history older than anything thou or i could ever imagine hast proven that soulmates are rare, ones who know about them even more so. for thee, the pair who is reading this, thou art soulmates. it would be an insult to fate and everyone who cannot experience such a connection to not realise your feelings. thou hath one month to realize feelings or one half of the pair will be fated to a cruel ending. as mere mortals, we do not make the rules. nobody can help thee except the other, but fear not. you are soulmates. you have a bond. said bond shalt be enough, if thou realises it.” haechan read, rubbing the thin, old pages of the book between careful fingers. you glanced over at jaemin who was shifting his weight back and forth, not knowing where to put his feet. “so, basically,” donghyuck started, ignoring jaemin’s nervous state. “if your soulmate doesn’t acknowledge their feelings for you, or you don’t, one of you would basically die.” he shrugged. your mouth dropped open. how in the world was he so calm about it? “what the fuck? they could die?” jaemin seemed to share your sentiment.

“what is a fuck?” donghyuck furrowed his eyebrows together, evidently confused as to what this strange new word meant. jaemin faltered, taken aback, “wait, dude, you look like you’re, what, seventeen, and you have no idea what fuck means?” donghyuck looked at jaemin like he was an idiot, “never gotten the chance to interact with a lot of other seventeen year olds.” jaemin nodded solemnly, “can relate. only got this loser for a friend.” jaemin hooked a thumb in your direction. you rolled your eyes.

“let us begin the spell! i feel like i’m conducting a child gender reveal party,” he exclaimed happily, rubbing his hands together with glee. you held up your hand.

“hold the fuck up, you’re not performing this spell! one of us could DIE!” you exclaimed.

“there’s the word fuck again. kinda catchy.” donghyuck tested it out under his breath. “any other new words?” he asked. jaemin opened his mouth, no doubt to actually teach donghyuck how to swear, and well, you weren’t exactly opposed to letting him, but not dying came higher than teaching people you just met how to swear on your priority list.

“don’t worry. there’s only a slight chance that you’re soulmates anyway, and it’s better to know than to remain in oblivion. i’m not kidding.” “ignorance is bliss?” you suggested, desperate to stop donghyuck. “no, y/n. i think… if we indeed are soulmates, we deserve to know. i want to at least know why i died if i do suddenly die.”

“i have heard of that saying, y/n, was it? say, can fuck be used as a noun, a verb or an adjective?” “any way you want,” jaemin grinned, “reality can be anything you wish it to be!” “sweet,” donghyuck plonked a cauldron of unknown origin onto the table, “i like that word already.”

pulling a ladle out of seemingly nowhere, donghyuck pointed said ladle at you, “what’s your favourite flower?” you stared at him blankly, “you need that for the spell? i don’t really have a preference.” donghyuck rolled his eyes, “no, i was just curious. if you’re interested, your aura says daisy and jaemin’s absolutely screams carnations. for the record, i have zero idea what those flowers mean, but who cares?” he waved an arm over the cauldron which then proceeded to bubble, pushing dandelions and carnations to the surface. white. all white. “pretty enough, i suppose. i don’t usually give my services discounted, so you can just teach me some new words and it’s a deal.”

as you thought back, you did have a small memory of making flower crowns with jaemin. you often made daisy crowns, while jaemin’s were, as far as you knew, carnations. they were always given to you, all his carnation-based flower accessories: crowns, necklaces, bracelets.

you were jerked back to the present and away from distant memories as jaemin helpfully, or not so helpfully, instructed donghyuck on how to swear, “so, motherfucker is a noun. the verb equivalent is motherfucking, but that’s usually used as an adjective anyway. can also be shortened to mf. bitch is a more female-specific curse word since its original meaning was something along the lines of female dog.”

“i thought dogs were nice,” donghyuck pointed a finger aggressively at the bubbling liquid inside the cauldron, flowers obscuring most of its contents, “this always takes way too fucking long to boil so i can’t do anything. how perfectly bitchy of it.” jaemin’s face lit up with that mischievous smile you were so used to, “you’re a natural!” “why, thank you.” you had to be imagining things. either that, or your ears were waterlogged. shaking your head wildly, all you got was a headache, so no, your ears weren’t waterlogged. and so the two boys before you were complimenting each other casually on their ability to swear, even as one’s existence was against the law and the other was the prince of your kingdom. because that was not… strange. not strange at all.

“why don’t you teach him things like crap, hell and damn? why… fuck and bitch?” donghyuck had settled into an armchair by the fire, snapping his fingers every minute or so to keep the cauldron’s contents boiling, “you want to learn the interesting shit. like, you know, if i can learn shit and motherfucker then why am i learning crap and hell and damn? they sound lame compared to bitch, fuck and shit.” donghyuck shrugged, you sighed, and jaemin nodded like he’d birthed and raised donghyuck for seventeen years just for this moment.

“i mean, my parents don’t let me curse, but it’s fun to see them mad sometimes.” jaemin shrugged. you shook your head at the boy next to you (we shall omit the fact that he learnt half his curse words from you, and the other half from the legendary crown prince’s speech in which he accidentally swore half a dozen times in front of the whole nation. doyoung got grounded, but it made jaemin, and by extension you, developed a heck of a lot more respect for him.) you watched quietly as the two boys exchanged details about their lives and excitedly swore together. unconsciously, you started shivering again, your clothes still not quite dry. jaemin noticed, and picked up the blanket laid across his lap, wrapping it around your shoulders, making sure the blanket was secure around you before turning back to donghyuck. you learnt he also liked to be called haechan or hyuck, lived out here all his life, and didn’t know much about the kingdom from having to stay hidden from the world. jaemin’s expression held a hint of guilt, knowing that he was a member of the family that had caused huyck's plight.

“ooh! the spell is done!” hyuck clapped, and scrambled to his feet, once again doing the weird shrug thing, skipping over to the cauldron. his hair bounced and jaemin snickered while you quieted him. you shrank back into the couch as the sounds from the caldron became louder and donghyuck’s eyes started to sparkle. jaemin grabbed your hand, palms slightly sweaty. donghyuck peered into the large metal bowl, and smiled. his smile made you a bit uneasy.

“ready?” he asked the two of you, and jaemin nodded while you hesitated.

“yes.”

nothing happened for a moment and haechan waved his hands over the flower-filled water, mumbling some ancient words. you watched, eyes wide, as the water came out in a stream, winding around the circumference of the small cottage, and then around you and jaemin’s hands. you gasped, as the water was ice cold though it was boiling just moments ago. a daisy settled on jaemins wrist, wrapping around it tightly. a carnation wrapped around your finger, like it’s own special promise to you. jaemin frowned.

“is that supposed to mean something?” he asked, tugging at the flower. it didn’t move or tear. haechan eyes doubled in size as his eyes zeroed in on the flowers.

“you’re… you’re soulmates.”

jaemin stood there in shock, and shook his head. “no way. we’re best friends.” he protested. your heart was slightly crushed, as you liked him for a few months now. who wouldn’t? “we can’t be soulmates. no way.” he shook his head again, as if to clear away the water clogging his ears. you let go of jaemin’s hand. your heart was hammering, matching the raindrops that pelted to the ground.

“are.. are you sure?” you asked, voice wavering. haechan nodded. your hands were shaking now, and jaemin was ignoring you. “can i… may i lie down?” you asked, twirling a finger around your long strands of hair. donghyuck nodded, pointing you to what you assumed to be his room. as you slipped off, you heard jaemin and donghyuck whisper something together.

the next few days you didn’t see much of jaemin, only when he came out of the library to get food. even those days were rare, as he often ate in there, or brought his lunch in during the morning. and each day, jaemins face looked more and more pale. the flowers had vanished, though they left marks on where they rested just a week ago. you cast a glance down the empty hallway to the library, feet hesitating. you made up your mind, pushing open the large oak doors and… found jaemin passed out on the ground.

you gasped, rushing over and checking his temperature. it was abnormally normal, though he was sweating. you called a maid over, and soon you found yourself in the hospital wing. how were you going to break it to his parents that their younger son was sick because you two were soulmates. the thought itself was ridiculous.

“is jaemin okay?” well, fuck you, he’s obviously not. an undertone of worry was detected from the trained calmness of doyoung’s voice. the king and queen had yet to arrive, and doyoung stood behind you, hand resting on your shoulder in a slightly failed attempt to calm you. quick breaths left you, panic filling your mind and cluttering your lungs. the crown prince patted at your shoulder awkwardly, turning to leave as he couldn’t really do much. besides, it was fairly obvious the two of you needed to be alone.

as the day faded into night, jaemin was still, not moving as you watched him, hands grasping at your hair. this was all your fault. no, it was that bitch of a witch named donghyuck. he cast the spell. you wanted to blame jaemin for not accepting that you were soulmates, and now he was going to die because of it.

obviously, you hadn’t had a soulmate before. but you could sense it, you knew that no matter what jaemin had done, you wouldn’t be able to stay mad at him. to love so hard you’re falling, but you know you’re flying. you’re not there yet, definitely not. there was an inkling of the possibility of that happening, though. you barely blamed jaemin for everything (which was mostly his fault anyway), and staring at the pale complexion of the boy in front of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to stay angry. you slipped your hand into his (see? can’t help it. this was all because you were soulmates, and totally not because you just wanted to.), and as storybook-esque as it was, it felt so right. a maid brought you dinner, but you couldn’t bring yourself to scoop the rice and noodles into your mouth. your stomach was protesting, but you didn’t care, resting your head on your arm, you clutched jaemin’s hand tightly. tears pricked at your eyes, and this time, you didn’t stop them.

doyoung came by again in the morning and found you awake, dark blue and purple eyebags obnoxiously present. “have you been here the whole night?” you stretched, not letting go of jaemins limp hand, back aching from the uncomfortable position you were in for the whole night.

“is there a wrong answer?” you asked, yawning as you spoke. doyoung sighed, rubbing at his temples.

“he’ll survive, y/n. it’s just sickness. we have the best doctor-”

“it’s not just a sickness!” you snapped, fire igniting in your stomach, the need to protect haechan slowly shrinking. you found yourself telling the oldest prince everything from getting caught in the rain, jaemin having a breakdown, the walk in the woods, to finding the cottage, and even the witch you encountered, though his existence was very much illegal. doyoung listened. he listened to every word, and nodded along, though his eyes were slowly going from panicked to angry.

“so, you found a witch, donghyuck, was it?” you nodded in confirmation, death gripping jaemin’'s hand. if he ever woke up he would for sure scold you for making his dominant hand ache. “he cast a soulmate spell, and jaemin didn’t accept. so now the gods are punishing him?” you nodded again. doyoung sighed, rubbing at his temples again. you watched anxiously, worried for donghyuck’s safety.

“could you get donghyuck to come here?” doyoung asked. that is not what you were expecting. blinking nervously, you nodded. you remembered the path jaemin took, right? if not, you could just shout.

“do you promise not to kill him? or like, arrest him? he’s an annoying motherfucker, but i think jaemin would be sad if you did,” you inhaled. doyoung nodded with a perfectly straight face. “he could turn you into a frog.” you added, deciding to trust him. doyoung looked a bit shocked, but you reluctantly stood up. “i’ll be back.” you whispered to jaemin, leaving doyoung to look after his brother.

setting off in the woods alone was scarier than you thought. shivering, you really wished you had jaemin in that moment. really wished. the sooner you got to donghyuck, the sooner he would be better, right? wrong.

“what do you mean you can’t remove the spell?” you shrieked, panic filling you once again. donghyuck looked sorrowful, and doyoung was standing with his arms crossed off in the corner.

“i can’t, i’m sorry, y/n. jaemin has to realize he loves you for the sickness to go away. and either way, all my spell did was prove that the two of you were soulmates. the sickness stems from the heavens”

“i have to what?” jaemin’s voice cracked slightly from not using it for the past few days. “jaemin!” you practically sobbed, hand clenching around his fingers from where you’d reached for them unknowingly. he squeezed back weakly, coughing. “what do i have to do?”

“realize you love y/n.” haechan said simply.

“i don’t think it works like that!” your voice came out slightly higher than usual, laughing nervously to stop jaemin from feeling uncomfortable. he had to, love didn’t work as such. you just didn’t decide to go, ‘okay today i have decided i love y/n!’ jaemin looked at donghyuck with visible confusion. all haechan offered was a half shrug in return.

“what happens if i don’t?” jaemin whispered. haechan glanced at doyoung, nervous that someone so high and regal was standing in the same room as him - jaemin didn’t count, seeing as he’d spent the first hour of knowing hyuck teaching him to swear, and he wasn’t the crown prince anyway - if he did or said the wrong thing, he would definitely get executed.

“we’ll get there when we get there. how long does he have?” doyoung asked. you gripped jaemin’s hand tighter, nervous of the answer. “it… depends?” donghyuck offered. doyoung scowled. “very helpful.” “i’m sorry, i’ve never had to deal with this kind of fuckery before,” donghyuck waved his hands around, “okay, swear i’m not doing magic, but i really didn’t cause any of this. okay. maybe a bit. but it would have happened anyways.” your eyebrow lifted.

“what do you mean, anyways?” jaemin asked, frowning.

“the soulmate spell only helps the soulmates find each other. and gets the show on quicker, but a year from now, the same thing would’ve happened.” haechan explained, still waving a hand. doyoung’s eyebrows knitted together. “so, jaemin and y/n should spend as much time together as they can.” hyuck concluded.

“and die faster?” jaemin snarled. haechan shook his head quickly, eyes straying to the other royal member in the room.

“no, if you spend more time together, then it’ll slow down until you realise you’re in love. usually, you get only a week, but if you spend every day together, it’s up to… a month?” haechan shrugged, letting the slightest hint of resentment slip into his voice, “maybe i’d know better if i actually could come out of hiding to be taught by more experienced witches. my work here seems to be done anyway, adios!” it was like donghyuck was born to be a showman. he ripped the curtains off and disappeared under them with a flash, letting the rich fabric settle slowly to the ground. doyoung sighed.

“well, you guys heard what he said. spend as much time together as you can.” doyoung shrugged. “and jaemin, try not to die.” doyoung added, a small smile playing at his lips, like he knew something you didn’t. jaemin nodded, head thrown back onto the plush pillows. you frowned, jaemin usually loved to hang out with you. something definitely changed over the last few weeks.

try not to die, he said. well, you were definitely dying inside. and jaemin wasn’t getting any better, coughing, occasional throwing up, and sneezing. he barely could keep his food down, let alone sit up without any help. it worried you. it worried you a lot more than you let on. to say things were awkward was putting it lightly. everyone avoided the two of you, seeing the tension held over your and jaemin’s heads. you started to get fed up after a few days.

“what happened? aren’t you supposed to be with jaemin?” doyoung asked as you stormed downstairs.

“he’s not talking to me. what’s the harm in taking a small break?” you exhaled, running a hand through your now messy hair. doyoung frowned, the worry lines creasing his forehead. “don’t worry, i’m going back to the ward in half an hour. it’s just so… infuriating.” you ranted to the crown prince, resting your head on the stairwell railing. doyoung had stopped you half way down the stairs. “we’re soulmates for god's sake! can’t he just… talk to me? when did he start to see me as a bother? when did he… start to hate me? it’s like we never were friends. i miss him, doyoung. i miss my best friend. i miss his smile, his laugh, his weird antics, i miss my jaemin.” you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes for the third time today. jaemin being sick and ignoring you while, quite literally, on his deathbed did not help. especially since you two were soulmates.

“when did you start to fall in love with him?” doyoung questioned softly. you thought for a moment. when did you truely start to love jaemin? not in the rain. not when you had your first fight when you saw him. no, it started a while ago. when jaemin started to grow up. when you stopped making flower jewelry and when he started to give you real gems. when? you weren’t exactly sure. maybe you always loved him. maybe he always loved you. but when would he figure that out? doyoung just nodded, understanding your confused gaze, unfocused and misty-eyed. he stood up, brushing his black slacks and deep red shirt. “give him a bit. jaemin is a bit slow with these kinds of things.” you only nodded in response, mindlessly walking back to the ward jaemin was residing in.

jaemin still was not getting any better the next few days. he still refused to talk to you, only nodding or rolling his eyes as a response to you trying to start to converse. you were starting to lose hope.

you were surprised to see him lying on the cold tiled ground.

“jaemin, why are you on the ground? you should be in bed. it’s cold out.” you scolded, moving towards him. jaemin held up a hand, draping his hands over his stomach.

“the floor is nice and cold,” he uttered, sighing with relief as the tile cooled his sweaty body down. you frowned, huffing. jaemin, once again, did not listen.

“the ground is dirty. i can turn down the heat-” jaemin cut you off.

“shut up! i’m dying, i don’t care if the ground is dirty!” jaemin hissed, and you backed up, saddened by his tone. jaemin didn’t notice, too busy coughing into his elbow to notice your state.

“you’re not going to die,” you whispered, and jaemin moved his elbow away. “you’re not. i refuse to let you. i don’t care if you don’t love me right now, but you’re my soulmate, jaemin. soulmate. do you know how many people wish to have soulmates? jaemin, i’ve been by your side since we were in diapers. we played in the mud together. we got in trouble together. we did everything together, jaemin. i watched you grow up. i watched you become more responsible. i watched, and i waited for you to confess. but you never did, so now you’re sick, and it’s all your fault. don’t push the blame on me, on donghyuck, or on anyone. this is on you. if you want to sit here and wallow in your self-pity, go ahead. i’m tired, jaemin. i tried to give you time, but you only have three weeks left. i don’t…” you choked on your words. “i don’t know what i’ll do if you ever die suddenly.” you whispered, backing out of the door. jaemin struggled to his feet, but you were already gone, ends of your hair and dress flowing behind you.

he stared at the empty spot where you’d been just moments before, feeling the same emptiness in his heart. bitterness welled up from within him. he wasn’t that dumb either, but love just didn’t work that way. just because some spell told you that you were soulmates didn’t necessarily mean that with a magical click of your fingers you’d stare into each others eyes and sappily declare your everlasting love.

doyoung stepped out from nowhere, looking around with a confused expression, “where’s y/n? i swear i saw her here just a few minutes ago.”

“hey, hyung.” doyoung hummed in response. jaemin sat up with some difficulty, holding a hand up to stop doyoung from trying to help him, “what if this sickness has got nothing to do with the soulmate fuckery? what if i just, uh, have the plague or something?”

“have the plague or something,” doyoung drawled sarcastically, “the last time the plague was going around was, like, a hundred years ago.” jaemin winced.

“or maybe i have cancer.”

“or maybe,” doyoung narrowed his eyes at his brother, “you’re just being a fatheaded dick who can’t come to terms with the fact that you’re soulmates with your best friend, and have to realise your love for each other so you don’t suddenly stop breathing!” doyoung stalked out of the room without a single word, pausing to seemingly contemplate whether slamming the (very heavy) oak door would help prove his point. he very intelligently settled on just stamping his foot. it made him look like a child, but jaemin hadn’t seen doyoung this upset in a while. and frankly, it got him thinking a bit.

you walked into the hospital wing as usual without greeting jaemin. it wasn’t like you got a reply anyway. “hey,” the prince offered as you took up your usual spot by his bed with a book, a clear indication that you didn’t want conversation.

your eyebrows twitched a little. granted, you weren’t expecting him to say anything, but it must be a testament to your friendship if your little blow up had at least gotten jaemin to think a little. you stared pointedly down at the book you didn’t even know the title of.

“y/n.” still no response. “you’re holding the book upside down,” jaemin sighed.

furious with yourself, you flipped the book the right side up again, “you don’t want to talk to me. stop forcing yourself to.”

“i do want to talk to you, okay? i don’t particularly want to die either, the soulmates idea is just hard to stomach.”

“what, does loving me sound so bad? am i so unlovable?” you slammed your book closed, trying not to choke on the shower of dust that came with it. logically, you shouldn’t be getting mad. jaemin was just trying to make things better, but he sounded so forced. “you sound so forced to do this, jaemin.”

“oh, are you getting mad at me now? you were sad because i wasn’t talking to you, and now you’re mad because i am! what the fuck am i supposed to do?” jaemin glared at you from underneath the covers, “i’m trying, okay? i thought you said you didn’t want me to die!”

“i don’t want you to die!” you hissed back at him, tears springing to your eyes again.

“are you crying again? if every time we talk you get that sad, then maybe you should just let me die!”

you dusted yourself off and ran out of the room, not even bothering to give jaemin an answer. why didn’t he get it? it’s not that hard to understand! (when else but) on your way out, you bumped into (who else but) doyoung, crying (what else but) angry tears. again. you really had to stop doing that.

to nobody in particular, doyoung whispered, “why are they so angsty?”

“we need to talk,” doyoung declared the moment he walked into the room in one of the pockets of time that you weren’t in it. jaemin looked up from the extremely interesting loose thread on his blanket and nodded, “what about?”

“y/n.”

jaemin’s expression darkened in a nanosecond. “no,” he practically growled, “not her again. i can figure this out myself, doyoung hyung! you don’t have to help me.”

“if you can figure this out yourself, the two of you wouldn’t be the embodiment of every sad angsty book ever written.”

“it’s our way of coping with things.” the words sounded fake even to jaemin’s own ears.

“no,” doyoung deadpanned, “don’t fuck around with me.” he hissed, “you know she cries every time you give her unwanted insults. let’s count how many times i ran into her, sometimes quite literally, in the hallway with her crying. one, the day you two got lost in the woods. two, when you were passed out and unresponsive, three, a few days after you woke up and weren’t talking to her, four, literally yesterday after you basically told her she was unlovable.” doyoung held up his fingers mockingly and it felt like jaemin had just been slapped in the face. “four times, na jaemin. four times you fucked up, four times y/n felt worthless, four times more than needed. four times. thats more than anything that happened in the last 16 years of your friendship. four times in less than a month. get your shit together, jaemin.” doyoung snapped, and spun around on his heel. jaemin felt like everyone was against him at this point.

a week passes and hey, what did you know? some improvement was showing. you and jaemin could hold, an (albeit very awkward, but still) a conversation. it was a relief to you, but you were slightly suspicious of him. jaemin still couldn’t look you in the eyes, glancing away or inspecting his nails. but you couldn’t ask anymore of him, he went from straight out ignoring you, to asking how your day went. jaemin sent you a small smile, fiddling in his seat.

“how… how are you?” jaemin asked, glancing at your features shyly. you smiled, though it felt more forced than genuine.

“i’m good. have you been getting better?”

“well, you know. not really,” jaemin shrugged, not looking at you, “it hasn’t been getting worse either, though.”

you ignored the way jaemin was pointedly avoiding your gaze and offered a half smile you didn't really mean, “the weather isn’t very good today, is it?” the weather hadn’t been really good for the past week or so. even if you weren’t spending every waking (and sleeping) moment by jaemin’s side, you wouldn’t have been able to go out of the castle. the relentless rain pouring down on the windows made sure of that.

“y/n, i still think we have to talk.” jaemin’s expression turned serious, “i know i’ve been a dick these few weeks, and i’m not even going to try excusing myself for that. but i want you to know that no matter what, i still treasure you a lot as my best friend. i think i just need time - okay, admittedly we haven’t got very much of that left, about a week and a half or so, but i struggle with feelings. i really struggle a lot and it’s overwhelming and i miss you so much, i miss talking to you not-awkwardly and i want our old relationship back.”

you promised yourself you weren’t going to cry again, because god knows you’ve cried too much. “okay then,” you laughed lightly, “if you’re going to make this a deep sentimental talk, just know that i’m willing to wait for you for as long as you need. sadly this isn’t up to me.”

jaemin remained silent for a bit, taking in what you just said. when he spoke again, you were shocked. “do you think i love you?”

you cocked your head, “what i think doesn’t matter. the question is what do you think?”

“i want to know what you think.”

knowing he wasn’t going to let you go until you told him so, you sighed, “i think you do.”

“platonically or romantically?”

“my father wants my help in the kitchens, your highness. i’ll see you later.”

it was raining again, and you didn’t show up in his room like normal. jaemin was worried, and he got out of his bed clumsily, grabbing a cane, which he winced at. he looked like an old man with it. drawing back the heavy velvet curtains, the glass of his widow was covered in water droplets, all racing to the window sill. jaemin spotted you running around the courtyard, mouth open with a muted laugh and eyes sparkling even though you were soaked to the skin. jaemin found himself smiling, watching you with fond eyes. his senses kicked in, and he realized. he was truly, and utterly, with every fiber of his being, every cell in his body, in love with you. with his best friend. with the person who stuck by him all these years. who loved all his flaws and imperfections. he, na jaemin, second prince in line, never to sit on the throne (he didn’t mind that part), was in love with you. a cook's daughter, a commoner, but most importantly, his soulmate.

when you came inside, your teeth were chattering and you were shivering all over, but it was the happiest you’d felt in a while. nothing was better than dancing in the rain, really, except dancing in the rain with jaemin. that now… that was a hundred times better, but na jaemin was sick, so you’d have to forgo that. practically waltzing into jaemin’s room, you grinned at him, your good mood making you forget all the awkwardness. he was just your best friend, your best friend of so many years. awkwardness who?

“jaems!” it might have been the prior realization of love making jaemin completely disregard any tension that might have been between the two of you earlier, but he grinned back at you just as happily as you’d greeted him, “y/n!” he frowned, pretending he hadn’t been watching you from his window just a few minutes prior because that was borderline creepy, “why are you all wet?”

“i danced in the rain. oh god, jaemin, do you remember that time when we were dancing together in the rain and then decided to use a banana leaf as an umbrella but we got wet anyway? and then-”

“and then,” jaemin picked up seamlessly from where you left off, the grin not disappearing, “doyoung hyung came to check on us because he was scared we’d catch colds from running around in the rain all day. then we slipped and fell into the mud, splashing him all over.”

you laughed, a light tinkling sound that reminded jaemin again of why he loved you, “i swear the mud mask made his skin better.”

jaemin practically screeched with laughter, “you mean you’ve been looking at my brother’s skin?”

the overwhelming love and affection you felt for your best friend in that moment, both platonically and romantically, made you throw your arms around him, instantly soaking him through with your wet clothes. somehow, the two of you ended up sprawled on his bed.

“you know what? i love you.” jaemin sighed, snuggling into your embrace. your ears burned red.

“you.. you what?” you asked timidly. you really hoped jaemin said what you thought he said. jaemin smiled, leaning back more, adjusting the position the two of you were in. you now were snuggled into his chest, sighing as you felt your eyelids droop. jaemin chuckled lowly, and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“i’ll be here when you wake up.” he whispered softly. you fell asleep, mind calm for once.

“jaemin- okay, you can explain why y/n’s soaking your bedsheets through and the both of you are completely drenched in rainwater first,” doyoung arched an eyebrow, “have y’all finally gotten your shit together?”

“i think i love her, hyung,” jaemin’s arm curled protectively around you, “really.”

doyoung clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval, “you think? be sure of it, jaems. i’ve practically raised the two of you and watched you grow up, and now you say you only think you love her?”

“i love her.” jaemin struggled to hold back the laugh that was threatening to spill out of his chest. “i love her!” he repeated again, louder this time. seeing the finger doyoung had to his lips, he quietened down to prevent waking you up, “thank you, hyung. for knocking some sense into me.”

doyoung smiled, “anytime. it’s my job, after all. now, i think you two need some alone time. see you at dinner, i truly doubt you’ll still be sick.”

you were awakened by the sound of the door closing. rubbing your eyes tiredly, you looked around, disoriented, “did someone come in?”

“it’s nothing, y/n. just a servant. sleep, i love you.”

you yawned, “i love you too.” and you snuggled back under the covers with him, acting like it was the most natural thing to do in the world.

“hey,” jaemin whispered in your ear, waking you up gently, “i hate to have to wake you up, but dinner’s in a few. my parents want to see you too, apparently.”

you blinked the sleep away from your eyes, looking at his smiling face. waking up to jaemin’s smile was something you could get used to, you thought. “what?”

“i said, we have to go get ready for dinner. you too, yes, main banquet hall, my parents want to see you.”

your mouth dropped open, all thoughts of sleep gone, “i don’t have clothes suitable for a fancy dinner!”

“oh yes you do. wear that yellow dress with the sunflowers.”

“is that formal enough?”

“y/n, like, you’ve literally talked to my parents so many times. they watched you grow up. they’re not so different from doyoung and i.”

“but this is the first time meeting them as your girlfriend!” oh god, did you really just say that? you cringed inwardly. you hadn’t even put a label on the relationship yet. rushing to make amends, you stuttered out, “soulmate. i mean soulmate.”

“you’ve always been my soulmate. as for girlfriend, well, you can be if you want to, but we have explaining to do. now move! the entire bed is wet!”

with strength a sick person shouldn’t possess, jaemin threw you out of his bed playfully. you looked up in shock and happiness, “you’re well again! you’re not sick anymore!”

jaemin grinned down at you from his bed, “we realised our love. see you in twenty, adios, au revoir, zaijian, sayonara!” yelling at the top of his lungs, he pushed you out of his room and slammed the door, and you honestly couldn’t care less. you were flying (figuratively, of course), drunk on the sentiments of finally realising your feelings for your best friend and soulmate.

growing up in the castle had taught you some things about manners, especially when the queen insisted you attend some etiquette lessons together with jaemin (to keep him in check, she’d said). dropping into a deep curtsey in front of the royal family, you rose again when the king placed a warm hand on your shoulder, “get up, y/n. we’re all family here, there’s not need for such formalities. you never really did those before either.”

“i was eight and didn’t know much about manners,” you protested lightly as he steered you into your seat beside jaemin, then taking his own at the head of the table - the king’s seat.

you ate in silence and as fast as you could without being rude. nobody made a move to break the silence, so you sat and waited until the last of the plates had been cleared away by the servants, then leaned forward, “if it isn’t rude to ask, may i know why i’ve suddenly been called here for dinner?”

the queen smiled kindly at you, “of course not, dear. well, today we have two announcements to make, one of which concerns you.” she glanced at the king, who inclined his head at her with a smile as if to say “the floor is all yours, dear.” the queen turned back to you, and seeing the dying rays of last light hit her face, you were again reminded of how beautiful the queen was. “firstly, about doyoung. now, we all know that my dear son here is turning twenty one in a month’s time and has finished his education. and so, doyoung, my son, your father has decided to pass on the kingdom to you. the announcement to the people will happen in a few days’ time, if you agree, and the coronation shall be held on your birthday. you are a much beloved crown prince, and i am sure the news of your coronation will delight the kingdom. i do hope you accept. so,” she practically glowed with pride, staring at the shell-shocked prince, “do you?”

“it would be an honor, mother. but didn’t father say he enjoyed being king?” doyoung, the rightful heir to the throne and the one who’d been trained for this his entire life, looked shocked, to say the least. you couldn’t blame him; it must’ve felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

“your mother and i have long been dreaming of a proper honeymoon in the carribean. away from the eyes of the public,” his father’s voice boomed encouragingly.

“then yes, i accept,” doyoung’s eyes were shining with tears and you really hoped he wasn’t about to cry. knowing him, once he started crying, he wouldn’t stop and that would really… kill the mood.

“cheers to king doyoung,” jaemin raised his glass of juice (seventeen is not of a legal age to consume alcohol) to the sky, looking elated for his brother, “and for heaven’s sake, king doyoung, don’t cry!”

doyoung sniffled a little, holding his own goblet of wine to his brother’s, “i won’t cry! thank you so much!”

“congratulations,” you grinned at doyoung, who’d been just as much your elder brother all these years as he’d been jaemin’s. just in the past month, he’d slapped the two of you so hard to get your shit together, and he should honestly be crowned fairy godmother of the year. except that he wasn’t old, didn’t have white hair pulled up into a bun, and (sadly) didn’t own wings.

“now for our second announcement. doyoung’s explained everything to us already, i hope you don’t mind.” doyoung grinned guiltily at you over the table - honestly! like he’d done anything wrong! “you’re obviously too young for marriage, but y/n, your parents, whom i’ve just talked to, and us - we give you all our blessings. let this relationship prosper!”

jaemin squeezed your hand in his assuringly with a victorious smile like he’d known all along that this would’ve happened. you choked back a sob of your own, “thank you! thank you so much.”

“we’ve never known that soulmates existed, but now that we do know, there isn’t a truer pair than you and y/n,” she addressed jaemin, “treat her well.”

“i swear, mother, you love her more than you love me,” jaemin half-groaned, ignoring his mother’s angelic smile and reply (“i do not! i merely prefer to be around her.”)

“to the new king and couple!” jaemin’s father raised his goblet for another cheer, and you downed your drink in one gulp. tilting your head to grin at jaemin, you thought there really couldn’t be any happier moment in the world.

©danishmiilk, 2020. ©astroboy-lele, 2020.

#kdinerdanceoff20 #neowritingsnet #nct-writers #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x reader #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct angst #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct dream #nct #na jaemin #jaemin

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patchofhope · 2 years

Note

pspssp let me hear about ur rewrites

Ok in honor of it being 413 im gonna actually sit down and share some of my personal changes that will be made to Homestuck Lore. One day I'll actually do an ENTIRE rewrite (because rewriting things, as in ACTUALLY writing them, makes me so goddamn happy u don’t even know) but heres some of the major changes. (Apologies for any grammar mistakes, my brains on full zoomies mode)

There are more than two fuschia bloods at a time, and traditionally, they're supposed to duke it out by a certain age to decide who becomes the heir(ess), but by the point the story takes place, it's more or less accepted that a lot of fuschia bloods just… don't want to do that? So they don’t. some hide out as anons, some just don't bother to turn up. The reason Fef's the heiress is bcus she basically turned off every fuschia blood in the area from fighting bcus of how sweet she is (and probably unintentionally stopping a couple assassination attempts in the process). It also helps since Gl'bgolyb is around, but that’s besides the point.

Vriska finally gets to be 'literal child in a really shitty situation with horrible influences doing what she thinks is right but is proved wrong later on and learns from her mistakes' instead of just 'hurr hurr vriska bad' bcus seriously I hate the way her character was handled

Gamzee is no longer just a haha funnie clown troll who go crazy and instead his mental wellbeing is taken seriously because it pisses me off endlessly that him 'snapping' is treated with the same amount of 'respect' as a serial killer in a shitty horror movie. No. Actual mental decline and recovery for you because attention to detail (even if it does nothing but make me, and maybe a few others, happy) is one of my beloveds.

I'm probably gonna change up the entire genetics for trolls too since the 'genetic behaviour' stuff that’s in canon just… That is Wrong and I shouldn’t have to explain why. Also just because I wanna throw in more spice to break up the monotony of grey, and actually paying attention to their biology instead of treating it like a joke is one way to do that. (seriously, what animals do you know are just. Grey. Like just one shade of grey with no features.) And bcus I get WAY into the actual internal biology of any species I make/touch to the point where I literally plot out how their organs rest in their body.

The dancestors actually get the respect they deserve as individual characters, instead of being walking stereotypes.

The carapacians get ACTUAL LOVE because HOOHOO INSECTOID PEOPLE??? ILL GLADLY WORK WITH THAT!!!

Midnight Crew + Felt get a better story (still time shenanigans, but I'll actually keep a fucking timeline of events, because it always loses me). Oh, and each one gets a proper personality instead of 4 of the Felt feeling like the same character copy pasted. (Its unfair. You will not do that to my squishes)

The kids get complete reworks, and along with it comes NEW potential points of conflict. And also Genderfluid!June who realizes it p early on because, while I may dislike HS2 greatly, June is… beloved to me. But I still love og John. So why not have both?

I will love each and every character in this goddamned webbed comic because the creator sure as fuck didn't. Stories for everyone. Everyone gets a resolution of some sort. EVEN DAVE. ESPECIALLY DAVE.

THE SPRITES WONT BE FORGOTTEN THE SECOND THEY STOP BEING USEFUL???? SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.

And finally, because thinking of so many things at once causes space brain, the world will actually be built. Because above biology and character interactions, the thing I love most is fleshing out the areas around them. No more 'Lands getting mentioned once and not being relevant ever again'. Every single land will be visited at least once. It's a long enough story, there's plenty of time. (this mostly means a lot more time spent on the Troll's session, because I genuinely wanted to know what they were all up to before the meteor.) Theres a whole bunch more, but I can't just sit here and keep writing this forever so, I'm cutting it shorter than I want to. (infodumping go brrrr)

#cy answers #homestuck #its 413 babeyyy #lore drops #cy rewrites media because they can #genderlfuid john/june my beloved #i think its bout time for the reread of homestuck #it has been a while #and my memory is that of a fruit fly #but the spn brainrot #if it wasnt the hs rewrites you wanted to know about sorry but its 413 and i kinda assumed #feel free to ask about the others #or my ocs #or literally anything

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skiyoosmi · 3 years

Text

❝ for the rest of my life ❞

⤷ pairing. atsumu x reader

⤷ genre. angst

⤷ warnings. swearing, mentions of death

“holy shit! i don’t think i can do this, yn,” a deafening string of curses escaped atsumu’s mouth the moment he looked down; his heart thumping as he was welcomed by the overwhelming view of new zealand’s high mountains. he gripped the thick ropes that held him in the air by his sides as his thoughts scrambled all over his brain, if it was still there, he hopes.

"oh my god, stop being such a whiny bitch, you big coward,” you howled in laughter out loud upon seeing his rather comical face, a louder round of them when the one of the staff instructed him to stop shaking and to stay still.

“did ya really have to fucking pick bungee jumping in nevis swing as yer birthday wish?!” he seethed, head moving side to side as an attempt for a ‘safety check’ while the instructor shushed him, telling him that it’s dangerous if he keeps on thrashing around, “dangerous?! is she stupid or something? even if i don’t move, it’s still fucking dangerous! the fact that i’m hanging on these ropes are enough to lead me to my death! shit, i’m not ready to die, yn! we still have to get married in five months, have you forgotten already? i can’t believe ya’d want to die before our wedding!”

“tsum, you won’t freaking die! if anything, this… is what living really feels like! besides if you do, i’ll follow you so we can both die together, isn’t that like… your last will?” you giggled when he glared at you the hardest he can, only for the annoyance to vanish from his face and be replaced with horror when the instructor began counting down from ten.

“ohhh, god… oh my god… i love you, yn! you have to remember that, okay? if i die, don’t you ever follow me… holy shit… i love you… FOR THE RE–” he screeched, body finally being pushed and falling towards the spacious air with him facing the view, much to his utter despair. other spectators even let out their own set of snickers when his girly-like screams reached their ears while you got ready to jump as well, smiling as the countdown began for you.

“i love you too, doofus… for the rest of my life,” you finished before yelling as the cold wind hit your face. nonetheless, your heart was filled with joy and satisfaction, feeling it become even fuller as you both smiled at each other lovingly while dangling in the air and patiently waiting for the staff to pull you back up.

“i seriously thought we were gonna die that time,” atsumu let out a chuckle as he lifted his face, a fluttering feeling beginning to form as he saw your smiling face in front of him. he sighed and brushed his hand over his hair, “but to be honest, i felt so happy to see ya so happy too… BUT nothing can ever beat our wedding day!”

“ahh… we were supposed to get married in five months, right? i could remember my parents’ face when we decided to move it three months earlier. their faces were literally so funny… but then yer brother? oh god, i got seriously scared.”

“you want to… WHAT?!” atsumu’s mother gasped right after your fiancé finished talking, hands folded in his lap in hopes that they will see his sincerity and respect. his father, twin brother and your grandmother remained silent as they thought about atsumu’s proposition, your brother had his usual demeanor – though you knew him better than anyone, he was probably mentally freaking out as well.

“with all due respect, atsumu, can you give us a reason why you opted to not waiting for two more months?” shinsuke sternly asked after a few moments of silence, the others looked at atsumu expectantly, curious of your reasons as well.

“i just… what’s even the point of waiting for three more months? we’ve literally been dating each other since we were still young, and the wedding preparations will be simple. i honestly don’t think we have to spend five more months for that; it’s not like we’re going to have an extravagant ceremony,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head while cautiously looking at your brother, who seemed slightly convinced with your fiancé’s explanation. the talk lasted for more minutes, discussing over the wedding preparations and both of your plans after the wedding itself.

“marriage is not something you can just back out of, atsumu. just because dearest y/n’s family gave you permission for her hand doesn’t mean you can break it off easily,” his father spoke up, giving a grateful look to shinsuke and your grandmother, “you have to promise them that you’ll take care of her, respect her at all times and of course, love her as much as they love her, if not, more.”

“of course, dad! i love yn… for the rest of my life,” he proudly huffed, making the elders shake their head with a smile plastered on their faces while you felt your face flush, not really used to him declaring his love in front of your families. he noticed, much to your dismay, and began pulling on your cheeks.

“aww… is my squishy baby shy?” he cooed while you glared, blushing even more when you saw your brother cringe from your peripheral vision, “stop it, tsum!”

“how do ya even manage to be so cute and beautiful at the same time?” he gushed as he reached out to touch your face, thumb caressing your cheeks as he looked at you fondly. your smile never disappeared throughout the night and atsumu almost felt like he was dying from the way his heart pounded against his chest.

“i thought it was impossible for ya to even look better… but once again, ya proved me wrong on our wedding day. god, ya always do.”

“am i in heaven now? cause i’m literally seeing an angel right now,” he choked out, letting out a shaky laugh as he tried to hide the fact that he was already getting emotional. you laughed heartily, squeezing his shoulders as you both danced in the middle of the reception hall. it was obvious, even to the guests, that both of your hearts were being filled with even more love for each other, if it was still possible.

“stop being so cheesy, you big baby,” you whispered; the happy tears that previously clung on the corner of your eyes now flowed down your cheeks freely as he told you more of his lovely words. as the next song came, he pulled you closer, hands going around your waist while your head now rested on his chest.

“remember my 18th birthday?” you asked, smiling at the memory as he hummed, obviously doing the same as you, “i didn’t have any other boys to dance with me for my eighteen roses so you and the rest of the team members pulled me in the middle of the gym.”

he let out a low chuckle, recalling how flustered you look upon entering the said venue and finding their small decorations that adorned the whole gym.

“you, samu, rin and nii-chan even danced with me a few times to complete the eighteen dances,” you continued, sighing contently when he hugged you tighter, “i never realized i loved slow dancing so much until that time.”

“i’ll give ya as many slow dances as ya want,” he declared, making the tears well up once again as you nodded gratefully,

“i’d really love that… i love you so much, tsumu… for the rest of my life.”

“and i, you.”

“i told ya i’d dance with ya as much as ya want, didn’t i, yn…

so why did ya leave me only after three months?” he choked out, now-fully grabbing the picture frame that sat on the table for too long already. it was a selfie of you and him in new zealand, just right after your bungee jump. you had your usual bright smile on while he looked almost as if he just returned from the war— well, at least to him that’s how bungee jumping felt like.

“i’ve known you for so long, how could i have never realized?” he sobbed, clutching the frame to his chest as he leaned back on the chair, crying so hard that he didn’t know how to breathe properly anymore.

“you… you would’ve been a great actress from the way you hid it,“ a rather pathetic attempt to laugh through the tears resonated from him but to no avail, it only came out as a childlike whimper.

“and…. i hate it, i hate that i was so oblivious to yer suffering all throughout those years…

i would have given you my heart, yn. i’d rather you live instead of me.”

a melancholic air engulfed the whole room as yours and atsumu’s family stood grimly, bowing to guests that paid their respects to your wake. on the other hand, your husband pitifully sat in the corner, dull eyes staring into nothing, not even bothering to fix his sitting posture.

while his mother wanted him to interact with the guests out of respect, your grandmother understood and let him mourn, “he must be so devastated. he’s had her for every moment of his life then all of a sudden, she’s gone.”

hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, she had it ever since we were still young. even doctors could not believe she lasted this long but a few months before your wedding, she found out that… she only had little time left to live; shinsuke’s mourning voice as he whispered those words echoed in atsumu’s mind as he tried his best to not fall asleep. i think that’s why she took you to those extreme activities and married you earlier………

she wanted to die as your wife after all.

although he appeared to be stoic outside, nothing could compare to the intensity of the pain and sorrow that ate all of his insides. it was as if the moment you took your last breath, he also did.

he remembered it as clear as the day– you were supposed to be having a picnic in the park since he just came home from a short tournament but then in the blink of an eye, you were clutching your chest in pain, no longer having the energy to act strong and unaffected. soon, you both found yourselves in the suffocating hospital room; with you lying on bed while he sat beside you, hands locked in yours while the doctor and nurses frantically checked on you.

her heart is giving out, one of the nurses announced as if it wasn’t obvious from the way you gasped for air, your hold of atsumu tightening while he let out agitated screams of ‘do something, doc!’ and ‘fucking save her!’

“i… if i die… don’t follow… me…” you manage to choke out as you felt your death nearing as more seconds passed by, like every bits of your energy is being sucked off of you. you were doing so good for the past twenty years and more, why did it have to happen when you were with him? why is it not when you were having your usual wednesday hangouts with your brother? you didn’t want his last memory of you to be this. he shook his head and cried out loudly, “i won’t because you won’t die… come on, y/n… we still have a lot of things to do.”

“tsum, i’m… tired… i lov–”

a loud beep cut your sentence off, your voice drifting into thin air while he sobbed even more. as your hand fell limp in his, the doctors announced your time of death and whispered their sincerest apology, bowing their heads and leaving the room to give your husband his space and chance to say goodbye. all his memories proceeding that felt blurry, as if his soul was no longer intact with his body, as if it went away with you.

you didn’t even get to finish saying ‘i love you’ to him.

but for the rest of his life, atsumu will bear the agony of being unable to say it back.

the rest of the night were filled with atsumu’s rants as he mourned for you, reaching the point where he literally fell asleep with tears escaping his eyes while he clutched the pillow tightly, as if it was you he was holding instead. it no longer smelt like you but for some reason, it was the best comfort he could get from anything nor anyone.

morning came and he groaned, the worst headache he had ever experienced woke him up from his deep slumber. turning to the other side, he looked at the digital clock his hotel room provided before his head hit the soft cushions again. as if he was reminded of something important, he shot up and scrambled to get off the bed, hastily grabbing his towel and making a beeline to the bathroom.

perhaps fifteen minutes passed before he got out of the somewhat refreshing shower, all dressed up and soon, he found himself in a familiar place. heaving a sigh, he entered the place and gave a tight smile to the staffs that welcomed him as soon as the doors slid open.

“welcome to the nevis swing, mr…?” “miya atsumu.” “… mr. miya, may i ask which of the activities would you want to do?”

a good few minutes later, he was already hanging freely on the air, releasing a deep sigh as he held on the ropes tightly. as he closed his eyes, he recalled every single second of the time you were here with him, letting a small smile be formed by his lips as he did so.

he opened them again as the instructor started counting down from ten…

“holy fuck, i can’t do this. shit, yn!”

can you see me, yn? i can actually do this… even if i’m alone right now.

six…

“did ya really have to fucking pick bungee jumping in nevis swing as yer birthday wish?!”

i’d do this as many times as i can, you just watch me from up there.

three…

“i love you, y/n! you have to remember that, okay?” he yelled out as the count neared one, looking down at the accessory that adorned his neck, the wedding ring you previously wore twinkling due to the sunlight as if you were answering him. i love you too, atsumu.

one.

“…for the rest of my life.”

#skiyoosmi drabbles #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu x reader #atsumu headcanons #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu angst #atsumu drabbles #haikyuu imagines #atsumu imagines #miya atsumu #i cried... AGAIN

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queen0fm0nsterz · 3 years

Note

If we can infer the masks that Six acquires once belonged to previous Ladies in their youth then we can figure out their personalities based on the masks meaning/descriptions altogether: The teacup mask girl probably was too curious for her own good, Scarecrow mask girl was terrified and tried to close her eyes from horrors, Fox Mask girl was rather cunning and brave with skill in exploring, Tengu Mask girl may has accepted her fate in the end to fit in with the horrors

(Give this post a look for context!)

OMG YES! I'm so glad we're on the same train of thought, anon! Let's break these girls down and take a look at the rooms where their boxes are found as well and see if we can get a general idea of what the previous Ladies must have been like.

Teapot

Here's the official description of the teapot mask:

"Six is a natural born explorer, but bad things can happen if she peeks a little too far in. By the looks of things, she might be wearing this Upside-down Teapot a little while longer! "

Just like you said, anon, this girl must have been too curious for her own good, venturing into places she wasn't supposed to be in. I like how they drew a parallel between Six and Teapot, mentioning that they're both explorers.

The room where we can find Teapot's box, and in particular the outfit she's wearing, is quite interesting.

The implication here is that she probably used to be a prisoner of some sort. Plus, to reach her box we actually have to mess with the stairs quite a bit and she's literally stuck in a tiny hole between boxes. This is probably symbolic: the other rooms containing the boxes all use some sort of symbolism, so this could rappresent Teapot feeling trapped.

So to sum this one up: Teapot used to be a curious child, exploring around in places where she shouldn't have. Because of the prison motif we can theorize that she might have felt trapped once she took on the role of the Lady, a role she couldn't find her way out from.

Tengu

Tengu is an interesting one, and I can easily tell you she's my favorite out of the four. Let's take a look at the official description for her mask:

"Fear can take many forms and can live in many worlds. Wearing this Japanese Tengu mask won’t keep Six safe from harm, but it will certainly make her fit in! "

The "live in many worlds" line... possible reference to the fact that the children might come from a different dimention rather than the one LN takes place in? I'm probably overthinking this. Still, I definetely think Tengu not only accepted but also embraced her role as the Lady, unlike Teapot. The implication from this is that she did it out of fear and self preservation. You know what they say - if you can't beat 'em, join them. Still, it doesn't seem like it kept her out of harms way.

I think it's also worth mentioning that Tengu masks are used as decorations because they're believed to frighten bad spirits and bring good luck. Mh.

Moving on to Tengu's room, this one is a BRAIN SCRATCHER.

This isn't actually in Tengu's room but the one right before, I just want you guys to keep in mind that the doodles on the wall were indeed done by nomes. Moving on to her actual room, we start off pretty strong.

GIRL IF THAT ISN'T THE THIN MAN COMING OUT FROM THE TV I LITERALLY DON'T KNOW WHAT IS. Look at him, he's even got his hands in display like he does when he's about to break free in LN 2 and when he kidnaps the toddler in the comics!

He seems to be going after a group of children, the nome and his friends? The implication here is that he kidnapped them.

EDIT: OK HAHAHA SOMEONE IN THE COMMENTS MADE ME NOTICE THAT IT MOST LIKELY IS JUST AN AIR BALOON. So I probably just overanalized this (thank you for commenting btw!! I appreciated that a lot!). Still, I think the hand in the room before belongs to the Thin Man, or possibly even the Ferryman. Or even some other monster entirely. So the kids ran away from somewhere using it. I wonder if they where trying to avoid going on the Maw... mhhh. Anyway, their escape failed.

And here we see the ever present, all seeing Eye, and boom! Suddenly the children have been turned into nomes. That particular eye shape reminded me of the security eye we can find on the Maw. But what caught my attention the most is this:

Lo and behold, a tall, feminine figure, who has also been doodled on, implying that she died, right behind Tengu's box. I'd also like to point out that all the candles in the room have either melted or are about to.

This nome seems to have told us his own little adventure he had with his friends before he was captured by one of the previous Thin Men and brought on the Maw? Only to be turned into a nome by Tengu, a.k.a. one of the Ladies.

To wrap our girl up: Tengu, unlike Teapot, had accepted her fate and embraced her new role as the Lady of the Maw to the fullest in order to survive. It's also possible that she used to be familiar with one of the previous Thin Men, seeing how he's most likely taking the children to the Maw. Unfortunately, the Tengu mask did not protect her from the horrors of the world and she met her end.

Fox

Out of all the presumed Ladies, Fox seems to be the one most similar to Six, at least according to her mask's description:

" With so many nooks & crannies to explore in this unpredictable place, it takes someone special to survive. Six is as brave and cunning a character as you will find, so this Fox mask couldn’t have found a better home! "

It's pointed out how it takes someone special to survive in an enviroment like the one the LN Universe has to offer, which is an obvious nodd to Six, but I think it might also be referring to Fox herself. Now, let's take a look at the room before the one Fox's box is found. Look at the drawing on the wall.

A tall woman surrounded by seven children, who match the seven nomes you have to find in order to get access to this room. Following the reasoning we used before, we'll presume the tall woman is Fox, a.k.a one of the Ladies. Note how a part of her head is missing, almost as if it got ripped away.

We get in her actual room and would you look at that.

The seven nomes, chilling quietly in Fox's room. It's very clear that they're all prefectly comfortable with bring here, see as there's one of the nomes just swinging silently on their little swing. The pillow next to Fox's box has been ripped. The implication I get here is that our girl might have gotten a little too brave and... lost her head.

I don't know about you but this feels like a memorial to me, similar to the one other nomes made for their friends a few rooms ahead.

(This one. Also, the box there contains a Shadow Child figure. Definetely talking about this in a separate post.)

To sum Fox up: she was a cunning, brave, special girl, very similar to Six. Even though she most likely took on the role of the Lady, children seemed to trust her enough to be comfortable in her presence. However, something happened to her that led her to meet a very gruesome end. Possibly her successor killing her? Or maybe she was punished for being too kind to the children? Perhaps, a bit of both.

Scarecrow

There's not a lot to say about Scarecrow, if I have to be honest. Here's the official description of her mask:

" The Maw is filled with awful things hiding in the shadows and around every corner. Wear this twisted old Scarecrow Sack - it might not frighten away the monsters, but at least you won’t see them! "

Ok but let me tell you, the Scarecrow mask reminds me a lot of the sack the Hunter wears. You could say the two are similar in a way: the Hunter wears his sack to prevent himself from seeing the TVs, while Scarecrow wears hers to avoid looking at the monsters she had surrounded herself with. She most likely kept to herself most of the time, just like him.

Her room seems to suggest the same thing.

It's small, only illuminated by a small light and hidden away from the rest of the world; away from the horrors. Now, the ripped portrait of the Pretender behind her? No clue what that could mean, but see as the previous room contained a lot of portraits about the Pretender and her life? The two might be connected, or similar in some way.

Perhaps the Pretender is, deep down, just like Scarecrow was? Scared, terrified even, of the monsters around her and that's why she created her own fake little world where she can play with her ""friends"" without a care in the world? Her name IS the Pretender, after all.

Finally, the last summary: Scarecrow is a scared one, even after taking the role of the Lady she prefers to hide away into her own quarters, turning a blind eye to the horrors she (indirectly?) causes so she won't have to face them.

Ahh, this was a lot, but we got all the girls here! I really wanna hear you guys' thoughts on this one.

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justanotherteentitansblog · 3 years

Text

Bbrae Week Day 3 Into the Woods

There are giants in the sky! There are big tall terrible giants in the sky!

The changeling had his nose buried in the score as he attempted to read the music in front of him. ‘Funny’ Raven thought, ‘I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen him reading something other than a comic book’

When you’re way up high and you look below at the world you’ve left and the things you’ve known, little more than a glance is enough to show you just how small you are!

Raven hated admitting it to herself but dear god she loved his singing voice. He had this sexy tenor that was like honey to the ears. She could listen to him sing for hours and never get bored. Her favorite music was anything he sang, but she’d rather die than ever let him in on that.

When you’re way up and you’re on your own

In a world like none that you’ve ever known

Where the sky is lead and the earth is stone

You’re free to do whatever pleases you

Exploring things you’ve never dared

Cause you don’t care when suddenly there’s a big tall terrible giant at the door.

Stupid Robin and this stupid theater that’s closing down. If Robin hadn’t made such a huge deal out of trying to save the theater Raven would never be in this mess.

A big tall terrible lady giant sweeping the floor

Raven was just glad she could keep her cloak on for the role at least for most of the first act, she didn’t know if she was ready to face an audience without it.

And she gives you food and she gives you rest and she draws you close to her giant breast and you know things now that you never knew before

A Teen Titans production of the show, into the woods. Super. Raven didn’t even know she could sing up until auditions. She had never really tried before and once she did, she kind of blew everyone away, herself included.

Not til the sky

“Ok good work, you’ve obviously been practicing but next time hold out sky for a little longer, you’re cutting it short and you should be taking a big enough breath after before to be able to sustain that.” The music director, Dan, reminded Garfield.

“Thanks dude! I’ll work on it!”

“I know you will, that’s why I don’t hate you,” Dan nodded.

Raven liked Dan, he didn’t pussyfoot around.

Dan turned on the piano bench to face Raven motioning her to come forward with his fingers.

Nevermind, she actually hated Dan.

She sighed and slumped her shoulders trudging to the piano like a child being sent to timeout. She threw her hood over her face to hide the blush coloring her cheeks before Dan interrupted.

“Your character doesn’t have their hood on at this part of the show!”

‘Fuck you Dan’ Raven thought pulling her hood down.

“Ok top of measure 55, here is your starting note and…..go”

Careful the things you say

Children will listen

Careful the things you do children will see

Gar regarded Raven’s tense form. She was nervous, and she didn’t want to make a fool out of herself in front of an audience.

And Learn

Too bad she had probably the biggest role in the whole damn show, The witch.

Children may not obey

But children will listen

The role really was very fitting for her. Maybe not the rap about produce but everything else about the role was very...Raven.

Children will look to you for which way to turn

To learn what to be

If only someone could just show her how to relax into a character and just be natural in it, then it wouldn’t be so painful for her.

Careful before you say, Listen to me

Wait! He was someone! He could definitely show her how to get into character, and you know a little extra alone time with her wouldn’t be such a terrible thing now would it?

Children will listen….

Dan turned to Raven, “How do you think that went?”

“Well I was pitchy on measure 75 and I think I got off tempo towards the end, also my voice cracked at measu-”

Dan raised his hand to silence the girl, “No, you’re singing was perfect, the real issue is that you need to relax. You know what you’re doing so just let yourself do it without judgement.”

Raven glowered at the music director, “Easier said than done, Dan.”

After rehearsal, Raven gathered her things in her bag and was headed towards the stage door when a familiar voice called out.

“Hey, wait, Raven!”

“What do you want, Gar?”

“I think I know how to help you with your stage fright, that is if you want my help.”

Raven breathed a sigh of relief, “You don’t know how much I would love that, thank you”

Gar chuckled, “Well you’re gonna love the means of how we’re gonna do it even more.”

Raven was amused, “Oh?”

“Yep, I’m gonna show you how to meditate like an actor.”

Later in Raven’s room she had sat on her floor cross legged waiting for instructions from her teammate.

“Ok start with deep breaths in and out. In….Out….In”

Raven smiled despite herself, for him to give her instruction on deep breathing when she meditated everyday, it was almost laughable, but she complied.

He guided her through a simple grounding exercise and once she was fully grounded he began speaking again, “Now I want you to imagine you’re in a cottage in a forest…”

Ah, so this was a guided meditation, this she could handle easily.

“Now this is your cottage and your home, understand? Around your cottage is a huge garden, full of beautiful greenery. Can you see it?”

“Yes”

“Spend a few moments admiring your garden, truly soak it in.”

She did as instructed.

“Now I want you to imagine you hear a sound somewhere in the garden, I want you to move towards the sound.”

Raven found herself wandering a maze of vegetation in her mind’s eye until she found the source of the sound. A man in her garden. Not just any man but her neighbor stealing her vegetables! She tended that garden with every fiber of her being and the fact that someone she said hello to every morning was stealing from her, it felt violating. She was furious, she could’ve laid a spell on him right there! She could’ve turned him into stone, or a dog, or a chair…

Raven popped an eye open realizing what was happening, “Is this guided meditation based on the witch’s story in the show?”

“Yes, now get back into it!”

Raven shut her eyes and let her mind sink back into the story.

Her neighbor was begging for forgiveness but she knew it would happen again if she didn’t do something to keep him away. She had been lonely and barren all her life and having always wanted a child of her own, she was envious of the baker’s pregnant wife. She offered the baker a second chance at life for the baby growing in his wife’s womb. The baker reluctantly agreed before climbing over the garden wall, but as soon as he had left the sanctity of her walls...BANG FLASH, LIGHTNING CRASH! She watched as her hands shrunk and withered into the hands of an old crone. Raven ran to a small stream that ran through her garden to look at her reflection and much to her horror and dismay a 90 year old woman’s face stared back.

Raven sat up and screamed out of the meditation jolting Beast Boy backwards.

“Raven, are you ok?”

“Meditation is supposed to relax you Gar, not send you horrific images.”

“Yeah sure but...how do you feel about the baker now?”

Raven’s eyes glowed red at the mention of the name. “Oh I don’t care what it takes, I’m getting my face back and somehow making him pay for it in the process!”

Raven paused, confused at her own words, “What was that?”

“That was you finally being in character.” Gar smiled up at his friend.

“Ok but you said that you were going to help me with stage fright, not character development.”

“I did, Rae. Now when you go on stage, you’re not going to be thinking about the audience, you’re going to be thinking about what a rat bastard that baker is and how you’re going to make him pay. You’re going to think about how everyone sees you as the bad guy because you’re the witch when really you’re the victim in the show. You’re going to think about how much you love Rapunzel and you’re not ready for her to grow up yet. All the characters on stage, they’re not in front of an audience they’re just living their lives, it’s our jobs as the actors to give a venue to tell their stories.”

Raven was floored, since when did he get so...wise?

“That was a very impressive speech, Garfield.”

“Yeah well, you know, can’t be stupid all the time,” he shrugged.

“A slotted spoon can catch the potato..”

“See? Now you’re in the spirit of the show.”

Color flooded Raven’s face as she stood to meet her friend at the door.

“Thank you Gar, I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help.” she leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Gar’s emerald skin met red as he flushed at the contact, “Uh, wait. What? Did you just?”

“Best to take the moment present, as a present for the moment” she said, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him in for another kiss.

#bbraeweek21 #bbrae fanfiction #into the woods

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honeykept · 3 years

Text

untitled coda

submitted by anonymous

Summary: Dean lets himself be something more than his father’s son.

Pairing: mentioned Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen and Claire/Kaia

(Note: Two years post-canon. Most events post-15x18 ignored/retconned. Any inconsistencies are from that and/or me not having watched the last 5 seasons. TW: mentions of abuse)

—————-

Baby’s grille digs into Dean’s back, cold seeping through the denim of his jeans from the concrete he sits on. The creeper dolly and his tools lay abandoned for now. His head rests upon the chrome. He hasn’t touched Baby in weeks, walking to work in the early morning just before sunrise, even when the stormfront came through and nearly soaked him to the bone. He felt the shadow of his father in the driver’s seat and couldn’t stand the itch.

“I don’t know how you lived with yourself.”

Dean speaks quietly into the echo of the Bunker’s garage. He thinks of John, behind the wheel and tapping his fingers to a guitar solo. He hates asking questions to the open air, but John had rarely given him the respect of an honest answer even in arms’ reach.

“Sam knows, about the kind of shit you put me through. Got sick of protecting your sorry ass.”

Dean ducks his head, forty-three and still wary of his father’s hand, and his belt, and the butt of his pistol with an empty chamber but a loaded magazine. The skin on the back of his neck flushes hot with anger and shame. The old man is dead and he’s still waiting for retaliation.

He doesn’t apologize. Dean lifts his head and stares at the ceiling, eyes burning and throat tight from all the words he never voiced clogging his chest. Damn near two years of therapy got him to this point, where the words still don’t come easy but he can wrench them out of his head when he needs to. He needs to now, like he needs to when he sits in that office with Sam and they process, like he needs to when it’s just him and his psychologist and over eighty years worth of pain.

Most of the time, when it’s him and Sam, sixty minutes per week isn’t enough. Sam hops in the car (or recently, sits next to him on the curb), and they talk. For a while it was mostly screaming, arguing, until it wasn’t. Then it became letting horrors out of their hearts, commiserating, comforting. Hurting and healing all at once. Letting Sam be someone other than his baby brother and being someone other than his protector.

There’s a lot he’s still working up the nerve to tell. Same with Sam, he sees it when the topic strays to the Cage. But he’d told his little brother about the first time their father struck him, and the look on Sam’s face shook him. The guilt in Sam’s voice, for not knowing (“You had enough shit to deal with, Sam, like hell I was gonna make you live with that.”), for not doing more to help (“I had to protect you, not the other way around.”) is what made it all sink in.

“He actually apologized to me, you know that?” Dean smiles, bitter. “For what you did to me.”

Dean tenses.

“I hate you. You had the damn gall to make me responsible for that kid’s happiness and you set me up to fail.”

Dean swallows to ease the tension in his throat.

“I could forgive Mom.” Dean’s voice cracks now, and he clenches his jaw against it, vision swimming in unshed tears. “She didn’t get to stick around to fix her mistakes but you- you looked at us every fucking day and-” He stops. Breathes. Dean lets the tears fall angry and hot. “I was supposed to be your son, not your fucking weapon.”

In, one, two, three, four. Out, five, six, seven, eight.

“I will never forgive you. I…” Dean huffs a sad laugh. “I didn’t even think there was anything to forgive for a long time. A long time. I made so many fucking excuses for you. I drove your car. Wore your jacket, tried to be you. And none of it helped. ‘Cause Bobby was right. You were a fucking coward.”

Dean lets out a breath and feels his chest loosen with it.

“You talked a big game about family and-and blood but where were you when I needed you?” He seethes, and this is how it goes. He’s spent so long pushing down the vitriol, the hurt, that he’s gotta work up to the anger. Let it simmer in his heart and head before he really feels it, because John never let him. Had him backpedaling before he could even get started. But he’s feeling it now. “Where were you when Sam needed you? If it wasn’t for me he would’ve been alone! I was alone!” Dean sniffs, breath shuddering. “And I fucked up. So much. But who was around to teach me any better, 'cause you damn sure didn’t.”

His own voice echoes at him, and Dean quiets.

“I thought I could understand you, y'know, desperate times and all that shit. But I have my own family now.”

He remembers Cas, the tears in his eyes as he confessed to something Dean dreamed of but never dared to hope for. I love you.

He remembers sitting in catatonia the entire night after he was taken, after he died to save him. Remembers the moments in between when the lucidity broke through and he sobbed, wrecked. Mourning and in love and regretting.

He remembers dragging Cas out of the Empty with his bare hands, watching his grace twine with the tendrils of blackness as the opening closed behind them for good.

He remembers pressing close to Cas, hidden away in a dark corner of the library, when he said, I’m yours, Cas. If you’ll stay then I’m yours.

He thinks of Jack, five years old now and at that age, Dean didn’t speak. He curled around Sam in his crib at night, his little brother’s shield before he knew how much weight the title really carried. Jack is sweet, more than anything, musing about the life around him and people and wanting to preserve the beauty in it, be apart of that beauty if he could. Dean thinks he takes after Cas in that, and the thought brings a small smile to his face.

He thinks of Claire, tough and smart and enjoying the magic of first love with Kaia. How the first thing she does is poke fun at him when she visits before he wraps her in a hug (and returns the favor). How proud he is that though she’s seen so much, faced so much for her age, that she’s already so much better than Dean had been at that age.

He thinks of Sam and Eileen, such perfect complements to each other. He can trust Eileen to be there for Sam when he can’t, be his foundation. Sam’s come into his own, a leader in the hunting community now, a scholar of its history. Eileen’s held him down, a strong woman and a hell of a hunter and his partner in every way. They’ve worked through so much of their own pain together and it’s almost comical how happy they are in each other’s presence. Dean rests easy knowing he can let Sam live life without his constant, watchful eye.

“I ain’t perfect. Hell, understatement of the year. But I try. Every day. 'Cause they don’t deserve any of my shit. They gave me so many chances already.”

And this is where Dean pauses, braces and stops himself from thinking of all the ways he’s failed already. All the ways he’s hurt them. Everything he has to fix.

“I love them so much.” Dean breathes those words, because the force of it always hits him hard. He feels it in every atom of his being. “More than you ever loved me. And I’ll spend all the time I got left showing it. 'Cause if it’s the last goddamn thing I do, I’ll be a better man than you.”

#IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO UPLOAD THIS ANON SDFNJSDF #it's so good!!!#submitted to me #bookshelf #spn #gen #fanfic #submission

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loserclubowergang · 3 years

Text

It Fandom Week July 15- Moral Ambiguity

@itfandomweek

Title: My truth and your truth

Sumary: “I will not testify for Henry Bowers to get out of a sanitarium, he deserves to be there”

“Jupiter Asylum is torture chamber not a sanatorium."

Characters: Henry Bower(mention), Connor Bowers, Richie Totzier

Warning: f-slur, mentions of abuse, homophobia, death of a character

One-shot / Moodboard

Richie had been a comedian for 4 years now and he slowly began to feel that his career was growing, he was not famous but every day he felt that he was making a name among comedians. Being on stage made him feel alive.

And while his professional life was going well, his personal life felt empty, it wasn't that he didn't have friends, he did, but his friendships felt false in some way, as if he couldn't really connect with them. Richie, although he didn’t remember them, unconsciously seeks a bond like the one he had with the losers' club, a bond that was in fact impossible to recreate outside of Derry.

And every now and then he thought not being a comedian and living in Derry would have been worth it if he could still have friends. Real friends

But those were silly ramblings. Because even more than having friends his biggest problem was not that, no, when Richie dared to be honest with himself could he accept he never allowed himself to connect with anyone because he did not accept something important about himself.

And that's why he was here, he had come for the last 3 months to this place not daring to do anything more than order a drink at the bar. Sitting at the bar he looked at the rest of people on the dance floor, people dancing, kissing and having fun as if the world outside didn’t hate them .Richie took another sip from his glass while a man with curly blond hair was sat next to him, Richie thought to speak to him but did not put his courage together

"My name is Connor"

Richie looked at him in surprise

"Richie"

"Nice name, can I buy you a drink?”

Richie couldn't help but smile, this was unreal to him, a boy was flirting with him in a gay bar and he felt good, for the first time in a long time things felt in their place.

Connor was a lawyer , had his same age, was passionate about video games and comics and was the first person since he left Derry with Richie felt he had been able to connect, time passed quickly and before noticing were outside the Pub.

“You have something to do? Connor smiled

“Not really" Richie smiled

"Would you like to go to my apartment?"

"Yes, I would like to” Richie felt brave and confident for once as he followed Connor to his apartment.

The night had a happy ending, the real problems began the next morning.

Richie opened his eyes and realized that the night before had really happened, he couldn't help but smile as he looked at Connor lying next to him, Richie got up and looked at the room Connor's room , if it weren't for the bed, the room would look like an investigation office, there was a desk full of papers and photos, from his work, Richie supposed, and hanging in front of the desk a cork board, without the glasses he couldn't quite discern what the papers or the photos on the board were, but getting a little closer Betty Ripsom's missing poster became clear, then George Denbrough and the rest of the missing children in the summer of 88, he did not know what the rest of the documents were, but among all the papers he finally distinguished a different photo , the photo of Henry Bowers being arrested.

Richie felt sick.

A sound behind him made him turn around, Connor had risen from the bed and was looking at him with a smile.

Richie looked in horror at the man in front of him. He felt he had no voice, no courage to ask.

“What is your name?”

He smiled.

“Connor Bowers at your service.”

He had a flirty look that Richie would have love if he did not feel that his head was spinning, and at any time he would end up throwing up

“Bowers, as in?”

Connor then noticed what Richie had been watching, Connors smiles disappeared, he look at him with bitterness, understanding what just happened.

“Yes, like Henry Bowers, he is my cousin.”

Richie saw everything black and could barely think "well at least I didn't throw up" as he passed out.

Richie opened his eyes slowly, his gaze was blurry but he knew it was from the lack of glasses, Connor was on the floor next to him, his blue eyes looking at him with concern.

“Are you good?”

“Yes , I forgot to put my glasses on in the morning and that causes me vertigo, don't worry.”

Connor looked at him incredulously once Richie was composed enough to sit on the floor noticed that Connor had the gaze on his cork board , time lines time of the summer when everything happened, roles of prosecutors, claims against Jupiter Hill , petitions for a new trial and another pile of papers that had not achieved anything, they were years of working on something that seemed to not get anywhere, every day of work that did not achieve anything he considered himself to stop trying but Connor knew he could not , Henry was his only living family and even more important it was an injustice what his cousin had experienced.

Connor helped Richie to sit on the bed where they had slept and bit his lip, maybe it was not appropriate to ask but his case had been stalled for months and maybe he could help him .

"So you're from Derry?"

Richie still felt sick , that summefr had turned his head very abruptly, the memories were more neat in some way but the were too bizarre to be true, there wasn’t a monster in the sewers of Derry, they were only children’s fantasies, right? It had to be, the only monster in Derry was indeed Henry Bowers, and he had just slept with his cousin, Richie felt like he was going to throw up but forced himself not to.

"Yes, I lived there until I was 17"

"So you were there the summer of 88" Connor knew he was pushing his luck, the people of Derry hated talking about that summer, so many people died that summer that it was almost impossible not having lost someone close in the process. Just knowing his last name, the Derry people wanted to kill him, but Richie didn't seem like that kind of person.

"Yes, I was." Richie went away and Connor looked blurry without his glasses but still her mind recognized or as the guy in Arcade , Richie recalled that afternoon that feeling of being out of place had begun for him, he no longer wanted to be here , all this brought back bad memories, memories of things that should not have happened . The Neibolt house, the clown, Eddie breaking his arm.

God, Eddie, how he was able to forget Eddie?

"If you were there, you could answer a few quick questions?"

Richie wanted to shout no and get out of there, get out as far as possible and not think of Derry, or Henry Bowers, or the summer of '88, but the blurred images of Eddie were becoming clearer in his memories and he felt that if he left the department he would forget him again and he did not want that, he wanted to remember Eddie

"I think so."

Connor smiled, it seemed to fill him with hope that he could do this, Connor began to ask questions of Derry, people, places and events that Richie thought were forgotten but were really only hidden in his memory, for the first time in many years Richie remembered the Losers club, he remembered Stan's face and Bill's stuttering voice, and he clearly remembered Eddie and everything he'd ever felt for him.

And along with those memories of Eddie, the feelings of guilt and shame, feelings that he had unknowingly carried him all his life, feelings that ended up consuming him the day that the man asking him questions in front of him had unnecessarily and cruelly rejected him.

The humiliation of having Henry Bowers yell at him that he was a fag, and the fear that everyone believed it, because it was true.

The shame, fear and guilt that day had gone from being a brief feeling every time he wished to kiss Eddie to becoming a weight that would hold him back the rest of his life.

Connor's voice pulled him out of the storm of memories that was his mind.

“Can you testify in court?”

Connor looked at him hopefully, Richie wanted to throw up

"No."

"Why?"

“I will not testify for Henry Bowers to get out of a sanitarium, he deserves to be there”

“Jupiter Asylum is torture chamber not a sanatorium."

“That is not my fault.”

“You can’t be so apathetic with the suffering of people.”

“I can be apathetic with the suffering of my abuser."

There was a horrible silence between the two, Richie had anger in his eyes, and Connor looked at him sadly.

"I'm very sorry for whatever Henry did to hurt you, but his penance is not equivalent to his crime."

Jupiter Hill was a torture room, in addition to the lack of real psychiatric and medical treatment, the nurses seemed to have fun electrocuting patients as pseudo therapy or leaving them sedated for days, patients in Jupiter Hill were constantly physical and verbal assaults and that was just the abuse that they let see with a simple glance. Of course, all this was ignored by the people since the inmates at Jupiter Hill were criminals before they were people and they did not deserve a human treatment, let's not even mention appropriate help to deal with their mental illnesses.

Seeing Henry terrified of the guards and nurses on Jupiter Hill was the most painful thing that Connor was forced to see, it made him see that Henry had never been able to escape from the abuses and terrors that he had lived through his childhood.

"You don't know how difficult it has been for me to forget what your cousin put me through, I don't have a reason to help him”

Richie looked at him with disdain, if Henry was having a bad time, good, he deserved it. and if the justice system did his job badly and the mental hospitals were torture chamber , it was a shame but it was not his problem.

Connor watched him with hate, but what he really felt was tired, he was so fucking tired, tired and sad to have this discussion, to listen to one person after another talking about Henry like a monster, the people of Derry always talked about him as if they had not allowed a child to live for years with someone as aggressive and cruel as Oscar Bowers , as if Henry had never talked about seeing shadows and hearing strange noises , they spoke as if there was no way to stop Henry from getting worse every day

“Henry was 14 , he was a kid. And they made him carry all the adult mistakes. "

Richie already knew that , Henry had been a scapegoat for the incompetence of the Derry police, and it was difficult to look back, to think about the children they were, it was difficult to remember Henry as a child and not as his bully, it was difficult because the adult in him knew it was the right thing to do but the child who was still hurt and terrified did not care what was right because Henry did not deserve his forgiveness after what he had put him through

“Yes, you are right, we were children and it is not fair but it’s not my problem and I am not going to help him."

Connor looked at him with disbelieve.

“Do you really want to be that kind of adult? The one who ignores that something bad is happening and washes his hands. "

Richie felt a stroke of guilt because he was exactly the kind of grown-up to fill the streets of Derry, the kind of grown-up who would let the life of a 14-year-old become hell and at the same time leave behind a child killer loose , because it seemed more comfortable than doing the right thing.

"No, is not the kind of adult I want to be, but sadly is the person I am, and I am not proud but I am not going to help him, because honestly it makes me a little happy that he is having a bad time "

Connor, if he had been the same boy from long ago, would have broken his nose for his cynicism, but he bit his lip and swallowed his anger.

"Get out of my house."

"As you like."

Richie took his things and left the place, the further he went , the experience became more surreal, almost as if he had dreamed it.

Over the weeks go back Richie have more difficult to remember what had happened at Connors house until just one day he did not remember at all and all memories of Derry would become buried imagines again and Richie did not return to think about Connor or Henry Bowers until he stuck an ax in Henrys head in order to save Mike and for a second all the memories of that day came back, looking at the corpse of Henry Bowers he feel the worst remorse he had ever experienced in his life, in part because if he had helped Connor Henry might not be here, but especially because Connor would never know what had happened to his cousin, the remorse was overwhelming , Richie took a breath and forced himself not to cry, he again felt sick like that day at Connor's house, even worse, this time he couldn't help throwing up.

Who knows , maybe if he had helped Henry, they would have been able to escape the control of It, maybe the good actions have their reward, because seeing Henry's corpse and seeing himself having to face the damn clown again, he realized that when you washed your hands and ignored the problem it doesn't solve a shit.

#henry bowers #connor bowers #richie totzier #itfandomweek #it fandom week

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