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redstarwriting · 11 months

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the clash | vii. i wanna be sedated

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, you(?) hating hobie, anxious hobie, panic attacks, mentions of death, threat of main character death, giving blood, negative self-talk, ANGST

a/n: another short one, but that’s because it’s about to get intense. there’s a possibility the series may be ending within the next two chapters, but we shall see what happens! please enjoy this one, and i promise it won’t be all angst the rest of the time lmao there will be a pay off, next chapter should be LONG and give a smidge of happiness

previous chapter: vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)

now reading: vii. i wanna be sedated

next chapter: viii. love you to death

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Hobie stares at Miguel. He can see his lips moving, but he can’t hear what he’s saying. All he can hear is his heartbeat and the blood rushing to his head. Kill? This other version of him was meant to kill you. Does that mean he’s going to kill you now that he killed him? No. No that can’t happen. He won’t let it happen.

“HOBIE!”

Hobie realizes he’s gripping the desk in front of him. His eyes are wide, and his heart is beating faster than he has ever felt it beat before. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, swallowing nothing. His throat is dry. Miguel hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder. “Hobie, can you hear me?” He nods, staring ahead of him at his hands. “I think I might know what you’re thinking. You won’t kill them. You aren’t going to take the place of Hobart on their world,” he assures him, and Hobie tries to control his shaky breathing. “You have to calm down,” Miguel says in probably the gentlest voice Hobie has ever heard from him. He forgets he’s a dad sometimes. And that he also has gone through some shit. He nods again, trying to take in what Miguel just said. He accidentally snaps two pieces off the desk with how hard he’s gripping it. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “You were trainin’ ‘em to stop him.”

Miguel nods. “I was.”

“Does that mean I can still save ‘em?” Hobie looks at him, and Miguel sighs. “Maybe… but–”

“But what?” Hobie frantically asks, and Miguel frowns. “The Venom symbiote was supposed to take over as the Spider-Person for their world as Hobie Brown… if we defeat Venom…”

“Please don’t tell me…” Hobie whispers, and Miguel nods. “There is a 100% chance their world will collapse. It’s the final canon even in (Y/n)’s story.”

“No…” Hobie shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, there has to be a way! We can do somethin’!”

“Hobie…” Miguel starts, but Hobie turns his head towards him, suddenly angry. Ready to fight. “And you were just gonna let this bloody shit happen?! You care so fuckin’ much about the fuckin’ canon that–”

“HOBIE. No! I wasn’t going to let it happen. Why do you think I put so much time and effort into helping them?! I’ve been trying to fix it!” Miguel yells, “I know you might find it hard to believe but I’m not a fan of an evil symbiote taking over the world of someone I’ve been mentoring for the past month.” Hobie looks down again. “What if they just… stayed with me? In my world?” “Hobie, if their world disappears, they disappear,” Miguel explains and Hobie shakes his head. “No. Find out a way to make ‘em stay! You can do that! You have tech and all the shit to do it! We can save ‘em!” Hobie is screaming at this point, and Miguel stares at him for a moment. He sighs, rubbing his face, distressed. “There… might actually be a way,” he says. Hobie nearly falls to his knees. “How?”

“I’ve been developing something to change the genetic code of someone, making them appear like they belong in another universe. My thought process behind it is if Miles did it with the spider from Earth-42, we can do it here as well,” he explains, typing something into his computer. Hobie watches the screens. He reads everything happening in front of him, but it’s a little hard at this particular moment as it feels like everything is kind of crashing down around him. He is able to get some basic information on how Miguel would do this, though. “We’d just need somethin’ from my world, then?” he asks, and Miguel nods. “Yes… but unfortunately the process can be… painful.”

“How painful?” Hobie asks, and Miguel glances at him. “Are you willing to do anything to save them?”

“Yes!” Hobie says, and Miguel nods. “We tested it on inanimate objects until we were sure it would work, then we tested it on animals. And while it always turns out fine in the end… the process is difficult to watch. Their molecules will be rearranged and changed, tearing them apart and piecing them back together. Can you sit by and watch that happen to them?” Miguel asks, and Hobie gulps. “I can try…”

Miguel holds up a smaller device, showing it to Hobie. “What you do is you take anything from your universe, inanimate, and put it in here. I’ll also need a blood sample from you.” Hobie then notices that he’s still gripping the pieces of the desk in his hands. He opens his hands, and the remains of the desk fall out of them and onto the floor. Miguel hands the device over, and Hobie holds it, tossing it back and forth in his hands. “What do I do with this?” “I just told you,” Miguel says, glancing at him. Hobie stares at the little device in his hands. Right. He did just tell him. He hasn’t felt this scatterbrained in a long time. He takes off one of his pins from his vest, sticking it inside. It whirs and shuts tightly. Miguel takes it back from him and nods. “This should work perfectly. Now, I need some blood from you. We’ll perform a blood transfusion with the blood from your world to stabilize them as the genetic splicing takes place, luckily with the technology we have here on Earth-2099, the transfusion should take no longer than 3 minutes,” Miguel explains, as he begins walking toward his lab. Hobie follows him, quieter than he’s ever been in his entire life. Miguel glances back at him. “Are you okay to give some blood?”

“Yeah. Should be nothin’,” he mumbles and Miguel nods.

Miguel motions him to sit in a chair so he could get some blood from him. He sits. “You know, this is the first time you’ve done what I’ve said without fighting me on it,” Miguel says as machines start up, preparing Hobie’s arm for blood extraction. Hobie scoffs. “Come off it, mate,” he mumbles and Miguel shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

“I’m still Spider-Man. I can be responsible or whatever,” Hobie says as the machine takes some of his blood. “Mhm. Apparently, you can,” Miguel says, and he looks at him. “So, you like them, huh?”

“What?”

“(Y/n)? You actually ended up liking them?” Miguel asks again, and Hobie shrugs one shoulder slightly. “Guess so,” Hobie mumbles, and Miguel shakes his head. “The blood extraction should be done soon. How are you feeling?”

“Bloody brilliant,” he mumbles, and then sees Miguel’s face. “Buck up, bloke. I’m fine,” he answers and Miguel nods. “I’ll get everything ready. Bring them here, and we’ll figure out the rest. If it’s the worst case scenario, let me know. I’ll send back-up.”

Hobie stands, giving Miguel a nod, and walks out of the lab. The blood extraction did make him a little light-headed, but he doesn’t have the time to sit around and wait to feel better. He’s lost in his thoughts. He let his anger get the best of him, and in doing so, put you in danger. That was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to protect you and getting that asshole out of the way was the best way to do it. He thought it was the best way, at least. But it turns out that that asshole was him. And now you’re in even more danger than you were before. If that symbiote bonds with you… He doesn’t wanna think about it. Symbiotes can fuck up a host. He’s seen it happen. He doesn’t want you to have to go through any of that. And to top it all off, Miguel was saying how dangerous this symbiote is. Does that mean if it bonds with you, it’ll kill you? And is it like his symbiotes where noises drive it crazy? How did he fuck up this bad?

He's torn out of his thoughts by a familiar voice. “Hobie! Hey!” Gwen yells, landing next to him. “Alright?”

“I’m good. You should have seen it, Miles, Pav, and I took down Doc Ock after he escaped from prison, it was crazy. We could have used you and (Y/n),” she starts rambling off and he just listens. “Sounds great,” he mumbles, and she raises an eyebrow at him. “You okay? You seem a little… down.”

“’m fine,” he mumbles, and she doesn’t believe him, but she knows he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. Miles and Pavitr appear shortly after, talking to each other about how they did a move together that was ‘so cool!’ and how they need to show Hobie it as soon as they can. “Right, great talkin’ to you all, but I have to go visit (Y/n),” Hobie says, fiddling with his watch to open a portal to your world. “Oh, are you guys on speaking terms again? About damn time,” Miles says, and Pav leaps up and down with a little clap. “Have the two of you accepted your feelings for each other yet?” Pav asks, and Hobie just glances at him, not saying anything. Usually, he would tell him to piss off. But he’s not about to do that when he did realize his feelings for you. So he just stays quiet.

The three of them look at each other with wide eyes as Hobie steps through the portal and into your world without a word.

As soon as he’s back, the air feels a little… different. Maybe it’s just him coming to terms with what he’s done, though. He’s unsure how much time has passed since he left, but a quick glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of your room tells him he’s been gone about three hours or so. He hears a soft meow and looks to see Shadow peeking out from behind a small crack between the wall and your fridge. “Hey, Shadow,” he says, crouching down and holding his hand out. Shadow cautiously approaches him, sniffing his fingers before walking into his hand. He pets him and looks around. “(Y/n)!” he calls your name but gets no response. Strange.

He hears another meow and looks down at Shadow who is staring at your balcony doors. The curtains have been pulled over them, but he can see that one is open from the wind blowing the curtain inside. He sees the silhouette of someone on your balcony, but if it was you, you would have been saying something to him by now.

He gets a bad feeling.

He slowly stands, and Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr end up coming through the portal. “Shh,” Hobie says, holding up his hand and pulling his mask over his face. The three of them glance at each other as they realize something is wrong, too. Hobie slowly walks toward your balcony doors, pushing the curtain out of the way and seeing your form facing out towards the city. You seem to be in your suit, as you’re shrouded in black from head to toe. But it looks like a new suit. Pav, Miles, and Gwen follow him, on edge the whole time. He stares at you for a moment, but you stay still.

“(Y/n)?” he says your name, and he sees your head tilt slightly, signifying you heard him. “Is that… you…?” he asks. You turn slowly. His eyes widen and his heart drops. He was too late. He sees a toothy grin spread across what was supposed to be your mask and clenches his fists as he hears Venom laugh. “(Y/n) can’t come to the phone right now,” Venom says, their otherworldly voice causing the four spiders to prepare for the worst. “But I would like to thank you, Hobie Brown, for freeing me of my constraints.”

Hobie has a flashback to his fight with himself. “The glass…” he mutters, and Venom lets out a laugh. He feels the world close in on him. His hands shake. He was too late. You were already taken over by Venom. As if reading his thoughts, Venom smiles at him, muttering the words that make his heart stop.

“You led me to them.”

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#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #hobie #spiderpunk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

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gatorbites-imagines · 6 months

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Kinktober day 16

Jason Todd + leather or Latex

I had like, no ideas what to do with this prompt ngl, so I just kinda went with whatever came to me when writing.

Crime lord Red Hood has always had a special place in my heart

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Working for The Red Hood wasn’t too bad, especially compared to the other rogues you’d had to work for in the past. With Hood you didn’t have to fear suddenly being shot because Two-face suddenly felt like it, or being eaten by whatever plants Ivy had conjured up, or answering whatever riddles the Riddler came up with that day.

Best part was probably the uniform though. All rogues put their people in specific clothes. For the joker it was clown masks and all that junk, Riddler wanted you in stuff with question mark print, penguin wanted you well dressed in suit and tie, the list went on. For Hood just wearing red seemed to be enough. Most seemed to just resort to wearing a red hoodie under their jacket, and that was enough.

Interestingly enough, working for Hood also came with some benefits, like being allowed to keep stuff from different conflicts as long as it didn’t cause issues for Hood. That was where you found your first leather, some rich guy from Metropolis tried to set up in Gotham and was quickly dealt with. If Gotham hated anyone more than each other, it was outsiders trying to barge in and make a name for themselves.

The guy had been wearing a sturdy but not too flashy leather jacket, so after checking the pockets and for bullet holes and seeing it in one piece, you tucked it over your arm and brought it home. You had to cut the tags out and changed the inner fabric to something cheaper, and most importantly, into something red, but the quality was no lie.

You realized you might have had a thing for Leather one night when you had needed to go out for some small run for Hood, and you’d been too tired and lazy to put on a shirt. You ended up going out in a pair of low waisted denim pants, some well worn boots, and your jacket. No one batted an eye, at all, seeing a shirtless guy was far from the weirdest shit in Gotham, but the feel of leather on your skin seemed to have lit something inside you.

After that you might have subconsciously started looking for the stuff whenever you went on raids or into fights for Hood and his territory. Who cared if you stole some hotshot from star cities leather west and hat, or that guy from Texas whose black leather boots you stole right off his feet. You didn’t touch the pants though, even though you really really wanted too, you just didn’t trust them not to be contaminated by all kinds of junk.

You honestly thought you hid it pretty well, your draw to leather that is. Everyone had their thing, and you always wearing your jacket and boots was just something you did. If you went home to get dressed all the way down to just your jacket and boots though to jerk off was another thing entirely.

But it seemed your draw to the last targets pants hadn’t gone fully unnoticed by your boss. Imagine your surprise when he shoved a package into your arms one night and told you to only check it when you got home, the modulator of his helmet making him seem way more serious than he probably was.

You wouldn’t say you were outright friends with Hood, no one could really be friends with their boss in the criminal world, but you cracked jokes with the guy and even got him to laugh on the regular. You patched him up when he needed it, and he dragged you to Leslie’s clinic when you got knocked around a bit too hard, which happened more than you liked to admit.

When you got home you had almost assumed that the package would hold weapons or maybe even drugs, even though Hood didn’t personally deal the stuff. But instead, you found what you immediately noticed was leather, a card placed on top of the neatly folded leather. The letter was in Hoods writing, and you felt your face heat up a tad at the words on the page.

“Next time just let me buy it for you instead of stealing it off bodies” it said, and when you unfolded the leather, you felt your insides flutter. It was pants, they seemed even better quality than the ones you had been eying the night before. But it wasn’t just pants, there was a newer jacket, it was brown and heavy and was very well worn, and when you held it out in front of you, you could see it was one of Hoods own jackets.

You could feel blood running downwards, leaving you fumbling with your clothes as you got undressed, feeling almost desperate to pull the pants up your legs and hips. They were tight, but not too tight, and there was no question about the quality. Your original jacket fell to the ground with a heavy thud, your fingers quickly grabbing the heavy well-loved leather of the brown jacket and pulling it on, a shaky breath leaving you as the smell that was so clearly Hood filled your senses.

It smelled like leather, gun oil, the cigarettes he smoked when he was annoyed or on edge, and something undeniably Hood, and it had you tenting your new pants. Or tenting as well as one could in leather, which meant it was more a visible bulge running down the inside of your thigh. It had felt so good on your skin that you had found yourself grinding against your hand on your couch like some inexperienced fool. Your back had arched off the couch as you stained the inside of your pants, the leather growing slick against you as you groaned.

It was only later when cleaning the leather that you noticed the writing in the waistband, near the back so it would sit near the bottom of your spine. “Red Hood” it said, like some kind of statement of ownership, and you had shivered and exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over your face to dispel the thoughts it awoke in your body.

Next time you saw Hood you had worn the pants, but the jacket was left at home. The worn jacket didn’t go well with the newer shinier leather of the pants, so it was your normal jacket and boots, which had some of your friends joke a bit about you being some kind of leather daddy because of your interest in the stuff. You had let the jokes run off your back, joking along every now and then.

You hadn’t even noticed Hood being there until he had appeared behind you, his gloved hand grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze. Youd almost snapped around and decked him, assuming it was someone else, that was until you heard his modulated voice. “You’re wearing my gift. You like it?” he purred obviously enough that you could hear it even through the voice changer.

You could feel your skin growing clammy as you gave a small nod, not even daring to look at hood as he pressed his crotch against your back, his erection obvious even through all your shared layers. “Good, you look so hot in it” he rumbled, giving your thighs an extra squeeze before he stepped back and wandered off, leaving you unsteady on your feet as you tried to force the obvious hard shape in your pants away, for once cursing how tight they were.

It continued on this way for a while, Hood leaving you presents, and you would wear them around his headquarters. It was never expensive or high quality enough for anyone to target you, but Hood seemed to enjoy it very much. It felt almost like having a sugar daddy or some kind, but he had never demanded much sugar, only grabbing your ass at times, or rubbing his hands up and down your torso that time you’d worn a leather shirt under your jacket.

He was a tease, and you could hear the shit eating grin through his helmet as you ground against his thick thigh one day. You felt so wound up from his lingering touches that you had found yourself in his office one day, or what you guys called his office anyways. Maybe you wanted a fight of some kind, you weren’t sure, but one thing led to another, and you pinned up against the wall, his thigh between your own.

And now you were grinding against his thigh like some kind of pervert, your fingers digging into the worn leather of his jacket as you gasped into his shoulder. You didn’t even notice as he pulled off his gloves or spat on his fingers, it was only when one of his hands was shoved down the back of your leather pants and between your cheeks that you realised. A groan left you as he rubbed the pad of his finger against your pucker, his voice cocky as he asked if this was what you wanted.

You tried to glare at him, but it only seemed to fuel him more as Hood pushed his finger inside, letting you adjust before he started moving to the best of his ability, your tight pants not leaving much room to move his wrist. The stimulation was driving you crazy, the tight leather of your pants doing nothing to lessen the experience as you ground forwards into his thigh, before you pushed back onto his hand.

Running your hands down his torso and up his shirt, you could keep the moan from leaving you as you felt something too smooth and slick to be leather. It was Latex, he was wearing a latex shirt under everything else, maybe it was even a full body thing as it continued as you thumbed at the waistband of his pants.

Your exploring just seemed to fuel him more as Hood added not just a second but a third finger at the same time, letting you just barely adjust to the stretch before he started moving his hand once more, causing you to grind harder against his thigh.

It was impossible to fight back the orgasm that rocked through you, thoroughly slicking up the crotch area of your leather pants as there was no fabric to soak it up, letting it splatter against your thighs and lower body. You could feel yourself twitch a bit as Hood removed his fingers, instead grabbing onto your hips and lifting you up, making your legs wrap around his waist.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to ask what he was up too as he walked backwards, plopping down on his chair with you in his lap, sighing softly as he started rubbing his hands up your torso, flicking your chest through the leather shirt you had chosen to wear. “You alright baby?” he asked, voice warm and caring, leaving you feeling all types of mushy.

You just scoffed and leaned forwards, resting against his broad shoulders and coiling your arms around him. Hood rubbed your back for a while before rolling his chair close to his desk, the taping of keys letting you know he was working on one thing or the other. In the end you found yourself with both your hands up his shirt, rubbing at his latex covered torso as you rocked lazily against his thigh, no hurry in your movements as you knew you had all night, and it would happen soon if the twitching bulge between Hoods thighs meant anything.

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nolita-fairytale · 9 months

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burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter eleven

summary: you receive bad news, but luca is there for you. and it seems like he's intent on continuing to be there for you.

warnings: angst, grief, death, vomiting, fluff, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 3.3k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist (specifically 'how to mend a broken heart' - al green & 'love' - kendrick lamar; another very will poulter-coded choice)

a/n: pov: it's me warning you that there is in fact angst but trust, babes. trust. after the trauma of meeting donna b in season 2, i wanted to explore characters who had positive relationships with their mothers. so if you have not picked up on it yet, this story is also about mothers **cries because it's too damn sweet. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part ten | masterlist | part twelve

Astrid: Hey give me a call when you’re up.

I don’t want to worry you, but we need to talk.

Your fingers hurriedly move to open up the multiple missed notifications that you have from her, holding the phone up to your ear so that you can listen to her voicemail next.

“Hey… I know you’re probably still asleep right now,” you hear, her voice somber, as you listen to Astrid’s voicemail, left for you at three in the morning. “And I know that you’ve got your do not disturb on. But I really need to talk. Call me when you’re up.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as your mind races with fears over what this could be about, and as your eyes scroll through the other missed notifications, you see something that stops you in your tracks:

1 Missed Call from Joe

And it all suddenly feels real, a sense of dread fills your throat, and you can only imagine that it must be an emergency if both Astrid and Joe have called. Your mind races. It can’t be about Joe – if he called too, right?

The severity of the situation forces you to sit up straight as you steal a glance Luca’s way. You’re grateful that he’s such a heavy sleeper as you peel the covers back, tiptoeing out into the living room so that you don’t wake Luca. Your fingers shake as they hover over Astrid’s name, before tapping down on the screen so that you can give her a call back.

It only rings twice before Astrid answers, a tiredness in the way her voice sounds, as if she hasn’t slept all night.

“Hey, Astrid. What’s going on?” you ask, a panic that colors your voice as you wait for her reply.

The anticipation builds in every moment of silence she leaves between the two of you.

“It’s mum. Ehm…” she trails off, her voice breaking.

No.

It’s as if your worst nightmare is coming true – like no matter how many times you’ve rehearsed this scenario in your head, prepared for it, braced for it, nothing softens the blow of the words that Astrid utters.

“She’s gone. She passed. Early this morning,” Astrid finally says, a sob following. “We’re still at the hospital right now.”

As Astrid begins to cry, you let her, even though you feel like you can’t breathe. Through her tears, she tries her best to explain what happened and you can feel yourself going numb as you listen. You can barely process what she’s saying as the words wash over you, a deep pain building in your belly with each detail she shares: that mum hadn’t been feeling well late last night, that she had a fever of 104 F and that’s when they knew she had to be taken to the hospital, that she passed a few hours later.

It was sudden.

It was quick.

And now, Astrid’s whole world – your whole world, and Joe’s – has changed forever.

All you can do is attempt to breathe, to listen, and try your best not to drop your phone as your hands tremble.

You can feel it, a sickening feeling that wells up from your belly and into your throat as you croak out:

“Astrid, I’m so sorry.”

“After everything we’ve been through, all the rounds of chemo… I just can’t believe that overnight she’s gone,” Astrid whispers, tears falling down her cheeks. “I just-, I thought we’d have more time.”

“I know. Me too,” you agree quietly.

It doesn’t feel real, and you wonder if you’re just in denial.

“I’m so sorry to call like this. But I thought you should know,” Astrid apologizes, clearing her throat as she continues. “‘M sure I ruined your high from the all-night shag-fest with the hot pastry chef, now didn’t I?”

You chuckle, in response to her attempt to lighten the mood.

“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you called,” you reassure her, your voice soft.

“I’ve got to go. Joe and I are going to try to grab something to eat and ehm, try to get a hold of Lina. I’ll keep you posted on everything. On all the details, you know… about… anything we do,” Astrid informs you, trying her best to pull herself together.

“But I just wanted you to know and ehm, well, I know Joe called.”

“No, I-. Yeah,” you stammer through, at a loss for words. “I… I’ll give him a call. And thank you… for calling me. Thank you for telling me.”

Astrid nods solemnly, “She loved you like one of us.”

You swallow, as a stream of tears streak your cheeks

“Yeah I… I love – loved – her too.”

You clear your throat, unaware that your hands have begun to shake.

“And please keep me posted. I’d like to be there… at the funeral. If you think it’s appropriate.”

“‘Course,” Astrid agrees. “I love you. Call you later?”

“Please. And… yes,” you say, adding if it’s a promise:

“I love you too.”

As soon as you hang up the phone, it’s as if your body knows something you don’t – like your brain hasn’t quite processed the news, racing your body to intellectualize everything you’ve just heard, so your body has to take over instead. Your stomach flips, and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with the urge to vomit. You sprint to your small apartment bathroom, throwing the toilet seat up with a clang as you begin to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet, in an uncontrollable physical response.

The sound of you retching, coughing up the last of it, seems to wake up Luca. You brace yourself against the toilet, flushing it as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Your body feels fragile and your mind races as you reach behind you for the towel that lays folded over your towel bar, clutching it towards you.

“My love, is everything alright?” you hear his voice, as Luca stirs, sitting up in bed.

The sound of his footsteps heading towards you fill your ears, and as they get closer and closer to you, Luca appears in the doorway, his eyes squinting from how jarring of a wakeup he’s just had. You look up at him, noticing the way his face has twisted itself into a look of concern, swallowing as you rack your brain, searching for a way to explain what just happened.

“Well, the good news is that I’m not pregnant,” is all that comes out, in sheer disbelief that you’ve chosen to make a joke at this moment. Luca only looks more concerned, more worried, more confused, so you shake your head this time, muttering an apology under your breath. “Uh… remember when I told you… my ex’s mom… she got really sick and we had to move to the UK because of it?”

“Yeah,” he answers, unsure of what this has to do with why you’re stuck to the bathroom floor.

“I-. Astrid, his sister, just called. She uh…” you trail off, because it feels like you can’t get the words out of your mouth – like if you say it out loud, it’d make it all the more real.

Your voice, this time much somber, croaks out the words, and you feel sick to your stomach again.

“She passed… last night,” you finally say again, a wave of nausea coming over you.

“Oh, my love,” Luca sighs empathetically, as his heart falls at the news. “I’m so sorry.”

But before he can say anything else, you’re folded over the toilet once more, caught up in a competition with your own body of which could be worse: dry heaving or vomiting. Instead of leaving, Luca takes a few steps towards you, sitting down next to you as he rubs soothing patterns across your back, as you work this out. What feels like forever, and simultaneously, barely a few seconds, your back is pressed against the wall as you try your best to get your heart rate back down.

The cold floor and the rigid wall that you’ve pressed your back against feels grounding, perhaps the only thing tethering you to this world. Luca sits with you quietly, but his presence can be felt in tonnes. It’s strong, steady, comforting, with care and love in every single touch and touch he sends your way.

After a few minutes of letting you stare at the wall blankly, Luca gets up, kneeling on his knees as he offers his hands to you.

“C’mon. Let’s get you some water and back into bed,” Luca suggests. “I’ll call Jesper and Mathilde. Let them know you’re not going in today.”

You nod, sliding both of your hands into his as he helps to your feet.

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

“How are you doing, babe?” Luca asks you, as you wake up from your nap.

You’re grateful that he called in today, after the news, and called in for you as well. After your phone call with Astrid, not to mention hurling the entire contents of your stomach (and then some) into the toilet this morning, you’d crawled back into bed and fallen asleep. It hadn’t been great sleep – more so an avoidance mechanism than anything else, you realize – as you begin to come to.

“Jesper was just here. Came by to drop off food,” Luca adds, as you move onto your side so that you can face him. “They’re worried about you.”

“I’m not hungry,” is all you manage to say.

He nods, “For later maybe.”

He pauses, before repeating his question from earlier.

“How are you doing? What can I do?

You think it over, only slightly upset with yourself for being annoyed at his question. Of course he’s only trying to be helpful, only trying to care for you through this horrible thing. But it’s not like there’s anything he can do to take your pain away either, which, it’s silly you know, is what bothers you so much about his ask.

But as you look over at the man who wants nothing more than to love you, and you know he’s only trying to be helpful in an unwinnable situation.

You muster up your best smile, because you want to reassure him that you’re sort of-kind-of-okay, and you’d rather try than be a jerk right now.

“Come back to bed?” you ask him, your voice lifting at the end of the question. “I think I just want you to hold me.”

“Sounds like something that could be arranged,” Luca replies with a smile on his face, in an attempt to lighten up the mood a little.

As you lay on your side, Luca curls up behind you, engulfing you in his arms as he presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, tangling his legs with yours underneath the covers. And you’re right. It does make you feel better – being held by him – and you’re glad that you chose not to push him away.

After a few beats, and a thick silence between the two of you, Luca finally speaks again.

“Do you want to tell me about her?”

Do you?

You debate with yourself whether or not you want to, because on one hand you feel weird about it – asking Luca to listen to you talk about how much you loved your ex husband’s mother – and on the other, you’re afraid.

Afraid it’ll hurt too much.

Afraid it may break you open.

Eventually, the part of you that leans towards saying ‘yes’ wins, as you answer with:

“Yeah. I think that might be helpful.”

Luca nods behind you, before nuzzling his nose into the space between your neck and your shoulders. He leaves soft kisses against your skin that have no intention of being anything but a comforting gesture.

“Astrid said something on the phone earlier. That she loved me like one of them,” you start, your voice caught in your throat as you say it.

“And she did. She embraced me as her own… like…” you trail off, chuckling as you recall your favorite memories of Aiko Kimura.

“She was beyond upset to learn that I didn’t grow up pleating dumplings around the table when I was a kid, which was… I think maybe the first thing we ever cooked together. She pulled out all the stops. Made a huge thing of it and made Joe, Astrid, and Lina join us so that I could get the real family experience.”

“And every time after that… she always wanted to teach me something new, something I could learn, carry with me,” you continue, the memories so fond and the feeling so bittersweet.

“She was all about… slowing down, using the senses, no-recipe kind of stuff. I think it’s where I got so much of my heart from. In my food.”

You’re really not sure how you’re keeping it together, but, you decide, you might as well lean into the sweetness for now.

“I should do a dish. For her. At the restaurant,” you declare, coming to the conclusion as the words leave your lips.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Luca agrees, leaving another soft kiss along your shoulder.

“To honor her. You know?” you add.

Luca only hums in response, his arms wrapped around your frame holding you tighter against his chest.

You wait a beat.

Then another, your thoughts, moving a mile a minute from being plunged into grief from this devastating loss.

“I’m nervous – about going to London,” you confess, softly. You like to ask, usually, if it’s okay – if Luca wants to hear about these kinds of things – but it feels virtually unavoidable.

“I haven’t been back since Joe and I divorced… since I moved here. But I think I should. For the funeral.”

“Do you think it’ll be soon?” Luca asks, as you turn your head to look at him, checking that this is a conversation he’s willing to have.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I’m waiting for Astrid to tell me. But Lina’s, their youngest sister, has been studying abroad – Singapore – so… I don’t know.”

“I’m just nervous… about it all, I guess. A lot’s changed. I’ve… changed.”

At this point you’re just thinking out loud, no longer able to contain the stream of consciousness that flows from with an ease that makes you anxious.

Of course, you’ve changed. You have a new life here. You’re a you that you’ve never been before, having shed the layers of your past self like a snake shedding its skin. The realization is striking, while your ambivalence to return to your previous home in your new form feels more and more significant.

It’s Luca’s turn to be quiet as he thinks over whether or not the idea in his head is appropriate to suggest, figuring, the worst thing you can do is say ‘no.’

“I could go with you,” he offers, quiet, yet sure.

Oh.

“But if you don’t feel like it would be right… under the circumstances…” Luca continues, in fear of making things more complicated for you.

“No I-. What do you-, like… in what capacity?” you interject, hesitant about the question that you’re bringing up.

You’re not sure why it’s taken this long for either of you to articulate it, especially since you’ve already called him your boyfriend to your friends, to your mom, but the naming, the voicing of the sacred label is still something you haven’t done.

You don’t want to overcomplicate things, considering it already feels complicated, so what you’re really asking him is:

How would I introduce you?

“I was thinking… as your boyfriend,” Luca answers, slowly. “But if you think it’s too much – introducing me during this-.”

“No, I. Yes! I want to,” you’re quick to reply, reassuring him that you’re still all in, even in the midst of this loss – especially in the midst of this loss. You wiggle your body so that you’re now facing him, your chests pressed together, and you wonder if he can feel yours pounding away.

“Yes. I want you to come. I… I want to introduce you to them… to everyone, as my boyfriend.”

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Luca leans in to press a short kiss to your lips before nodding in agreement: “Okay.”

You wait a beat, almost as if you think he’ll take it back, considering the circumstances. Only, he doesn’t, so you have to ask.

“You would really do that?”

“Yeah,” he replies, simply.

“I mean.. It’s just going to be a lot. It’s… a fucking funeral,” you continue to list, giving him every ‘out’ that you can possibly think of. “And you’d have to meet Joe. Which I can only imagine will be incredibly uncomfortable considering the circumstances and I’m not even sure what to expect because Joe and I have barely talked in months and I-.”

You know you’re rambling, but you can’t help yourself.

“Luca, I don’t know if I can ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to, my love. I offered,” he says, as one of his hands cradles your head, his eyes on yours.

“Plus, I don’t have to be with you the whole time. I know it’s going to be a tough trip for a lot of reasons. I could give you some space while we’re there too, so you don’t feel you have to entertain me. I’ll go see my mum, catch up with a friend….”

His reassurance seems to quell your nerves and you’re no longer panicking (as much) about introducing your people to your new boyfriend while grieving the loss of their matriarch. But you want him there. You so want him there. You want his support, and when he’s so willingly offering it to you, volunteering to enter the lion’s den with you, how can you say ‘no?’

“Why are you so good to me?” is all that comes out of your mouth.

“Because I-,” Luca begins, pausing as he carefully chooses his next few words. You watch as he debates with himself, his decision clear when he opens his mouth again to say:

“Because you deserve it, babe.”

It’s then and there that you wonder what he was going to say before, half expecting him to say, ‘because I love you.’

But he doesn’t, and in some ways, you’re glad that whatever internal decision he made, that it wasn’t that. It’s not that you don’t want him to, because you’ve been feeling it too. It’s in every pause before you hang up the phone with him. It’s in the moments that you say your goodbyes for the morning or the evening that you watch the impulse, though fleeting, flash through his eyes. It’s in the way that you feel it so deeply in your bones that it makes you ache in the best kinds of ways.

You don’t want your first ‘I love you’ to be tainted with the grief and sadness surrounding this moment, but it’s been on your mind ever since your trip to Skagen. You think maybe you dreamed it, hearing him call you the love of his life, but whether or not it was real, those three words have hung heavily between the two of you ever since.

“Thank you,” is all you say, before you repeat it again.

“Thank you.”

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

Everything feels off. You can’t cry.

And you’ve tried.

But ever since Luca left to run an errand, to run to the store, you’ve felt off-kilter.

Perhaps it’s because you’ve had him to distract you this whole time.

Perhaps it’s because you’re trying to be strong for everyone: for Astrid, for Lina, who you’ve been texting with all day – trying to coordinate a time to FaceTime – for yourself.

Perhaps it’s because you haven’t called Joe yet.

But, you’ve decided, you really need to cry.

You pick up the phone, knowing exactly what you need to do, knowing exactly who you can let yourself completely fall apart with.

The phone rings a few times before the person on the other line picks up, and as soon as you hear the silence on the other line, waiting for you to speak first since you called first.

“Mom?”

And she can hear it in your voice as it breaks, concern and worry filling her every word and she asks:

“Oh sweetie. What happened?”

And finally, you can let go.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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hqbaby · 8 months

Text

twenty-nine — fuck it

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.3k content. swearing, mentions of violence

“Ya have to eat,” Osamu says, pushing the plate towards his brother. “I’m so close to telling Ma.”

“Don’t tell Ma, ya snitch!”

“Then eat my damn food!”

“Fine!”

Atsumu begrudgingly shoves the spoon in his mouth, glaring at his brother as he chews.

“So? Whaddya think?”

“It’s fine.”

“Can’t hear ya.”

“It’s good.”

“Atta boy.”

Osamu watches as his brother shoves spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, staring off into space from his seat across the kitchen table. They never tell each other—because that would mean breaking the bro code—but they care about each other more than anything in the world.

He knows that he would stop a bullet for his brother, no questions asked. It makes him feel useless knowing that this particular bullet Atsumu’s dealing with right now isn’t something he can take, that he has to watch his twin suffer this mess alone.

“Have ya talked to her?” he asks.

Atsumu shakes his head. “Wouldn’t know what to say,” he says. “I was an ass the last time we spoke.”

“She was also a bit of an ass,” Osamu points out.

A glare. “Don’t say that.”

Hands up in defense. “Just saying.”

The blond twin pushes his plate away, all clean. “Have ya spoken to him?”

“Yer mortal enemy?” Osamu quips. “Nah, I haven’t had the chance to.”

Atsumu chews on his bottom lip. It’s been a few days since you last spoke, a few days since he and Suna fought in the gym. They started taking turns going to training after the rest of the team decided it would be better if they both cooled off for a while. He feels completely isolated—both the love of his life and his highschool friend suddenly gone in an instant. And he feels like it’s all his fault.

When he first found out about you and Suna, he had no idea what to do. It was one thing knowing that you’d kept it from him, it was another thing wondering why you’d kept it at all.

He got that you’d been hurt, deeply at that, and all his love wouldn’t fix what had been broken. But it bothered him more than he thought it would knowing that you hadn’t so much as mentioned a thing to him. If Suna hadn’t told him, he might never have known.

Did you love Suna too? Did his feelings change things between the two of you? Were they enough to make you leave Atsumu?

He’s known for a while now that he would give you anything, do anything for you. You didn’t just knock down the walls in his head, you’d built yourself a room, made yourself a bed. You’re everything to him, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

That’s why he knows, no matter what he was feeling, what he did was selfish. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself.

So he could keep you—when he hadn’t even given you the chance to stay.

“Hold on,” Suna groans, putting a shirt on as he walks to the front door.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“I’m coming!” he calls out, voice still thick with sleep. “Just hold on a second for fuck’s sake.”

He turns the knob. Opens the door. Finds Atsumu on the other side.

“Nope.”

He moves to close the door again.

“Wait!” The other boy jams his foot between the frame and the door. “Come on, man, I just wanna talk.”

“With your fist?” Suna asks. “Because we already tried that last time. DIdn’t work out that well.”

He hears a sigh on the other side of the door. “Please.”

Fuck it.

He swings the door open and turns to walk to the kitchen, assuming Atsumu will follow after him. He does of course. Suna plops onto a stool at the kitchen counter and eyes the other boy as he awkwardly sits down beside him.

“It’s like four in the morning,” he says.

Atsumu smiles sheepishly. There’s still a hint of a bruise around his eye. “I know,” he says. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Sure. Thinking big thoughts?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

Suna sighs, slumping onto the counter lazily and turning his head sideways to watch his friend squirm. “What?”

Atsumu’s eyes dart skittishly across the room. “I have somethin’ to say.”

“Uh-uh?”

“And just… listen.”

He narrows his eyes but nods. “Okay.”

The blond looks down at his hands as he plays with the string of his hoodie. “I’m gonna back off.”

Suna frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m gonna back off,” Atsumu repeats. “I… shouldn’t have done what I did. Ya should’ve been able to tell her. She-she should’ve known.”

“What?” He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Are you high?”

He gets an eye roll in response. “I just want her to be happy,” he says, and Suna can tell it hurts him more than he wants to let on. “And, if that’s not with me…”

“You’re giving up?” Suna asks in disbelief. “Just like that?”

Atsumu frowns at him. “I’m not giving up,” he says. “I’m just… givin’ her the choice. The one I should’ve given her when I found out about how ya felt about her.”

“But why?”

Atsumu’s face lights up, his lips curling into a smile. He looks absolutely exhausted and completely ragged, his hair’s a mess and the bags under his eyes are deep and dark. He’s never looked this terrible in his life—but he’s smiling, beaming even.

"Because I love her," he says. "Ya do what ya need to do for the people ya love.”

You lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, dreading the day that’s only just begun. The past few days have taken a bigger toll on you that you thought they would. You’ve been busying yourself with everything you can—school, training, even helping Ayame out, being with her as she manages all the sudden attention and the god-awful rumors.

Things have died down, which is probably a blessing to everyone else, but not for you. Because now, you have to deal with your feelings. Now, you have to try and sift through the storm in your head.

“You’re up early,” Kiyoko says as she slips into the room holding two cups of coffee. She places one on the floor beside your bed and sips at hers. “You okay?”

“People keep asking me that, you’d think I was dying.” You smile, grabbing your coffee and holding it in your hands. “Thanks.”

She nods, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean, I do owe you money so it’s not necessarily free.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

She sits down on her bed across from yours and stretches her legs out. “What are your plans for today?”

“Oh, you know,” you say, “world domination. The usual.”

“Right. How could I forget?”

You pick at a scab on your leg. You don’t even know where you got it from, but it’s been there for days. “I need to talk to him,” you murmur. “I need to apologize.”

Kiyoko makes a face. “Are you ready for that though?”

You shake your head. “No,” you tell her. “But I have to do it. I was a total ass. He didn’t deserve that.”

She watches you from across the room and reluctantly nods. “Okay,” she says. “Do you need anything? A hug? A pint of ice cream?”

“That cute tennis skirt of yours might do the trick,” you tease, smiling at her mischievously.

She blinks at you. “That’s your skirt.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” Kiyoko starts to laugh. “You bought it like a week ago.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“So why do you keep wearing it then?”

“Because you put it in my drawer!”

Ping.

You look at the phone that lights up on the bed beside her. “Is that mine?”

She nods, tossing the device at you. “Why was it on my bed?”

“I dunno,” you say, turning it on.

Fuck.

suna: can we talk?

#hqbaby.fyi #hqbaby #haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou fic #suna fic #miya atsumu fic #atsumu fic #haikyuu fic

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xzhdjsj · 13 days

Text

Page 142

Zaros x Reader

Zaros is temporarily unable to lie.

For the sake of this fic, let's pretend alchemy and potions, etc exist in Zaros' world😭 Also, this gets suggestive towards the end (just a teensy bit nsfw), if you're uncomfortable with that you might wanna stop reading at the marked point or not read this at all!

I may write a second part for this, but I'm not sure. Lemme know if you guys want a part 2! I hope you enjoy! <3

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It was a quiet day, unusually so. That's only because ever since Zaros’ arrival to the palace, a peaceful day has not gone by. His mouth is never closed. He always has something to say and not a care for repercussions. It’s annoying, extremely annoying, and it flares both your anxiety and anger.

Yet, somehow the peace and quiet feels almost wrong. Do you perhaps miss him?

You shake the thoughts from your head. Nonsense. Why would you miss him? Though, it is strange you haven't seen him all day, maybe it would be best if you looked for him. Only for the credit of being an observant host of course, nothing else!

You make your way to his door, slightly nervous to knock, but you do so anyways.

...

No answer. So, you knock again.

...

And again, there was no answer which is very unlike him. He may hate your guts but at the very least he’s polite enough to answer his door.

You scan the area for a quick moment, making sure you're all alone in the hallway, then press your ear to the door. How strange, not a soun-

"Can I help you my Earis?", a voice chime behind you.

You shout and turn to face its owner. A palace maid.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." She bows respectfully, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine." You sigh and placed a hand to your chest, "You just spooked me. It's alright."

"Apologies your highness. Is there anything I could help with?"

"Uhh no, I was just about to leave."

You swiftly turn to leave, desperate to get away from her. Then you stop at a realisation, maybe she knows where Zaros is.

"Actually," you turn to her, "Have you seen Sarl Zaros today?"

"He was in the garden earlier, my Earis. Though, I have no idea where he is now."

"Right, thank you. That'll be all"

You scurry off, unable to shake the embarrassment you felt. You know she'll keep her mouth shut, after all, if rumours are traced back to her it would cost her quite a lot, but the icky feeling still haunts you mind. What were you even thinking?

You find yourself in the garden rather quickly, but there was no sign of his blonde hair or elegant garments. Just greenery and sunshine. That means there's one last place you may be able to find him, the library.

And sure enough, he's there.

You pick up a random book, not bothering to look at the colour or memorise the title, and take a seat across from him.

"Earis, how nice of you to join me." He mutters, barely, as if he didn't want to speak.

"Is it really? Or are you just saying that?"

"It is... nice." He grimaces but swiftly hides it with the books he's reading. Something about potions and remedies, since when is he interested in alchemy?

"Oh uh- I see" you reply awkwardly. One unusual occurrence after the other, he's never outright nice to you, especially when you're alone. He's always giving you an earful of how spoilt and sheltered you are. What suddenly changed?

The silence engulfs you both, he has his head stuck in his book and you, well you're still in shock staring at him.

"Are you going to keep staring?"

"What?" You snap out of your daze.

"You were staring."

"Oh, no I wasn’t! I just zoned out for a moment. Sorry."

A pathetic lie, he knows it too. He doesn't even honour it with a response, or even look up from his books.

God everything is so freaking weird today!

"Are you alright, Zaros?" You blurt out before you can think.

He finds your eyes finally.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing! I just- You don't seem like yourself today, I was just wondering if you're unwell."

He sighs, exasperated and tired.

"If you really must know, I was accidentally served a glass of wine containing an elixir of truth. I'm fine otherwise, I just need to get rid of its effects."

"Ahhh, hence the book. I was curious why you were reading that." The wheels in your head turned. He consumed an elixir of truth, which means he cannot lie. It’s no wonder he admitted your company was welcome earlier.

"Hmmm I didn’t think you were so keen about reproduction either my dear Earis.” He eyes the book laid out in front of you.

Confusion laced your expression as you looked down. The title hits you in the face like a brick. It reads

“Reproductive Biology: Conception”

“Oh, dear god! No, I- I grabbed the wrong one!” Your face burnt of embarassment as you hurriedly returned the book to its shelf.

“Are you sure you didn’t just come here to find me then?” he chuckles at your dilemma.

You don’t answer, but no answer is still an answer. What an awful day! You turn to leave, having had enough of the awkwardness and embarrassment.

“Come sit with me.” He calls out to you, “It’d be rude of me to let you leave when you came all the way here to find me”

Reluctantly, you walked over to the table and sat with him.

“Did you miss me that much?” he pushed his book aside, casting his full attention onto you.

“Of course not, I just thought it was unusual that I haven’t seen you all day. That’s all.” You inform him, “Were you ignoring me on purpose?”

His expression shifts for a moment, but he catches it quickly.

“Why would I do that?” he dodged your question. “Did you miss me berating you?”

“I should’ve left when I had the chance.” You sigh and rest your forehead against you palm and he laughs.

“You’re the one who came all the way here to find me. It’s only fair that I have my assumptions.”

“Too bad they’re untrue.”

“Are they really?”

“You know what?” You retort, “If you want to ask so many questions, I propose a game.”

“A game? Go on, I’m listening.”

“We take turns asking each other questions and answer them truthfully. Not that you really have a choice anyways and I promise to be truthful as well.”

“You definitely have an unfair advantage, but I’m desperate for some entertainment, so I don’t see why not.” He leans forward, resting his face on his interlocked fingers. “Well then, I’ll go first. Did you come all the way here to find me?”

You sigh, “I did, but you already knew that, so why waste a question?”

“I wanted to hear you say it.” He smiled mischievously.

It started off tame, with harmless questions to tease each other. Pieces of memories from the past and truths to white lies once told, but as it progressed there was more than either of you bargained for.

(things get suggestive from here)

“Do you regret leaving all those years ago?”

“No, I don’t. Had I stayed, I wouldn’t know half the things I do now, and I wouldn’t experience the things I did. Besides, you made it clear you never wanted to see me again, I honoured your word for as long as I could.” His words only made your regret worse. “Do you regret being close to me back then?”

“No. Then, do you hate me for driving you away?”

His expression stiffens, and he just stares at you in shocked silence for a minute. “No, no I’ve never hated you. Do you hate me?”

“I could never bring myself to ever hate you. There’s too many memories attached to your face, fond ones that I cannot risk hating.”

“I see.” He murmured quietly.

“Did you think I hated you?”

“You did send me away and called me a leech. It felt kind of obvious. What about you? Did you think I hate you?

“Yes, and for some reason, it scared me. Did you… Did you ever forgive me for all the things I’ve said to you? They were awful, I know that now, and I'm... I'm sorry.”

“I did. As I said, I never hated you, and what good would it serve me to hate the person I lo- the person I grew up with.” He corrected himself. “Do you regret it? Sending me away.”

“Everyday for the past 8 years. I hoped you’d show up to every formal event we held, but you never did.”

“Wow are you sure you didn’t have some of my wine too?”

“Shut up. Did you think about me when you were gone?”

He tilts his head to the side slightly, “More than you’ll ever know.”

“How? What were you thinking?”

“Hold on now, you’re only allowed one question per turn. So I believe it’s my turn now. Did you think of me while I was gone?”

“Yes, I did.” You confessed quickly, “What were you thinking of when you thought of me?”

“So demanding. But I don’t think you want to know that, my sweet Earis.”

“It’s my turn, and that’s my question. If I did not wish to know, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“Fine, but you asked for this. When I thought of you, I often reminisced of our time together in school. Other times, my thoughts of you were quite… inappropriate.”

Your ear perked up like a kitten. “Tell me more.” You demand.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes. Tell me everything.”

He leans back into his chair, “I thought of you when I was with others. That’s why I was never able to keep a partner.”

“Wha-“

“Every time I looked into their eyes I’d think of you, and I knew my adoration was never for them. Every time someone laid below me I’d close my eyes and imagine you instead. The thought of you and what we could’ve been followed me, haunted me, ate away at my very soul. I didn’t want anyone but you, despite my criticism, you are what I craved.” His eyes never left yours, every word, every truth he spoke made your bones feel soft and your stomach tie into an uncomfortable knot.

There should be another word that meant speechless beyond the word speechless, it would perfectly describe how you felt in that moment.

“Zaros I… uhm” Your face is undoubtably red, and you cannot bear to look him in the eyes anymore.

“My turn now, darling.” His body lifted from his seat, and he moved to sit next to you, so close you could smell the scent radiating off of him. “Did you think of me the same way I thought of you?”

You could lie, you could tell him you’ve never thought of him when you were with another and you can tell him you never thought of him when you touched yourself… but he was truthful and you should be too.

“I did” you whisper, barely enough for him to catch, being only a breath’s distance from you.

“Yeah, I thought as much.”

Your information processing is cut short when his lips landed on yours and a warm hand on your cheek. Your eyes widen only to flutter shut. His hand tangled in your hair while the other gripped your waist, desperately pulling you closer. You hold onto his arms for support, too engulfed in this feverish kiss to think of anything. He kissed you like a starving man, he kissed you with 8 years’ worth of longing and every second was deliciously eager-filled and greedy. When he finally pulls away you’re gasping for breath. Your fingers are still gripping into his biceps and his, your waist. He tugs you closer, a silent plea for more.

His breath was warm on your face, and your body felt hot. His body felt hot. There was a sense of urgency in the air, and the world around you faded away again when his lips met yours. Your chest is pressed up against him while he pushes your back into the wall behind, desperate attempts to be as close as you can, A thousand curses upon the layers of clothes that separate you.

Time was definitely slowing down, and every touch of his fingers lit fireworks across your skin. It was addicting, he was addicting. Neither of you could get enough, the longing was too much to ignore. His fingers were warm, so warm they melted into your skin. The buildup of passion was ought to come crashing down at some point but before his fingers could slip further past the fabrics on your skin a familiar voice ring out.

“Sarl Zaros? Are you in here?” The Queen gently called out.

Your bodies split apart in seconds. He scrambles to the far end on the bench, and you rush to wipe your lips. You look over at Zaros, and his chest is heaving, same as yours. God you wished you didn’t look. The way he desperately tried to calm himself down did things to your stomach that you’ve never felt before.

You promptly stand and turn to greet your mother who’s approaching.

“Mother, good afternoon.”

“Oh, you’re here too dear?” she smiles at you.

“Yes, I was just uhm chatting with Zaros.” You lie through your teeth. “But I’ll be leaving now, I have other things to attend to.”

You walk past your mother, hurrying for the giant doors of the library.

“My Earis,” a rasped voice calls behind you. “You forgot your book.”

You turn around and Zaros hands you the book he was reading. You didn’t question it. There was no time for questions.

“Ah thank you Zaros” You flush when his hands touch yours.

“I think you’ll find page 142 most interesting, do give it a read.” His eyes were filled with lust, green embers burning holes into you soul.

“Tha-Thank you.”

You ran. You ran all the way back to your room, locking the door and dropping into your bed face first. What the FUCK just happened???

You wish you could scream, instead you try to process everything that’s happened. It started off so innocently, tame questions and light teasing but evolved to so much more. HOW?

You remembered his words before you left the library.

“I think you’ll find page 142 most interesting, do give it a read.”

You pick up the book he handed you, flipping the deckled edge to page 142. Obviously, there was nothing interesting, just a piece of paper that flutters to the floor. You pick it up, unfolding it carefully, to find a message written inside.

“If you wish to continue, meet me in my room at midnight. I’ll be waiting, my sweet sweet Earis.”

#zsakuva #sakuverse #zsakuva zaros #zaros #zaros atha’lin #zaros x reader #asmr

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angelicyoongie · 2 years

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lovesick (VI)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 6.7k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, general creepy behaviour — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late. — amazing cover by @leithold!

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“Y/n, the love of my life!”

You squeak as you’re pulled into a bone-crushing hug, strong arms dragging you inside of the apartment door you just knocked on. You let yourself be moved easily, melting into Jaemin’s embrace. You fill your lungs with the scent of his muted cologne, the fresh yet sweet smell soothing your frayed nerves.

“Ack, how will I ever recover from this betrayal!” Heejun whines, a hand poised dramatically on his forehead as he walks past the two of you.

You hear the apartment door close, two locks clicking firmly into place as it seals you off from the dangers of the world outside. Heejun presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head as he grabs the heavy plastic bags from your hands, the stretched material barely clinging together as he heaves it into his arms. Maybe you went a little overboard on the beer and the fried chicken, but it’s a night of celebration! It’s been too long since you last saw Jaemin, and you know from experience that he can eat his own bodyweight in greasy food if he wants to.

“I missed you.” Jaemin pouts as he steps back, giving you just enough space to rid yourself of your boots and coat.

He wastes no time in wrapping you back up in his arms once your outerwear is gone, pressing you against his chest as he lifts you off the ground. Your protests are drowned out by his amused laughter, your squirming toes brushing against the floor as he carries you into the living room. He puts you down on the couch, snorting at the stink eye you give him as he sinks down next to you.

Jaemin curls an arm around your shoulder as you lean into his side, patting your arm affectionately as you murmur, ”I missed you too.”

It’s only been a couple of weeks since the three of you last had a movie night, but it feels like a lifetime. There’s just something about Jaemin and Heejun that puts your mind at ease – it’s like a breath of fresh air to fall back into the normalcy of hanging out with them. You can almost pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary when you’re cuddled up with them on the couch, like your stalker doesn’t exist outside the walls of their apartment.

You’re all too aware that you might be putting them in harm's way by coming here, but Heejun has made it very clear that he will not get in way of the three of you spending time together. It was you that had to put your foot down and refuse to move in with them, not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew that suddenly changing up your living arrangement would not go over well with a delusional stalker. They might be safe for now, but you’re not willing to take any risks when it comes to the two of them. You’ll do anything to keep Heejun and Jaemin safe, even if that means you’ll have to sacrifice your own well being to do so.

“Hey, don’t start the cuddle pile without me!” Heejun pouts as he enters the room, the big dish in his hands filled to the brim with chicken.

You shake your head as you lean forward to clear the coffee table in front of you, amused as always at Heejun’s belief that everything will taste better if it’s plated nicely. It’s not like presentation will change the fact that it’s from a dingy fried chicken shop that may or may not be used as a front for criminal activity, but you suppose maybe that’s why Heejun is so insistent on plating it in the first place. That way you can pretend that you’re eating better food than you actually are. The chicken might come from a slightly nefarious background, but hey, at least the shop does a mean student discount.

You help Heejun get the table ready as Jaemin gets up to grab the beers you brought, the three of you falling into light conversation as you sit down to eat. You can feel the constant anxiety in the pit of your stomach lessening with each terrible joke that Heejun cracks, your sides aching with laughter as Jaemin recaps the terrible group project he’s been busy with over the past weeks. You almost choke on a piece of chicken as he describes how one of his peers had done a presentation on emetophilia instead of entomology, apparently not understanding that a vomiting kink was not the same as studying insects.

“It’s a zoology class! How could he get that so wrong?” Jaemin wails, traumatized, as he chugs the rest of his beer.

You collapse into Heejun’s lap as you laugh, his body shaking as he struggles to catch his breath between his wheezing giggles. He huffs as he tries to collect himself, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. The action makes you snort and it only takes a moment of silence before it sends you into another fit of laughter, one that even Jaemin joins in on. It’s really not that funny, but it’s something stupid and mundane, and just what you all need to forget the world for a minute or two.

You’re not sure how long it takes for the three of you to settle down, muffled chuckles escaping between bites of chicken as you all resume eating. You just feel so warm and happy squished between the two of them, their bodies pressed flush against yours on the small couch. You barely have enough room to move your food to your mouth, your elbows knocking into Jaemin and Heejun as you eat, but you wouldn’t change it for a thing.

You offer Heejun silent thanks as he nudges another beer into your hand, cradling the cold bottle between your fingers. Distracted by the pleasant alcohol-induced buzz in the back of your head, you watch as a drop of condensation races down the glass surface, clinging on to the bottom of the bottle before it drips to the floor. You mindlessly trace the words embedded in the glass as you let your thoughts drift into nothing, Heejun and Jaemin’s voices fading into the background. Your mind goes quiet for the first time in months as you focus on the bottle in your hands, all your worries and fears dissipating for a few precious moments. You can’t remember the last time you could just be without constantly feeling like danger is lurking around every corner.

“–he never remembers! What’s the use of having a professor if he forgets about his own lectures?”

Your hazy bubble is burst when Heejun leans against your side, the tail end of his conversation with Jaemin catching your attention. Remember? You swear there was something you were supposed to ask Heejun about, something you keep forgetting ..

“Oh!” Heejun jumps as you straighten up, the bottle in your hand almost slipping out of your grip from your sudden burst of energy. ”Do you know where Mr. Bear is? I think I must’ve misplaced him the last time I cleaned, but I can’t find him anywhere. Did you see him when you stopped by last week?”

“You misplaced him?” Heejun asks incredulously.

The thing is – you’ve never lost track of him before. Ever since Heejun gifted you that teddy bear when you were nine, you’ve always kept him beside your pillow. The only time you move him is when it’s time to change your sheets, and even then you’ve always made sure that you place him on your desk so that you never accidentally put him somewhere obscure and forget about it. Your attachment to Mr. Bear might be silly, but that ratty old bear has given you so much comfort over the years that it’s been hard to get a good night’s sleep without him.

“I guess,” You give him half-hearted shrug. You’ve already torn through your apartment twice to find him, but with no luck. The only value Mr. Bear has is sentimental, so it’s not like anyone would or could take him. You would know if anyone had broken into your apartment, and it’s not like you could ever forget to lock it up when you leave. No – he’s definitely somewhere around your home, you just need a fresh pair of eyes to locate him.

“I can’t remember seeing him anywhere,” Heejun frowns, his foot tapping restlessly against the floor. "We have plans with Jaemin’s parents tomorrow, but I can come over and help you look on Monday?”

“I’m meeting up with Jungkook to finish up our paper that day, I’m not sure how long it’ll take,” You sigh.

“Black hoodie guy?” Heejun asks, a contemplative look crossing his face as he leans back against the couch.

“That’s him,” You nod.

“Who are you talking about?” Jaemin’s voice is filled with thinly veiled curiosity; eager to catch up on any gossip you haven’t told him about in the last few weeks.

You fill him in on what he missed with Jungkook and the paper you’re working on, carefully stepping around the strange vibes he gave off when you first met. He did make you feel a little weird back then, but he’s been really friendly and sweet in his texts ever since, so it doesn’t feel right to mention anything that might make him look bad when in reality he’s just painfully shy.

“Jeon Jungkook!” Heejun snaps his finger, the unexpected outburst making both you and Jaemin turn to look at him in confusion. “I can’t believe it took me so long to remember where I heard his name before! .. I must be getting old.”

You roll your eyes, lightly hitting his thigh to make sure he doesn’t go off on another tangent again. Heejun found his first gray hair a few months ago, and he hasn’t shut up about it since whenever age happens to get brought up in conversation.

“Rude,” Heejun murmurs, pouting as he rubs the spot you barely tapped with your palm. “There was this guy in my psychology class last year, Namjoon, that talked about Jungkook a few times. They seemed pretty close.”

“Namjoon?” You look at Heejun with wide eyes, ”Please tell me he isn’t tall, wears glasses and funky sweaters?”

There’s no way it’s the same person, the coincidence would just be too great.

“You just described Kim Namjoon perfectly,” Heejun says, pulling a face as he takes a swing of his beer. ”Where do you know him from? He only took a few classes last year and none of them were in your department.”

“Oh, the local library? I stopped by last week to, uh, see if they had a book I needed for my paper.” You say, hoping Heejun can’t pick up on the way your voice trembles over your lie. You know it’s bad to keep secrets when it involves your stalker, but that’s exactly why you can’t tell them. You know they’ll want to help you, but you have a feeling that’ll only make things worse.

“That makes sense,” Heejun shrugs. ”From what I can recall he did split his time between working at the campus library and the one downtown. I’m pretty sure he didn’t even need the class we took together, but each to their own. I guess it tracks that he would start working at the local library full-time once he graduated.”

You hum in agreement, muttering a thank you to Jaemin as he pops open the beer you’re still holding on to. You truly can’t remember ever seeing Namjoon at the campus library before, but then again, you don’t really tend to pay attention to the other students around you when you’re studying. It’s not like you've used the library that much anyway – not when you have a perfectly quiet apartment with a soft bed you can do your work in.

“So they’re close? Namjoon and Jungkook?” You ask.

“Namjoon talked about him enough that I think it’s safe to assume that they’re friends,” Heejun says, his voice growing a little more understanding as he adds, "He seemed concerned that Jungkook wouldn’t know many people on campus once he graduated, so I guess that might solve the mystery of why he took all of those random classes he didn’t really need.”

“That’s sweet.” Jaemin notes. Heejun nods in agreement, muttering out a quiet yeah.

It would be a really kind thing of Namjoon to do. You suppose it does track with what you know about Jungkook so far, too. You haven’t really seen him much around campus since your last class together, but when you’ve caught a glimpse of him he’s always been by himself.

You worry at your bottom lip, shifting the bottle in your hands around. Maybe you should make more of an effort to befriend Jungkook? You’re a bit of a social outcast yourself, so having another person to talk to besides just Heejun and Jaemin would probably do you good too. But, would that put Jungkook in danger? Your stalker hasn’t mentioned your friends before, but it’s not too far-fetched to assume that it’s because he knows Heejun and Jaemin are soulmates. They’ve never tried to hide how in love they are with each other, and if he has been following you around, then he must’ve seen it for himself. Jungkook though, would he be viewed as a rival – a threat? You don’t want an innocent bystander to get hurt just because someone can't differentiate their delusions from reality.

A loud smack next to your ear nearly makes you jump out of your skin, an undignified squeak leaving your lips as you collapse into Jaemin. You barely manage to keep your beer from spilling, Heejun offering you a sheepish smile as he rubs his reddening hands together.

“Frowning is banned tonight, I only want to see happy faces!” He points at you as he jumps to his feet. “That comedy movie you talked about a month ago is finally available to stream, so we’ll put a pause on our High School Musical re-watch to view that instead. You better appreciate my sacrifice and how much it pains me to have to wait another week before I get to see Ryan and Chad’s very gay baseball performance.”

“Fuck, you almost gave me a heart-attack,” You hiss, rubbing your chest. Jaemin snorts as you unsuccessfully try to fling a pillow at Heejun’s face, the plush material landing in front of his feet with a soft thud.

“Maybe you should cut back on the alcohol for a while.” Heejun laughs.

You narrow your eyes at the suggestion, holding his gaze as you stubbornly down the rest of your beer. Jaemin clicks his tongue at the childish behaviour, taking the bottle out of your hands before you can completely finish it. He’s up on his feet before you can protest, levelling you with a look that makes your mouth stay shut.

“I’ll grab the snacks.” Jaemin fondly ruffles your hair, ignoring your swatting hands until he’s pleased with the mess he’s made out of your locks. You can practically hear it crackling with static electricity when he’s done, strands sticking out in every direction.

They both refuse your offer to help get things ready, insisting that you should stay put on the couch since you’re a ‘guest.’ You’re not so sure where that logic suddenly came from considering you helped Heejun clean their bathroom a few weeks ago, but hey, you’ll take it.

A faint buzz grabs your attention. You pick your phone off the coffee table as it lights up with a new message, eyebrows rising as you glance at the name on the top of your screen.

Kim Seokjin.

You scan the text quickly, not daring to give yourself enough time to hope for good news. The content is similar to what he’s texted you a few times already – he still has no leads. It makes sense that there’s no progress from his side though, you haven’t received any roses since you visited his shop. You’re not quite sure if it’s a coincidence or not, especially since the other gifts and envelopes have been turning up as normal, but it’s definitely a little suspicious. It’s probably safe to assume that your stalker knows something about you trying to track him down; otherwise it wouldn’t make sense for him to suddenly break his routine. Of course – not unless he’s planning something else.

You swallow thickly, sending Seokjin a quick thank you before locking your phone. You can wallow in your fears when you get home, you don’t want to ruin tonight and one of the few chances you have at feeling normal by worrying about him.

But, it proves itself hard not to do. You find yourself distracted not even ten minutes into the movie once you’re all settled back on the couch, your thoughts straying far away from the light-hearted plot playing out on the TV. You can’t stop thinking about the gift you found in front of your door this morning – a bright yellow envelope attached to a flat square box. You had blanched when you unwrapped the box to find another expensive piece of jewellery inside, the brand making your mouth run dry. The dainty necklace could probably pay for four months of rent. The card inside of the yellow envelope was straightforward, nothing more than a simple, ”this reminded me of you”, scrawled out in messy handwriting. You had given the simplistic sun pendant another glance before closing the case, stashing it away with the building mountain of orange and blue boxes hidden in the back of your closet. Nothing felt off with the card or the gift, so why is he changing things up with the roses?

You let out an inaudible sigh, snuggling further into Heejun’s side. You rest your head on his shoulder, using the steady beat of his heart to block out the sounds of life outside of their apartment. Most of all though, you ignore the tiny voice that tries to tell you that you probably won’t like the answer to your question and that you won’t know why until it’s already too late.

You grumble under your breath, pressing yourself flat against a wall to avoid colliding with the student barrelling through the crowd. It still shocks you just how packed and loud the hallways get on Mondays. It’s like no one uses the weekend the way it was intended anymore – to get shitfaced drunk three days in a row.

You successfully manage to make your way through the crowded hallways without any more near incidents, breathing out a sigh of relief as you spot the door to the lecture hall. You're nearly there when a familiar person steps into your path, the bright blue suit stopping you in your tracks.

Ms. Eun flicks some of her sleek black hair over her shoulder as she steps closer, the harsh clack of her heels audible over the steady noise of the other students. She flashes you a bright smile, placing a gentle hand on your elbow as she says, ”Y/n! You’re just the person I wanted to see.”

"Oh, Ms. Eun! Good morning,” You smile, hoping it doesn’t show on your face just how confused you really are. What could Ms. Eun ever want with you? You’ve never spoken to her before so there’s no reason for her to know who you are, and it’s not like Ms. Eun only teaches one class. She probably sees fifty different faces every day, and you’ve never tried to make yourself stand out from the rest.

“How is your project going?” Ms. Eun asks sweetly.

“It’s, uhm, it’s going well!” You say, a little flustered. You’re not quite sure what to do with yourself, the fangirl inside of you squealing under her undivided attention. She’s just so cool. ”I think we might finish it today actually, I’m meeting up with Jungkook later."

There’s a spark of amusement in Ms. Eun’s eyes at the mention of his name, her pink lips quirking. ”Ah. Is Jungkookie letting you do any work or did he try to complete it all by himself?”

You blink, your brain stuttering at how casually she utters the unexpected nickname. Jungkookie? Isn’t that a little too friendly?

“He tried.” You hesitantly admit, fidgeting under her gaze. “I convinced him to let me do the second draft though.”

“Oh, good!” She grins. She gives your elbow a squeeze, silky locks framing her face as she leans in and says, “You didn’t hear this from me, but Jungkookie has a tendency to do all the work in hopes that it will make people like him more. He has a kind heart, so please be gentle with him.”

“Yeah, um, sure,” You nod; finding yourself a little speechless at the familiarity Ms. Eun seems to share with him. You clear your throat, your curiosity winning out as you tentatively ask, ”Has Jungkook taken a lot of your classes? You seem to know him well.”

“Oh no, that kid has tried to avoid my classes at all cost,” Ms. Eun rolls her eyes. She releases your elbow in favour of holding up her hand, showing off the silver band around her fourth finger.

”I’m actually engaged to his cousin. We’ve been together for about four years now, so I’ve grown to know Jungkookie pretty well. I can’t help but be a little protective of him.”

“That’s nice of you.” You faintly smile, forcing out an ooh as she presents the gemstone on her engagement ring for a closer look. You have to admit that you did not see that connection coming, your mind reeling with the new information.

“Don’t worry about your project though, I promise that my personal bias won't interfere with your grading! I’ve already asked one of my colleagues to evaluate it for me. I have to make sure that all of my students are graded fairly, family or not.”

“I hope it wasn’t too much trouble,” You wince, offering a small bow in apology.

Ms. Eun waves you off with another bright smile. ”Of course it wasn’t, I’ll do anything for Jungkookie and his friends! Good luck on your project, I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve come up with. I didn’t mean to keep you, you should probably run along so that you’re not late to your lecture.”

“Thank you, Ms. Eun.”

“Oh please, call me Dasom! Ms. Eun makes me feel old,” She chuckles, straightening out her blazer. She’s only in her early thirties so you do understand where she’s coming from, but it’s not like you’ve earned the right to speak to her so informally. She’s still your professor, and you don’t share familial ties with her like Jungkook does.

“Okay, thank you again.” You stutter, flashing her another quick smile before you take off. You hear the slow fade of her heels against the floor as you rush to your lecture hall, slipping in through the door just as the professor goes to close it. You sink down into the first seat you see, feeling a little dumbstruck over the last five minutes.

Jungkook never mentioned his relation to Ms. Eun at any point during your conversations. Was he scared that you would react badly to it? That you would think he got special treatment?

You sigh. It’s not something he had to share, but now that you know, you might as well mention it to him. Maybe he’ll feel more comfortable with you if he knows that you don’t care about their connection.

You slow your steps as you near Jungkook’s hunched figure, catching your breath. Your lecture ended up running later than expected, and your sides ache from how fast you hurried across campus to make up for lost time. Jungkook has tucked himself away at one of the smaller tables near the back of the library, the sparser table arrangements there giving you some room to chat without disrupting the quiet for the other students. He looks like he’s been there for a while; books and papers scattered all around him on the round surface. You have to resist the urge to call out to him when you notice that he’s already bent over a small notebook, pen gliding hurriedly over the page as he writes. You had a feeling Jungkook wouldn’t hesitate to finish your project on his own, especially after what Ms. Eun told you earlier, and you can't let him do that. It wouldn’t be fair when he's already done such a big portion by himself.

“You didn’t start without me, did you?” You smile, dropping your bag on the floor as you pull out a chair.

“Y-Y/n!” Jungkook’s head whips up at the sound of your voice, doe eyes jumping between you and the table as he tidies up the papers strewn around. He quickly clears up some space for you, his hands moving frantically as he shuffles everything over on one side.

You eye his notebook curiously as you take a seat across from him. It’s nearly impossible to make out any of his handwriting upside down, but judging by the formatting alone and the tight and messy scribbles decorating the pages, it surprisingly doesn’t seem like Jungkook was working on something related to your project at all.

A strangled noise leaves Jungkook's lips as he notices where your attention has drifted. He hastily grabs the small black book with clumsy fingers, smacking it shut before he stuffs it into the backpack resting by his feet. The strain of panic in his eyes gives you a strange sensation of déjà vu – the alarm on Jungkook’s face bleeding into Seokjin’s anxious expression from a few weeks ago.

“I didn’t! This is p-private, sorry.” Jungkook stutters through his words. He ducks his head as his cheeks take on a soft pink hue.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, feeling bad for peeking at Jungkook’s personal stuff. ”I’m the one that should be apologizing, not you. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, my lecture ran later than expected.”

“I-It’s okay! I didn’t wait for very long.”

You nod; choosing not to comment on how it looks like Jungkook has been here for hours already, his things too strewn about for someone who just got there before you did.

Following Jungkook’s lead you get your laptop out of your bag, pulling up the second draft you finished a few days before. You already sent it to Jungkook yesterday for approval, so there’s really not much left for you to do but to add some sentences here and there to flesh out a few paragraphs you feel need it. You print out two versions of your paper once you both deem it finished, figuring it might be better to proof-check it on paper rather than the screen you’ve been staring at for the past hour.

You huff as you rummage through your bag, glaring at the dark fabric as you realize you left your last pen at home. Your lack of writing utensils is getting ridiculous; do you need to glue them to your bag to make sure that you won’t lose them? You honestly feel a bit embarrassed as you clear your throat, asking Jungkook if he has one extra to spare.

“Of course, take mine!”

Jungkook thrusts the one in his hand out before you can even blink, a timid smile on his lips as you reach across the table to take it.

“Are you sure? Do you …" You trail off as you turn the pen in your hand, eyebrows furrowing as your finger runs along the side of it. You’ve had quite a few of these pens yourself, it’s a rather popular brand, but this one in particular looks a lot like the last one to go missing. The ink is halfway gone and the chip you made in the plastic is right there, just below the clip from when it rolled down the stairs of Heejun and Jaemin’s apartment. There are even bite marks on the top of the barrel, ones you’re sure would match your teeth perfectly if you just–

You startle as Jungkook abruptly snatches the pen out of your hand, switching it out with another that was lying by his books. He firmly curls your fingers around the new pen, fingertips lingering for just a beat too long before he retreats his hand.

He avoids your bewildered eyes as he stuffs the first pen into the pocket of his hoodie. "Um, it was running low on ink? This one is better.” Jungkook gestures vaguely to the one you’re holding before he once again ducks his head, hunching over the final draft over your paper.

“If you say so,” You murmur. The new pen in your hand is smooth and unblemished, nothing like the previous one. You shake your head. Why would Jungkook have your old beat-up pen? It makes more sense that he would’ve thrown it away should he have found it somewhere. You know from experience how easily they break and chip, and it’s not like you’re the only person on campus who has a habit of chewing on their writing utensils. You spare Jungkook another glance, noting how he seems to already be underlining and crossing out words. Letting out a tiny sigh, you pull your final draft close. You shouldn’t be entertaining such stupid thoughts when you have more pressing things to attend to. With that in mind, you rest your head in the palm of your head – ready to get this project finished up as soon as possible.

You stretch your arms above your head, a satisfying pop releasing some of the tension in your back. The sun began to set through the window as you made the finishing touches to your paper, the sky a deep purple by the time you both finally deem it done. Truth be told, you probably wouldn’t have put this much effort into your project if you were doing this by yourself, but you can’t half-ass anything when Jungkook seems so eager to do well.

“The formatting looks okay. Should I submit it?” Jungkook asks. He finds your gaze through his messy bangs, brown eyes fleetingly holding on to yours before he looks away.

“Go for it,” You smile. Jungkook silently nods, clicking away on his laptop as he pulls up the right site.

You pick at your chipped nail polish, letting your gaze wander around the library as you wait for your paper to finish uploading. Most of the other students have already left, their warm apartments calling them home early now that the autumn chill has truly come to stay. Another student catches your attention as she walks past, her bright blue sweater and dark hair reminding you of Ms. Eun and the conversation you had earlier. Maybe now would be a good time to bring their connection up.

You look back at Jungkook, clearing your throat softly before you say, ”I talked to Ms. Eun today, she, well, she actually mentioned you.”

“What?” Jungkook’s fingers go still. He straightens in his seat, sharp eyes locking on to yours as his mouth twists. ”What did noona say? If it was anything weird then don’t listen to her, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“No, it was nothing like that!” You quickly deny, the ferocity in Jungkook’s voice making you fumble for the right words. "She only mentioned that you’re family and that you’re diligent with your studies. I, um, I don’t know if this is even a concern for you, but I wanted to let you know that I don’t mind it – the fact that you’re family. You clearly work really hard despite any advantage you could have had, so I don’t want you to think that I think you’re being let off easy, that’s all.”

Jungkook’s shoulders deflate as you elaborate. The frown on his lips quickly disappears, his face smoothing out into some more neutral. ”Oh… Okay.”

The shyness seems to creeps back in as the air goes silent between the two of you, a flush spreading across Jungkook’s cheeks as his own outburst dawns on him. He ducks down behind his screen again, using his laptop for cover as he shakily resumes turning in your paper, his voice ever so soft as he murmurs, ”Thank you, that means a lot to me.”

“Of course, no problem.”

You lean back in your chair, closing your eyes as you turn your face toward the ceiling. Your chat, if you can even call it that, didn’t exactly go as expected – you were wholly unprepared for such a strong reaction from Jungkook – but at least you got to somewhat clear the air?

You let out a soft sigh, your eyes burning behind your tired eyelids. Your lack of proper sleep over the last few weeks is finally starting to catch up with you. Something has just been feeling more off than usual ever since you began trying to track your stalker down and it makes it impossible to relax. Not even the comfort of your own home has been enough to properly let your guard down.

You make yourself as comfortable in the hard library chair as you can, replacing your thoughts with the rhythmic clicking of Jungkook’s laptop in hopes that you can make your mind shut off for a little while.

“Y/n … I-It's turned in.”

You blink away the sleepy haze weighting on your mind, shaking off the lingering exhaustion in your body. Did you just manage to nod of for a few seconds while sitting up? God. You really do need to get some rest.

“That’s great, Jungkook. Thank you.” You look at Jungkook through bleary eyes, stifling a yawn behind your hand.

He seems to hesitate as he slowly starts to gather up his things, his gaze firmly locked on to the table as he musters up the courage to ask, ”Are you okay? Why do you look so tired?”

“It’s a long story.” You grimace. You should tell Jungkook what’s going on just for his own safety, but – you don’t want to scare away the only person you might be able to befriend besides Heejun and Jaemin.

“I have time.” He pushes his hoodie further back on his head, showing off the earnest expression on his face; the gentle smile he gives you.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, a selfish part of yourself begging you to keep your mouth shut. It would be so nice to just have a friend that looks at you like you're normal, like you’re not being constantly stalked and harassed by an unknown person, but you know it wouldn’t be fair to Jungkook. Not when he’s just an innocent bystander to the mess you’re dealing with.

So, you tell him.

You keep a close watch on his face as you explain an abridged version of what you’ve been going through over the last year, leaving out some of the more intimate details of the gifts and letters you’ve received. He looks stunned, doe eyes wide with shock and lips parted in surprise as you re-tell everything. You rub the back of your neck once you finally begin to trail off, embarrassment and discomfort burning hot through your body as you admit how much it’s been affecting you, making you too scared to sleep.

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow as you grow quiet, his leg bouncing against the table as he thinks. ”So it’s not just letters … but gifts too.” He mumbles shakily, face turning pale.

You actually think he might throw up if he moves around. Perhaps telling him was a mistake. Regretful, you stand up to gather your things, mustering up a faint smile as you say, ”I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you. Please just forget about it, okay? I know it’s a lot.”

Jungkook jumps to his feet, his chair screeching against the linoleum floor as he grabs your wrist, stopping you from picking up your laptop. His hand is clammy around your skin, his eyes darting across your face as you suck in a surprised breath. ”It’s fine! L-Let me walk you home. It’s dark outside and I don’t want you to feel unsafe."

“Are you sure?” A quick glance to your side confirms that the streetlights have long since turned on, everything beyond the campus pathways shrouded in darkness. You don’t want to bother Jungkook, especially when he hasn’t really said anything about your, well, your predicament, yet.

“I’m sure, Y/n.” Jungkook gives your wrist a limp squeeze, withdrawing his hand just as quickly as he grabbed you. He doesn’t seem too put off by the idea of being around you even though you have a crazed stalker, and it would be nice to not have to look over your shoulder constantly on your way home. Sure, Jungkook can be a little odd, but you’d at least be safer walking with him than on your own.

“I’ll take you up on it, then. Thank you.”

You both make quick work of collecting your belongings, shoving all of the materials you used back in your bag. You find yourself outside in no time, keeping a brisk pace to combat the cold air. Jungkook matches your tempo easily with his long legs, his arm occasionally brushing against yours as he tries to avoid bumping into other people. Most of your walk home is spent in silence, your attempts of small talk a little stilted with Jungkook’s tense replies. He seems too distracted to fully pay attention to what you’re saying, his gaze tracking every person you walk past. It’s only now, with him walking next to you, that you realize just how broad he really is. He always makes himself look so small that it’s easy to forget how fit and tall he actually is. You never expected you would feel a sense of protection from the same man who struggles to look you in the eye for too long.

Jungkook’s cautiousness only drops once you reach your building, his face inquisitive as he stares up at the high building. ”Oh, so this is where you live.”

“Yeah, this is me,” You titter. There’s something odd, calculating, in the way Jungkook is studying your home. ”Why? Have you been here before?”

“No!” Jungkook shakes his hands, taking a step back. ”My hyungs live the area so I’ve passed by here before. That’s all!”

“Okay,” You nod, scuffing your boot against the ground.

Jungkook’s voice fills the air just as you open your mouth to say goodbye. ”About what you told me earlier .. Have you told the police?” He sways slightly where he’s standing, fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“I have,” Jungkook’s eyes snap up to meet yours, wide and … afraid? ”They can’t help me.”

Jungkook releases a deep breath. He runs one hand through his hair before he readjusts his hoodie, the shadow hiding his eyes. ”I, ah, know someone in the police force that will believe you. Hyung is a great policeman; he’ll definitely help you if we ask. We can go there tomorrow if you want!”

“I don’t know..” You sigh. ”I’ve already tried twice.”

“Please? I promise he’ll be able to do something. He wouldn’t want my so– friend! to be scared.”

You mull it over for a few seconds, the cold air nipping at your cheeks. It’s not like it’ll hurt to try one more time, right? Maybe the officer Jungkook knows has more authority than the ones you’ve spoken to so far. Maybe he can help you.

You shrug, giving Jungkook a faint smile as you reluctantly agree to his offer. ”If you think he’ll be able to do something, then sure, why not."

The curves of Jungkook’s mouth pull up in the low light. ”Don’t worry, Y/n. He’ll know exactly what to do.”

a/n: the yandere boys are back!! things are going to go down in the next chapter, i hope you’re ready .. 👀 please leave a comment if you enjoyed and let me know your thoughts, that would make me so happy!!

you know the drill - everything is unbetaed so please excuse any mistakes!

if you’d like to support lovesick or my writing in general, i would really appreciate an ko-fi! 💖

i hope you are all doing well and staying safe! (ps. i’m not doing taglists!)

#bts x reader #ot7 x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere x reader #bts soulmate au #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #yandere jimin #yandere hoseok #yandere yoongi #yandere namjoon #yandere seokjin #yandere taehyung #bts au #yandere kpop

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historia-vitae-magistras · 4 months

Note

Christmas fic please?

☺️

The Blue Hour This is somewhat of a sequel to my other 18th-century fics 'When the Heart is Full the Tongue Will Speak" and "The Prison Ship," but it also stands alone. Valley Forge was arguably the worst winter of the war. Alfred's having a bad time. Matt tries to help. He has something for Alfred. This was supposed to be longer, but I had to say fuck it and put it in the queue, or it wasn't happening, so I'm so sorry for inflicting it on you. Apple pie reference is from the HC that Alfred's pie recipe comes from a nice Pennsylvania Quaker lady who took him in in the late 17th century when he was little after the Massachusetts witch crazes. This isn't a happy fic, but it is deeply loving. Also on ao3

Valley Forge, Christmas 1777

Alfred’s legs didn’t feel quite real as he approached the clearing. It was silent here. No animals. No people, either. Even the last chickadees, so faithful through the winter, had disappeared behind him as the previous winter sun faded from a depressing grey to pitch dark. He was a bit numb and more paranoid as he rounded a copse of trees and found himself staring at a pristine clearing. He recognized this house, grey stone with a heavy slate roof. There was no glass in the windows, but cheery, flickering firelight escaped through whatever slight cracks there were in the shutters. He hefted his rifle, bayonet attached, closer and approached, wary. The forest held its breath, and the fire crackling became louder as he approached. There was smoke from the chimney but no shadows of movement inside. He gripped his rifle. He should go home to his haphazard tar paper and log shack, but it was dark now, and Valley Forge was 30 miles behind.

He pushed open the door with a bang, rifle to his shoulder, and heard a surprised shout. A figure twisted, axe in hand, poised to hook it into Alfred’s neck and remove an arm at the shoulder like a branch from a trunk. Then, a note of laughter, and he was embraced.

Warmth hit him. First, Matt’s entire body was warm, and his clothes were fire-toasty. Then the smell of roasting meat floated, so solid it was almost visible, into his senses. Then, dizziness. Dizziness struck like a blow to the head. Alfred might have passed out on the floor if Matt hadn’t already had his arms around him.

Matt squeezed with more strength than Alfred had ever known his baby brother to have. The rifle was tugged from his hands, and he was suddenly sitting, sodden clothes and boots pulled off, feet stretched towards the fire. He might have vomited if he wasn’t so hallowed out. Matt was gone for only a moment, but Alfred grabbed a hold of him as soon as he was back.

“Have you changed your mind?” He grasped Matt’s sleeve with a shaking hand. “Did you come to your senses?”

“Have you?” Matt said, derisive even as he pressed a mug into Alfred’s hands. “Drink that, and the world will stop spinning.”

“Matthew---” He didn’t let go of Matt’s sleeve. “You haven’t come to—.”

“Bend the knee?” Matthew’s eyes flashed, and Alfred was all too aware of the axe on his belt and the rifle against the wall. “No. I’m not.”

“What are you doing here then?” He let Matt go and sipped on the contents of the mug—broth, salty and rich beyond belief. Matt was right. The world did stop spinning.

“It’s Christmas.”

“Is it?”

“It is,” Matt said with a watery smile. “I take it you got my note.”

“Pie at sundown,” Alfred recalled. “I got it. I could hardly believed you remembered that.”

“First apple pie you ever made me. I’ll remember it til the sun goes dark.” Matt was before him with a blanket and a stack of clothes. “Finish drinking that, put these on and then we’ll talk.”

They were his own clothes, what he’d left in the chest of drawers in Boston after he’d slipped his guards and disappeared across the border and into Quebec. He wanted to toss them back. They were the clothes of a crown subject, a boy with a British boot on his neck. Not the free man he wanted to be. That he was, but he hadn’t had a fresh shirt since his baby brother had dragged his corpse out of his shallow grave on the Hudson. He could wash it as often as he liked, but the linen was still wearing thin. His former things were practically new, the linen fresh and clean, the wool still warm. Alfred ran a hand over the fabric, still so chilled he hardly considered his pride as Matt turned away to tend to the bird slowly roasting over the fire and dressed. He glanced over his shoulder when Alfred slipped the shirt over his head. There hadn’t been a mirror to look at himself in months, and he didn’t want to. He knew his ribs were stark; he could feel them. Matt looked that kind of devastated that, if he hadn’t turned away, might have made Alfred cry.

“Have you had a decent meal since I saw you?” He didn’t look over his shoulder again until the shirt was over his head, and he’d buttoned the blue waistcoat over his chest. Everything was so ill-fitting now.

Alfred ignored him. “Does Father know you’re here?”

Matthew snorted. “It’s Christmas; he’s so deep into the officer’s nog when I left he won’t realize I’ve gone unless I’m not there for epiphany morning with tea going. So I shot a turkey and pissed off south to find you. Looks like its a good thing I did too.”

“I’m fine.” Alfred scowled. “There’s a camp of thousands of men 2 miles from here with nothing but rice and vinegar for Christmas dinner. Next to them, I’m all right.”

“I’m sorry,” Matt said, and it damn well looked like he meant it, narrow shoulders bowed as he sat heavily onto one of the overturned logs he obviously meant to use as a kitchen chair for the occasion.

“You could feed a lot of people if you stayed. You’re a good hunter.”

“Don’t,” Matt said. “We’ve had this conversation. Look at you. You know I wouldn’t survive another war like this. You’re kissed by God himself and you look like death.”

“It’s not so bad.”

“Rice and vinegar, eh? Yeah well. Try some turkey and see if it compares.”

“Why do you keep coming to see me if you won’t pick a side, Matt? You’re committing treason and you know it.”

“You’re my brother.”

His shrug was simple, unemotional. The sky was up, the Earth was down, the snow was cold, and Matt would haul and shoot a turkey and walk four days just to sneak him a decent meal. He teared up. Maybe it was the cold, the deprivation or just how much he missed home and heart and heart. Throat working, shoulders shaking even if he wasn’t crying, he grabbed Matt by the shoulders and squeezed for a third time, kissing him on the forehead about a dozen times and just feeling something so desperately affectionate he had to ride it out like dizziness.

“I missed you.” He said.

“You too.” Matt had clamped himself around Alfred, playing as if he just held on; he wouldn’t feel how much weight he’d dropped since summer. After a long moment, he made Alfred sit on one of the logs and tossed the rucksack while he struck flint and steel and put tinder to kindling. “Have you been sick? You look terrible,”

“Everyone is.” He said. There was no point in hiding it. “You know what it’s like. A moving army is a healthy army. A camped army is a sick army.”

“Why do you think I like the woods so much? I could run from the British as easily as from the typhus.”

“Yeah, well, they’re my people. I can’t leave them.”

“Do you have scurvy yet?”

“Gettering there.” He poked his tongue at his teeth. He had all of them, but he was always so tired. It couldn’t be far away.

Matt pivoted and took an orange in each hand, shoving them at Alfred. “Father... he’s in the habit of buying two.”

“I can’t take these!”

“Think of them as reparations.”

“Won’t you get scurvy?’

“I get lime juice twice a day. Just take anything you want out of my pack and eat it. Take the rest tomorrow. I’ll get a rabbit on my way back if I get hungry.”

“Why do you have to go back?”

“Stop asking me that. Pick something for me to make out of what’s in there, all right? Anything you want tonight, and you can take the rest tomorrow.”

“I want you to stay.”

Matt leaned against the wall by the hearth, arms crossed. “And I don’t want to die. So stop asking. That’s the agreement. Stay alive. Not stay with you.”

“You should be my right hand. It should be me and you against the world.”

“You’re the one fighting with the world, Alfred. I already have. I lost. Pick a vegetable, eat an orange, have some wine and stop trying to sentence me to death because you’re lonely again.”

He was tearing up, and so was Alfred. They looked away from each other, and Alfred went to the pack.

He opened food like he had once opened pewter inkwells at the apothecaries, looking for the blue ink he liked better than the quickly fading walnut; there were cranberries, potatoes, apples, stalks of celery, onions, cabbage, carrots, mushrooms, honey cakes, tea, coffee, a jug of wassail and a smaller bottle of Madeira. Smaller quantities of sugar, flour, oats, rice, raisins and rye. There were more of his clothes that he hadn’t taken when he’d fled Boston nearly two years prior. And under all that, a length of blue cloth with shining brass buttons.

“Mattie.... What is that coat?”

His brother froze. He’d been dragging his knife down the side of the roasted bird and onto a rough-hewn platter. For one long moment, Alfred thought he might burst into tears.

“It’s for you.” He said.

“Whe did you get it?”

“General Montcalm.” He said. “It was too big so I hid it under the floorboards. Thought I’d wear it too the victory parade someday. It’s... it’s your colour now, isn’t it?”

“It— Yeah it is.”

“I hope its luckier for you than it was for me.” He said quietly. “I hope Lord Bonnefoy is better to you too.”

“Mattie.” Alfred said quietly.

Matt was standing there, eyes shut against tears, until he looked up at Alfred with those same big, hopeful eyes he’d always had before all this. Full of all the softness and warmth of Canada that may not have existed elsewhere that winter. Words stuck in his throat, and suddenly, so homesick he wanted to burst, Alfred opened his arms. Matt gave up on carving the bird, put down the plate, and allowed Alfred to pull him in again. If Matt had grown, it was only a little, and Alfred could still easily rest his cheek on Matt’s crown, which he did for a long moment.

“Thank you.” He said.

“It was meant for you,” Matt replied. “You’re... tall and capable like that. It will fit you, even when you fill it out again.”

“You’ll grow.” Alfred said. “Someday. And then we'll be fine."

Someday.

#hws america #hws canada #na bros #my writing || cacoethes scribendi #the ask box || probis pateo #alfred and matt || lonely boys with the longest borders #matthew || my country is winter #alfred || o beautiful for spacious skies

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simcardiac-arrested · 1 year

Text

BOO!!!!! sillyguy jumpscare

“looks like a raver ancient built him” - my friend

“i am SUCH a fan of how you make all of your fanocs annoying himbos with unnecessary swag” - my other friend

“he’s fresh sans” - like, two people

so — he’s finally here!!! the Basketball!!!! be warned INSANE and MINDBLOWING loredrop below‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ as well as some general trivia about NWB + some more silly doodles

The Ancients, dissatisfied with the very prominent lack of results the Iterator project was bringing, began having doubts. Perhaps they had gone about this the wrong way? After all, the jellyfish that doesn’t try is the one that doesn’t get caught in the net. It seemed they had made their design of the Iterators inherently flawed — they tried too hard to solve the Problem, over and over and over again.

It was time for something new. An alternative.

And so, the idea for the Anti-Iterator project was brought into the world — a whole generation of Iterators that didn’t try. Some called it redundant, some pointless. But it convinced plenty, certainly enough to make that idea a reality, and the plan came into fruition.

No Way Back was the first created; his name was given to him to signify a turning point, a new era of Iterators. One that would bring with it change and, hopefully, finally, a solution.

so anyway NWB did absolutely nothing except talk excessively about the ancients’ fashion and sometimes ask them for their drip clothes for his collection and also make cringefail music. the project was discontinued immediately

NOW!!! TOP 10 GAMER TRIVIA:

- makes the shittiest sounding music possible, sincerely believes it’s peak art. if you don’t think the same way he’ll say You dont get it. You just dont

- fan of fashion, art & history, but in a normal way (unlike pebbles). really wishes he could have a whole wardrobe of clothes like his creators, but they’re all gone now </3 and even back then when they were all still alive they. did not like giving him stuff (they did not like him)

- one of them did give him the nikeys though

- most of his creators deemed him useless and didn’t particularly care for him. however, some of them (usually the kids) liked talking with NWB, and he enjoyed interacting with them too. he kind of misses the ancients even if they were asses

- is an enigma to his local group: he barely sends messages, and when he does it’s wildly off topic, and literally NEVER about work related stuff. occasionally he’ll drop his “bangers” in the groupchat and ask for opinions. unfortunately most of the iterators ignore him because they find him annoying (and useless as well. very ancientcore of them)

- kind of incomprehensible. he just says things

- doesn’t really have a god complex so he’s generally friendly, open-minded and easy going, but if you’re mean to him he’ll go Wow. Not cool, man. and he’ll probably give you a lecture like a 90s PSA

- calls himself a DJ. doesn’t even have a proper DJ name. probably doesn’t even know what a club is

- fan of nature, enjoyer of life. has no friends and no purpose but doesn’t let it get to him. at least he can make the equivalent of cbat 2 and force every iterator in the world to listen to it

- he’s stupid but he’s also really smart because. supercomputer. however he chooses to not use his brain and instead be silly. he thinks it’s funnier that way

- sometimes sends his music to other iterators besides his local group’s. they also ignore him

- you really can’t tell when he’s being ironic or not, and whether he’s really THAT dumb or if he’s just trolling. one thing for sure — he loves to mess with the stuck-up iterators from his local group if they decide to bother him

- if the ancients had any equivalent of the 80s, he would’ve been a very very big fan of it

- loves animals too. would call slugcat “little dude”

leave your thoughts in the COMMENTS below!!! remember to LIKE and SUBSCRIBE and listen to DJNWB on SPOTIFY (suddenly becomes normal) if you have any questions feel free to ask and i will answer. i love this guy he’s my everything

#myart #rain world #rain world oc #iterator oc #he’s like if a guy was a guy. and then was a guy again #this iterator is BALLIN he got REAL ASS JORDANS #he will tell you about the joys of life but only if you let him be incomprehensible and cryptic first #and call you Bro at the end of every sentence #btw i absolutely love adding tumblr posts to my refs it’s so fucking funny to me #oc: no way back

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peachywontyell · 5 months

Text

ive had this bouncing around in my head for a while, so here we are.

i am a sucker for pretty boys with kind brown eyes and jaime fits that description perfectly...so i decided to give him a lot of pining (that is definitely reciprocated), he has to be a big brave boy and confess 🫶🏾 also, this is placed before the events in the movie !

inspired by

hanging out with jaime has always been very warm, cozy, comfortable. ever since you were children when you'd spend weekends riding your bikes around the neighborhood, only to crash at one of your houses after having way too much food. it happened so frequently that it got to the point where it just was the new normal for both of your families (impromptu get togethers were very common).

the friendship you guys had only grown stronger with each year that passed and well- there were definitely feelings there that weren't strictly platonic now. you were trying your hardest to push them away though, and jaime was having the same issues...however neither of you dared to even threathen the sanctity of the bond shared by confessing. that is until one summer came along, you guys had gone to different universities, and even though you called and texted daily, summer was when you guys could actually hang out like the old days. and here you were, having gone to pick up jaime from the airport with the rest of the reyes. as he walked through the gate you let his family say their hellos first- it's safe to say he almost drowned in hugs and kisses, and when you finally got to say hello you didn't hold back with the bear hug either.

you missed him dearly, and the weird feeling of anxiety, excitement and happiness settled in your stomach as he squeezed you back and actually just fully picking you up. it made the feeling in your stomach even stronger.

"JAIME DIOS MÍO BÁJAME"

"Que no, don't wanna"

"okay so if that's how this is gonna go, cárgame bien, señor"

suddenly you guys were in your own world, talking and laughing and everyone could clearly see what was happening here. milagro was gonna have a field day with the teasing as soon as she had a chance. he ended up putting you down- but only after he carried you all the way to the car. it was embarrassing yes, but now as embarrassing as the older couple that chuckled as you walked past and talked to themselves in hushed voices about 'how sweet young love is' and how they wished they could go back in time and experience it all over again.

that got you both blushing...and made the drive back home for lunch a bit...strange. nothing really changed, you still sat together and chatted, but jaime couldn't stop thinking about what they had said. did you guys actually look like a couple? should he had said something to them? the fact that he didn't mind if they thought so made him feel warm and fuzzy.

two weeks pass, and while you've somehow managed to push away those fuzzy feelings, things have definitely flipped for jaime- and milagro did not help one bit. she woke up much earlier than he did, you did too, and it usually meant that as soon as he walked out into the kitchen he'd see you just having breakfast.

"buenas morning" you say, trying not to laugh cause his hair looked bonkers, but even if you found it hilarious, it was still endearing, and the fuzzy feelings you had to fight every single day before meeting him were back and they were looking for vengeance. and when he almost put his full body weight on top of you for a hug not caring that you were in the middle of eating? well, you felt like you were going to die. "mornin...." he didn't move off. "jaime." "Hmmm?" "get off of me and go shower, tenemos que encontrarnos con el grupo in like an hour". with one last, extremely dramatic sigh, he moves off and does as told. it's not like he didn't want to spend the day with you and some of your other friends, they were his friends too, but he would much rather stay in and chill.

not even two hours later and you guys are at the little picnic area everyone agreed to meet up at, playing silly games, chatting and just catching up! and jaime just wasn't feeling it, he couldn't really pinpoint the reason why until he sees how talkative and close you are with one of the guys there. okay. that's fine. it's just a hangout, nothing is happening, you definitely aren't flirting with him. thank god someone called the guy over cause he didn't know how much he could take.

"so how'd the flirting go?" he thought he sounded casual, calm, normal. he did not sound casual, calm or normal. he sounded upset and looked like a sad dog. "what flirting- what the hell happened to you? why do you look so sad? ¿qué pasó?" "hm? nothing." he shook his head, making you squint. okay, if he didn't want to tell you, then you'd just come up with absurd reasons as to why he would be upset. "¿tas celoso?" funny how you got it right first try. you don't know that, though. "what? no- ¿qué?" he prays to god the blush creeping up his neck isn't noticeable, prays it doesn't betray him. "Ayyyyy si es eso you don't have to be, tu sabes que you're irreplaceable" you laugh and god is definitely on his side cause you're called over a few second later by someone of the order people and he can feel his heart beating so fast he fears its gonna burst through his chest.

the hangout went by smoothly, he genuinely couldn't be happier, even if at first he didn't want to be there. he has to admit, he did miss his friends, so he's glad he could spend some time with them. now you guys are laying on his bed, chismeando and just debriefing when the topic of him being "jelous" came up again. maybe he could just do it. he knew it was risky, but....he was willing to take the chance. "....you know what? maybe i was. maybe i was very jelous, maybe i still kind-of am." he felt you sitting up and all he could do was pull a pillow over his face and keep this shit rolling "you've always made me feel so comfortable and...warm, and ive always loved you, but at some point i think it turned into love...? does that make sense- no- it's fine- okay- look i just- de verdad que me gustas mucho y pues no sé- i don't wanna fuck this up aunque creo que ya lo jodí-" he huffs and sits up to face you, looking embarrassed and flustered "you're so special to me and i really don't want to mess up the friendship we have, okay? but i'd just...i'd really like to be yours."

you aren't sure if you should just kiss him or shake him by the shoulders. so you settle for taking his hand in yours, feeling your face grow warmer- if that's even possible after that confession. "jaime, look at me." that boy is holding onto the pillow for dear life, using it to still obscure his face while he shakes his head. he's trembling. you use your other hand to grab his face and look at you "please, just kiss me" "really?" "si-" and he does, like he's been starving. he almost doesn't let you pull back even though you both need to breathe. "jaime mi amor, you will always be my favorite pretty boy and im so happy i can finally tell you."

#peachy thinks thoughts!#peachy talks into the void!#yeah im upset with this but i said id post it ://#still kinda cute though :') i fuck heavy with the yearning and cute crushes #and jaime is just fun to imagine in cute situations like that #jaime reyes #jaime reyes x reader #blue beetle (2023)#plus size reader #latina reader #again reitero ese tag y el de plus size #anyway #hope whoever reads this enjoys it #sorry its a lil slow and ends abruptly i would have kept it going but i wanted to keep it wholesome #ALSO #Spanglish #!!!!! YEAHHHHHH LETS GOOOO

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melodrangea · 5 months

Note

Ok okay 😼 Marie when she realizes stein has a weapon child(basing off the last request and I think it’s obvious I see the mad scientist as a father 🫣🤭) and obviously how stein reaction to his child seeing Marie as a mom!

You can write it anytime! Take your time! Don’t rush anything and MAKE SURE TO STAY HYDRATED AND HEALTHY!🎆

thank you my dear!! I’m healthy and semi hydrated so I figured I met the conditions to write again lol

———————————————————————————

Marie with Stein’s Weapon Child

-I think this goes without saying but Marie was aware of you long before she started teaching at the DWMA

-she’s a death sythe and Stein is one of the best meisters in the world, meaning your existence isn’t exactly hideabke so she would’ve heard about maybe even in brief passing

-wether she knew you were a weapon or not before she met you doesn’t make much of a difference

-you officially met Marie when she came to stay with you and your dad while they were working on defeating Ashura

-and safe to say she fell in love with you within minutes

-you were semi down to earth like Stein but you were so sweet and just overall doteable

-finding out you were a weapon just made you two all the closer

-you took a liking to her fairly immediately, seeing her as a motherly figure with your own mother gone

-the three of you would train together after school in weekends (Stein even wielding both of you at once one time)

-Marie would be delighted if your weapon form was similar to hers, but even if it wasn’t she would love you the same

-but when Marie finds out you can also fight by herself!!!???

-she’s ecstatic, so so so proud of you even if you aren’t her child

-she wants to make sure you’re safe and healthy first and foremost, she won’t let you overwork yourself one bit 😤😤😤

-is a little concerned that a teenager can figure out how to fight on their own and she can’t but it’s whatever lol

-you would probably also grow a strong connection with Crona from him being over to see Marie so often

(you would totally threaten Ragnarok when he’s being a little shit)

-when you’re in the classroom you and Marie try to act like you two aren’t attached at the hip (but it’s a wee bit obvious she has a slight favorite)

-no one in class holds it against you though and it doesn’t mean Marie doesn’t love her other students just as much

-now getting onto Stein

-this man is shutting bricks terrified

-he barely understands his own teenager, let alone a woman his own age

-you two have your own way of speaking and suddenly you’re style is changing and his house is changing

-the man cannot cope

-once he gets over the first few weeks of “wtf is going on”, he settles in really nicely

-Stein may not say it but he really appreciates the relationship you and Marie have because sometimes he feels he is lacking as a parent in the emotional capacity

-he won’t admit it but he loves how much you two get along, it feels like he has his own small family, it makes his heart all fuzzy

-and when you start to notice that Stein likes Marie you are pushing it SO hard

-i mean accidentally “forgetting” something in Stein’s room so Marie goes to get it while Stein is sleeping

-slipping both of them gifts and pretending it’s from the other

-trying to get Stein to just freaking admit he like Marie

-and when they get together you’re happy as a clam, within a few months of the two of them dating, you start calling Marie ‘mom’

-she started bawling the first time you did, and from then on you three are an actual family

-if and when Stein and Marie get married she legally adopts you

-you three are an unstoppable team of badasses, especially when all three of you resonate

-the only problem is Marie trying to figure out how to tell you both the family is about to go from the terrifying three to the fearsome four….

-———————————————————————————

that’s all my dears!

I hope you thoroughly enjoyed

and per usual I am here solely for your literary pleasure

-Melodrangea <3

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mimisempai · 5 months

Text

The final step

Summary

Aziraphale and Crowley haven't accepted Metatron's offer and although they feel something has changed in their relationship, something is still missing. Will they be able to take the final step that will change their relationship for good?

Notes

Thank you @larien04 for your donation to Alzheimer's Research UK in exchange for this story.

The prompt : Post S2, getting together, holding hands and T rated kiss… that was so delightful to write another fix-it. I hope you'll enjoy it!

What else can I be when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out with Merry Christmas!

What’s Christmas to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older but not an hour richer. If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with “Merry Christmas” on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.

Aziraphale loved A Christmas Carol and even had an 1843 first edition in his bookshop. But right now, as passionate as he was, he couldn't concentrate on the theater stage, and the excellent acting didn't change anything.

It wasn't the first time he and Crowley had been to the theater together, but it was the first time since the day he'd said no to Metatron, severing his ties with Heaven for good.

"He said I could make you an angel. You could go back to heaven and... and everything, just like old times. Only nicer."

Crowley replied in an almost hissing voice, "And you told him

where he could stick it?"

Aziraphale had wanted to be honest and had decided to talk about Metatron's offer without trying to influence Crowley, so he was relieved to see from the demon's reaction that there was really no chance of Crowley accepting the offer.

He replied to the demon with a half-smile, "Well, my dear, he's still my ex-superior, God's right-hand man, so I didn't take the liberty of telling him in those exact words, but the meaning is the same. I don't know what's going to happen, but since neither side is at their best, we'll have time to see what comes."

Crowley had lost his angry expression and slowly smiled at him as he said, "So it's off to an extremely alcoholic breakfast at the Ritz."

Which they had, though this time there had been something different in the air.

An indefinable tension.

As if, now that they had this freedom, they didn't dare take it.

There had been small changes.

Crowley, who had taken over his apartment now that Shax was gone, came to visit the angel more often.

Aziraphale didn't even need an excuse to call him anymore, because often it was the demon who called.

It was often succinct.

"Angel, can I come see you?"

No pretense, no false reasons.

In short, it was both different and the same as before.

Everything could have been perfect, but Aziraphale felt that something was missing.

Aziraphale was jolted from his thoughts when he felt Crowley's hand move next to his on the armrest that separated them.

Then his attention was drawn to the narrator on the stage, who declaimed, “He was conscious of a thousand odours floating in the air, each one connected with a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and cares long, long, forgotten!”

Aziraphale chuckled inwardly, for there was only one thing he was aware of at the moment, and that was Crowley's presence. A presence that also connected him to thousands of thoughts, joys, events, so many things, so many emotions that would never, ever be forgotten.

What kept them from taking the final step?

The last step they'd forbidden themselves for so long.

What was stopping them?

Suddenly, for the first time, Aziraphale realized.

Nothing.

Nothing was stopping them.

Nothing but them.

Each of them waiting for the other to make a gesture, something that would allow them to cross that invisible barrier between them.

Aziraphale decided that time was up.

He didn't want to wait any longer.

The angel gently moved his hand closer to the demon's, then, as if drawn to it, no longer holding on, he slid it over and intertwined their fingers, his heart beating wildly, not daring to turn to the demon.

He continued to watch the spectacle on the stage, but he couldn't see anything because the only thing that mattered to him at the moment was his hand on the demon's and his fingers intertwined with his own.

He was aware of the demon turning his head to look at him, and even without seeing him, he could feel his expression of bewilderment and surprise.

Trying to appear calm and confident, he smiled toward the stage and said softly, "Don't you like the show, my dear?"

He knew that his calm exterior was a far cry from his inner turmoil, but he refused to give in to fear.

Those days were over.

Suddenly, he felt the demon lean toward him and whisper in his ear, "The show is excellent, Angel, it's just that something rather extraordinary has distracted me from it."

Aziraphale can't help but swallow.

Something extraordinary.

Crowley had said extraordinary.

That meant he was enjoying it, right?

He felt Crowley sink back into his seat and then his hand turn gently under his own. Palm against palm. His fingertips grazing his own before they intertwined further.

To say that Azirzaphale melted with relief on the spot would have been an understatement.

So he also eased back into his seat before turning his head toward the demon and saying with a raised eyebrow, "Extraordinary, you say?"

Crowley chuckled softly as he looked at him and replied in a velvety voice, "That's what I said, Angel."

Aziraphale let his eyes slide over their intertwined hands and, looking back at Crowley, said softly, "I couldn't agree more."

Crowley pointed to the stage with his chin and murmured, "Come on, let's enjoy the show."

Aziraphale nodded and their eyes both turned to the stage. However, as much as they tried to pretend to be interested in what was going on, neither could concentrate, aware of the shift in their relationship.

Later, as they left the theater, they let go of each other's hands only to put on their coats or, even later, to get into the Bentley.

Even as they walked through the door of the bookshop, they were still holding hands.

Now they stood in the middle of the shop, staring at each other in silence.

Not sure what to do next.

"I..."

"You..."

After speaking at the same time, they stopped and looked at each other again in silence.

"Oh damn it!"

Crowley couldn't stand it any longer, so he placed his hand on the angel's cheek and, leaning over him, dropped a light kiss on the soft lips that had parted in surprise.

Pulling away, he murmured, "There's still time to refuse, Angel."

Aziraphale's lips curved into a gentle smile and he replied softly, "I have no intention of doing so."

That was all the answer the demon needed.

Smiling back, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to the angel's, this time taking the time to taste what he had been denied for so long. Not to be outdone, Aziraphale returned the kiss, parting his inviting lips between which the demon's tongue slipped.

As their tongues touched, the angel couldn't hold back a small moan, and Crowley echoed it as the kiss deepened and they explored each other's mouths, finally giving in to what they had craved for so long.

They were like wanderers in the desert who, after days without water, could finally quench their thirst and could not stop drinking.

So the kiss went on and on.

Much later, still in the middle of the shop, when they parted to catch their breath, Azirapahle gently biting Crowley's lip before slowly releasing it, running his tongue over it to soothe the bite.

When they had kissed, their coats had fallen to the ground and their hands had wrapped around each other's bodies. So even when they broke the kiss, they barely parted, unable to put any distance between them.

Aziraphale murmured softly between gasps, "Finally...finally..."

Crowley nodded and repeated, "Yes, Angel, finally..."

Seeing that both of them were unable to put into words the emotion that was overwhelming them at the moment, the demon pressed the angel against him and as Aziraphale snuggled against him, Crowley rested his chin on the angel's hair.

There would be time for words and explanations.

For now, they just had to feel. That was more than enough.

They stayed like that for a long time, enwrapped in each other, illuminated only by the warm light diffused by the Christmas lights that decorated the bookshop.

Finally, they had crossed the last invisible wall that had separated them.

Finally free, they could begin to live.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : (After season 2)

Part 1 Story 1-99

Part 2 Story 100-?

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #GOS2Spoilers #christmas #getting together

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reviewdiaries · 9 months

Text

Nancy x Ace and the riddle of knowledge in 4x11

The sweet smell of being right on the money, I love it. You know what else I love? The development in this episode. Because things in Horseshoe Bay have gone from suspicious AF to completely demented, and I am HERE FOR IT.

We finally have confirmation for why things have felt so off these last few episodes. And we’ve started to explore the jenga puzzle, if I remove this one thing - vanished as though it never existed - what else falls down? What other relationships and feelings change? Can they be pieced back together again?

Let’s start with my boy Ace, because I personally am really enjoying his storyline. Do I completely get where the frustration lies for those who would have liked to see more pining and curse breaking and TENSION? Absolutely. I too would have loved that, because Ace and Nancy serve up delicious tension for breakfast, and it’s a treat to watch it. But I’m also genuinely enjoying seeing what we’ve got, because it’s all about growth.

Ace has been given time and space this series to find himself and flourish. He’s fought through heartbreak, and yes, that heartbreak has been distorted, we know that now. Can feel the chiming sense of wrong wrong wrong, how his feelings towards Nancy have shifted, vanishing like smoke in the air. Memories and feelings erased until there’s nothing left but the bare bones of a friendship and an aching sense of something gone - reaching for his phone in the middle of the night before realising he has no idea why. Because suddenly he’s left with the sense of a relationship that stalled before it could start, an idle heartbreak, the feeling of throwing himself into work, into the next mystery, the next person who shows an interest. A tension under his skin that he can’t ever explain. But he’s found a job that he loves, he’s carving out his own space, learning where to prioritise, where the important parts of him lie, where they join together, and how to take up his own space in the world.

His sense of self worth is still battered, his issues with his parents rampant, but he’s starting to hold his ground, mark his own boundaries, find an inner steel we’ve not yet seen in him. He’s always been so quick to please, to try and do what others have wanted, and this episode we’re finally seeing him stand his ground.

We haven’t ever seen his parents come into his space before, and we get that not once but three times in this episode. We see the tension and friction between him and his father (which we haven’t seen much of but was alluded to greatly in the first couple of seasons) and we see how his mother tries desperately to keep the peace whilst supporting her son.

GIF Credit @goodobservationshirley

I love this moment. Because Rebbeca is right. The Claw is absolutely Ace’s house, and that means that she and his father are coming to him to lead, they are stepping into his space and they are going to treat it as his, can acknowledge that it’s his, which is such a huge thing. Sure his dad is dismissive and thinks it’s going to go terribly, but that line is drawn. This is Ace’s space, and that means he is the head of the house.

As he becomes more preoccupied with his ghost he becomes less passive with his father. He stands up for himself, he refuses to be cowed by the disappointment, the expected failure. He does this on his terms. And yeah, he stumbles at the start, but he doesn’t let that phase him, he carries on, he leads. He steps into his own and it is such a joy to see. By the end of the episode we have that beautiful moment where his dad comes to tell him how well he did. And moments like this? They’re everything. The growth, the evolution of their relationship. The way they start to meet each other as equals instead of Ace cowering before his dad, it’s amazing to watch.

And then the confrontation with Nancy. Oh guys, they needed this. Sure, it’s about the ghost, not about them. How can they get this argument out when they don’t even remember their feelings for each other? But this is the first time that Ace asserts himself. Stop. I do not consent to what you’ve done. Stop. He never stands up to Nancy. Never holds space for himself, for his needs. The closest we’ve seen him come is 4x02 when he’s desperately pushing for her to tell him what he’s missing. But even then he doesn’t come out and say it, he doesn’t communicate effectively, doesn’t express himself. He acts the part of the spurned wife, veiling everything behind passive aggressive snark and stone wall silence.

This is everything. This is beautiful. This is communication. Expressing what he needs, what he wants, and refusing to back down. This is everything that they have been missing. I’ve said it over and over and over this season, so much of their problem has been their inability or willingness to communicate openly with each other. And here, laying down the groundwork, is the first step. The first flag Ace is planting. A map of muscle memory for the next time he needs to hold his head high and say stop, no, this is not what I want.

But as he starts to find those boundaries, Nancy is finding her sense of self eroded. She is floundering, desperate, panicked by the timeline she’s been thrust into, desperate now she knows there are too smooth edges where her memories have been stitched together. Suddenly she doesn’t know herself, doesn’t trust herself. What is her and what is what’s left behind when it’s been taken - the trip on the pavement versus the assault? What would she do, what could she possibly have deemed so bad it had to be removed? Because this Nancy, the Nancy with the pieces removed, she doesn’t have the framework of her love for Ace, the undying certainty that she would do anything for the man she loves, even tear herself to pieces with her bare hands and a handful of words whispered in the dark. She only has an aching sense of loss and a hundred shifting pieces she can no longer make sense of.

So she goes back to the basics. Back to the handful of things she can hold onto, the facts of the case. Over and over and over as she spirals into panic and fear and the desperate certainty that she is broken beyond repair, irredeemable, lost and alone.

She knows the date. She knows the time. She knows the call log on her phone. The memories are gone but the facts are there. A handful of truths to hold onto and whisper to herself in the dark. We have seen Nancy at her best and at her worst. But even at her worst - lost in the depths of the Hudson name and sure that she can only be the worst version of herself, she knew her mind. Trusted her memories. Could hold onto the pieces of her that she knew to be true. But this, this is a violation that she knows is self inflicted. A scalpel precise removal of pieces of her she doesn’t even know to miss.

We now have a definitive timeline - Ace called Nancy after the boat trip, after the memorial, her hair still wet from washing buttercream icing out. There’s around twenty minutes between that and her going to call on the Sin Eater. And Nancy, because she’s shaken, she’s been given proof that she’s done something she can’t imagine ever doing, no longer trusts herself, no longer trusts what she’d do, what terrible atrocities she could commit. She goes to Ace and tells him that she thinks they are responsible for the Jane Doe.

GIF Credit @whitefluffyyeti

But that doesn’t track, that doesn’t make sense. The Nancy we know and love would never try and erase a murder, cover up something terrible. She’d face it head on, hold herself to the same truth and justice ideal that she holds everyone to, because as far as she’s concerned she’s not special, she’s not above this. If she did something wrong she’d take herself to the police station and confess.

So that’s not it.

But Nancy would also do absolutely anything for those she loves. Not murder, not hiding something like that. But she would absolutely run to the Yacht Club to erase something to save someone she loves, someone like Ace. It’s something time critical, otherwise why would she go there so quickly. She’s desperate. But it’s not something illegal, no for that she’d call Carson, get a lawyer involved, get it sorted out the right way. She’s not always stayed on the right side of the law - too many opportunities to show up the police when they can’t do their jobs, use her lockpicks, her sleuthing beanie. But if it was something illegal, something bad, something murderous, there is no way she’d erase it, she’d work on building the strongest defence possible, but she wouldn’t undo it.

I don’t believe it’s that they accidentally triggered the curse either. We’ve seen before, the Sin Eater erases the memory, it can’t undo the damage. If the curse were triggered, if Ace were doomed to die, the Sin Eater wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop it.

So what does that leave? I genuinely have no clue. There are some great theories floating around about that night, about the Captain of the ship mysteriously cancelling, about the curse that Ace drops overboard. Something about that is off. And we can no longer trust what we’re being shown as viewers. Is what we see the truth? Or is it the altered version after the Sin Eater has removed it from the characters’ collective consciousness? Did Ace and his dad have a lovely bonding fishing trip or did something else happen? Did Nancy and Ace actually have that conversation as we saw it? Clearly not. But what have we had erased? What parts are missing? What jigsaw pieces are we going to be gifted to fill in to make the picture make sense?

My two cents, for what they’re worth - I don’t believe the ghost and the Jane Doe are the same. I think these are two things thrown together to make us think they’re the same. If the Captain theory holds true I’m willing to bet that they’re the burned corpse. But I think the ghost is the figurehead from The Governance.

The Governance was stormed away from its original course thanks to the Aglaeca - thanks founders and your truly terrible treatment of women. Like I was in a storm.

They then ripped the boat to pieces and left the figurehead as a protector of the Black Door, literally in the basement. The sky is gone.

The figurehead that has watched over as they tried over and over to merge the Sin Eater with the stolen children. There’s only one left.

She’s ethereal, not wearing the clothes she died in, but a white robe - like an angel, like a woman in white, like a being of magic. And Nancy Drew have been at great pains to point out throughout that there is a balance. Plugonia - plural, one doll for evil, one for light. What if the figurehead is not just a watcher, but part of the literal balance of the Sin Eater?

Now, @flythesail has done a truly excellent post exploring this theory which makes me feel much less like I’m going crazy connecting dots that aren’t there, and I highly recommend checking it out, because she does a fab job exploring the ideas of reincarnation that the writers are bringing into play this season, and makes a very compelling argument for this.

And once you start putting those pieces in, suddenly Nancy and Ace behaving as they are over the ghost and Tristan begins to make even more sense than memory erasure and heartbreak. And honestly, that’s not a sentence I ever thought I’d say.

But the thread has been found - how can you find a thread to pull when you don’t even know it’s missing waiting to be discovered? Against all the odds the photo, the timeline, it’s starting to emerge. And we know how Nancy gets once there’s a mystery. That desperate all consuming urge to uncover the truth, the light, the justice for a town steeped in darkness and secrets, for the people caught up in the web, for herself.

#nancy drew #nancy drew cw #nancy x ace #ace [redacted]#cw nancy drew #nace #nancy drew spoilers #nancy drew analysis #nancy drew meta #naceedit #nancy drew 4x11 #nancy drew 4.11 #the sinner's sacrifice #my two favourite idiots #i've connected the dots #well #some of them #maybe #if you squint

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oceanic-sunsets · 2 years

Text

hey, everyone! as you know, there has been an incredible increase of byler fics on ao3, and since it can be hard to find what do read or how to find what you're looking for, i thought i could contribute with my own list of fic recs. This is only part one, i'll keep updating as i read. Also, if you have any fic rec for me, please share them with me via ask or dms!

None of the fics in this list are rated Explicit.

The italics represent the fic summary. The comment underneath is my opinion.

...

a game of truths - RomeoWrites | 22.5k | canon compliant “Tell me something that you’ve never told me before.” OR Mike and Will play a game of truths. I loved how their relationship was portrayed here. The change between being so close, to suddenly not telling each other stuff and even lying, and then slowly trying to rebuild their friendship and trust. Their relationship developed beautifully. I wish i could read this again for the first time!

no end to this want - astrobi | 21.4k | canon compliant "Mike thinks back to the painting Will gave him, rolled up and placed carefully in his dresser drawer because for some reason it felt too wrong to hang it up on the walls with everything else. Too intimate. Like Will had made it for his eyes only. Or, apparently as everyone else thought, some mystery lover in California. And then he thinks about Will dozing off on his bed, and saying I think I’m in love with you all soft and slowed down from the inertia of sleep, and that’s right about when Mike starts to feel seriously lightheaded. He leans back against his bed and focuses very hard on taking deep, even breaths." Mike contemplates his feelings for Will Byers, partakes in a concerning amount of swooning, and learns to drive. Sort of. This was amazing. I love reading from Mike's pov because i wanna study his brain under a microscope. This fic takes you through the process of realizing his feelings while trying to mend his friendship with Will, and where he accidentally tells the party Will likes someone and they think it's some mysterious girl and it's hilarious. you're not gonna regret reading this one!

i'm tearing you asunder - smoosnoom (moonsooms) | 21k | canon compliant “Did I do something wrong?” Mike questions, mouth twisted in a frown, eyes less wide than they were a few moments ago, sleepiness gone. His arms stay at his sides, although his fingers fiddle with his sleeves. “What did I do wrong?” Will frowns back. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Mike doesn’t look like he believes him. Will doesn’t blame him. “Then why do you keep leaving?” The world ends, and then some. Mike and Will find each other again, amidst the debris and distance. I'm pretty sure a lot of you have already read this one, but i just have to include it. I love how, from Mike's perspective, Will is the one pulling away from him. We're so used to reading everything through his eyes, that sometimes we forget how confused Mike must feel. But then again, he fails to understand how sidelined Will has felt for a while. They misunderstand each other, which is hard after so many years of friendship and being so close. This fic takes us through the journey of them relearning how to trust each other and be vulnerable.

i’d love to see me from your point of view - unidentifiedblackthorn | 8k | canon compliant Now that Will’s sitting and Mike’s the one that’s standing, he looks impossibly tall. Tall and lanky, and huge. He should sit back down, Will thinks, lay back down next to Will and stay in their own secluded little bubble. “I really want to kiss you,” Mike says, and Will’s eyes snap back up to his so violently he thinks he hears his own neck crack with the force of it. “Don’t,” Will croaks, before his brain has even processed the words. “Don’t say that.” “Okay,” Mike says easily, still staring. And what the actual fuck is going on? Is Will hallucinating? Is the weed making him hallucinate? “So sausage and pepperoni?” Will stares dumbly at him. “Um - yeah. Yes.” “Cool,” Mike replies and then just turns around and leaves Will sitting dumbly in his own room. or Mike and Will get high on Jonathan’s weed and Mike has an amazing idea. Just as the summary says: basically Mike and Will get high and Mike makes a petition. This was hilarious, beautiful, and a little heartbreaking, you name it! it has everything. I just really love Mike in this one:)

darling, you got to let me know (should i stay or should i go?) - andiwriteordie | 11k | canon compliant (pre vol. 2) Nobody expects it to be Mike. Everyone is expecting it to be Max or Nancy, who both have already been targeted. Or maybe El, whose childhood in Hawkins Lab makes her the perfect target. Or Will, who has gone through more than enough trauma in the past three years alone for all of them. Nobody expects it to be Mike. Or, the one in which it's Mike, not Will, who Vecna targets. Mike gets vecna'ed, and we get to see what he's really going through. This was a great fic to read while we waited for vol. 2, but it's always going to be an amazing read! and honestly, everything this author writes is wonderful, i'm not including all of their fics only because i haven't read them all (yet).

what a goddamn kiss to think about - zadurn | 5k | i think au? unsure of the clasification here i'm sorry “Can I kiss you?” he asks. Hearing the words out loud makes everything feel that much more real, and Mike loves it. He thinks he might love Will, too, and the thought doesn’t feel new. It’s like a stone that’s half buried in the dirt but just got kicked loose. It’s something that’s been deep in Mike’s heart for a while, years, maybe, but just got unearthed. Will pushes him away, and Mike has no idea what he did wrong. He was just telling the truth. Friends don’t lie. “What?” Will asks, voice sounding kind of choked. He’s grimacing, and Mike wants to un-say whatever bad thing he said so that Will smiles at him again. “I— I asked if I could kiss you,” Mike says, and Will shushes him. He looks around frantically. “Mike,” Will replies. He sounds tired. “You can’t just ask that.” “Why not? I want to kiss you so I asked.” “But you don’t, Mike. You don’t want to… to kiss me. You’re just drunk.” – alternatively: mike pines while drunk, and then he pines while sober. Listen, i just really love pining!mike fics where he asks Will if he can kiss him and Will thinks it's not real because Mike is under the influence of some substance. This was such a fun read! the ending was beautiful!

when the dust settles - teafortozier | 4.8k | canon compliant When all is said and done, days later, when Hawkins is condemned and quarantined and the town evacuated, Wheelers and Byers divided between four motel rooms in the nearest town with any vacancies after the mass exodus from Hawkins—it’s just Mike and the painting. * The post-season 4 fix-it the Duffers are too cowardly to write. They have the very necessary talks where they address what should've been addressed in the show too. This is Mike's pov, which, at this point, is notable i love haha. One of my favorite fix-it fics, definitely!

why would you ever kiss me? - aghostlybreath | 51k (so far. ongoing.) | canon divergence When Eleven saves Will from Vecna she gets more than she bargained for when they wake up in the wrong bodies. Now to prevent Vecna from infiltrating the mind of his most perfect host the two of them must pretend to be the other. Will grapples with the feelings that he’s trying to push away. Mike wonders why it feels like he’s falling in love all over again. What will become of everything when Hawkins finally falls? In order to save Will from Vecna, El traps herself in his mind. What he doesn't know, is that this causes them to switch bodies. And on top of that, they can't tell anyone about their switch because Vecna would find out if he entered their mind. Soo, Will has to pretend to be El, and El has to pretend to be Will. And let me tell you, i can't stop thinking about this fic since i read it, seriously. This scenario makes possible to explore a lot of themes and situations! Will suddenly has to deal with having Mike's attention all the time, and El understands how it feels to be ignored/pushed away by someone you love. Willel is amazing here, too, they start bonding even more thanks to their particular situation. And Mike... Poor Mike, he's so confused and doesn't know what he's feeling and why. This fic has everything! it's funny at times, really sad and heartbreaking at others, clever, and makes you go through so many different emotions. Be aware it's still ongoing, but don't worry, it's usually quick to update!

Us against the world - wasabi8000 | 13k | canon compliant They were right, Mike really is oblivious. Which is why when he figures out Will likes him, his entire world is turned on its axis. Or Mike finally puts the pieces together. Chaos ensues. It's really common to have Mike be absolutely oblivious to what is happening with Will, but what would happen if he figured it out? he's a little clueless when it comes to feelings, but he's also smart. This fic explores that. A great read that differs a little from the most popular interpretation of "mike doesn't figure it out".

i think we're alone now - friendstolovers | 3.5k | canon divergence i think? "Whatever," Lucas shrugs. "You’re just jealous that you aren’t getting any.” Mike raises an eyebrow, like he knows something the rest of them don't. Will looks like he wants to drown him. He probably deserves it. In which Will has a love bite, the Party freaks out about it, and Mike is jealous of himself. Teens being teens, Mike being jealous and not being able to stop thinking about Will. The party being clueless as to what is really going on haha. It was a sweet and fun read! perfect for when you want to step away from angst for a bit and are looking for something more lighthearted.

Mike Wheeler is Doing Just Fine - AtomosphericNonsense | 5k | canon compliant Mike Wheeler is doing just fine. No. Really. He’s okay. He’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with him. Nothing to see here, just mind your own fucking business. AKA: local stressed and queer teen has a mental breakdown, yells at a lake, and then has several more breakdowns. This is a Mike character study, in which he has several meltdowns. Luckily, he has people who help him endure it. Steve and Robin are wonderful here!

the winner takes it all - andiwriteordie | 9k | canon compliant “Honestly, I bet they’ll end up dating at one point or another. I’ve just got a feeling.” “I’ll take that bet,” Steve says, voice filled with certainty. “Bet you ten bucks Wheeler and Byers are just friends and don’t get together.” Robin and Steve make a bet on whether Will and Mike will end up together. Naturally, chaos ensues. Just as established by the summary, Steve and Robin make a bet about whether Will and Mike will get together. Then it escalates, more people get involved, and the bet changes from if to when. Such a fun and entertaining read!

when will you accept yourself? - awhstrangerthings | 8k | canon compliant, but post s3 and pre s4. There was only one thing he and Robin Buckley had in common; they both were undeniable nerds. So he's a little confused when he walks into the Video Store, and Robin offers advice of all things. After many visits and conversations about life, relationships, who he is as a person— Mike realises why he's been so drawn to converse with Robin, and that there were two things they had in common after all. Over the course of a month, we see Mike Wheeler in a state of vulnerability that we've never seen him in before as he comes to terms with himself, his sexuality, and his feelings for a certain friend in California with the help of Robin. Or, Mike Wheeler and his blossoming friendship with Robin Buckley. We have quite a few fics of Robin befriending Will, which i love, but now think about this: Mike befriending Robin. Their friendship is truly everything!

head over heels - ashhaxkerman | 11k | canon compliant On their way to Hawkins, the group decides to stay at a motel for the night. Mike and Will get a moment alone to talk. In which Will's birthday is forgotten and Mike attempts to fix their friendship, which he realizes, is something so much more.

we could be heroes (just for one day) - buffymysavior | 8k | canon compliant (pre vol. 2) Will can’t help but feel a sense of dread as Jonathan speeds past the familiar “Welcome to Hawkins” sign, the cold air pouring in through the windows and making the back of his neck prickle in a way it hasn’t since he’d left town. The past week had been…unexpected, to say the least. At the most, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he would give Mike the painting currently sticking out of the front of his backpack and that Mike would suddenly remember how much Will meant to him, and then things could go back to how they were supposed to be, and maybe Will could write off the past year of loneliness and self-pity as overthinking and nothing more. Instead, he found himself spending the week in the back of a pizza truck that had at one point housed a dead body, and when they weren’t in danger of getting shot by rogue government agents, he was trying to ignore the butterflies Mike Wheeler gave him whenever he smiled at him like it meant something. This fic written by my friend! Will gets vecna'ed, and Mike has some realizations. Although it doesn't follow vol. 2 events because it was written before, it deserves a read! It's both heartbreaking and sweet:) Also, you can pretend Mike's monologue here is the real one, instead of the one we got in the show haha.

Unbreakable Connection - Tea_For_One_Please | 20k | Soulmates AU At midnight on everyone's sixteenth birthday, they receive a connection of some kind with their soulmate. Some are connected by strings. Some have contact marks, a shadow of the first time their soulmate touches them. For some, the first words their soulmate says to them appears on their skin. Some find objects that their soulmate has misplaced. On the night of Will Byers' sixteenth birthday, he hears a little voice in his head. But whom does the voice belong to? Will he ever get to meet the mysterious "Gabriel"? This is the first AU on this list! I'm usually drawn to canonverse fics, but this caught my attention and i don't regret reading at all! It was great and their bond was portrayed in a unique way. Definitely worth a read!

Expect part 2 soon, as i'm consuming fics as if my life depended on it!

#byler #byler fics #byler fic rec #fic rec #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #seriously making this list i realized how much i love mike's pov #i just wanna read his mind and study every thought....#i love him #writers please never stop posting fics from mike's pov #i need more #im serious if y'all have Mike's pov fics recs please send them to me #RIGHT NOW

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misc-obeyme · 10 months

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Hi hi!! May I request the brothers with a MC (works better with female, but feel free to choose any pronounces you see fit) that changes or just hides their gender when going out?

Like, where I live, (as a female) the dress code is really tough and you can get in prison for not wearing certain things like hijab (not to mention the creeps.) And when going out I just hide all my hair, wear extra baggy clothes, mask, etc to look like a guy

So the brothers are visiting the human world, their MC is going to show them around, but suddenly they're all changed up and disguised. I understand if you wouldn't want to! Thank you <3

Hi there, anon!

Okay, I did go with fem!MC because it does make more sense for this scenario. Though I'm still using the you/yours pronouns, which makes it hard to tell sometimes! But I have used some gendered words as well.

Also I can't say I've ever experienced something like this, so I did my best on that part. Hopefully it's not too far off from what you were asking for!

Thank you for the request!

the brothers react to fem!MC dressing like a guy to show them around their home in the human world

Warnings: mentions of weirdos/creeps, mostly in the context of getting weird looks

Lucifer

He might not comment on how different you look at first, but you can tell that he's noticed. His eyes are taking in the way you've tucked your hair up into a hat, the baggy clothes, the mask. He doesn't have any issue with you dressing this way - finds he doesn't care what you're wearing, as long as you're doing what makes you happy. But it's clear that you're trying to disguise yourself, though he doesn't know why.

He can't stop himself from asking eventually, though. If you've taken him out to see where you live, he's going to ask you at some point. Why are you dressed like this, MC? Is there something he should be aware of?

The minute you explain why it's dangerous for you to go out looking female, he's going to frown tremendously. You must know that you're safe with him always, no matter what the laws are. Lucifer is nothing if not prideful, so he thinks he's above any kind of human world nonsense. And while he kind of is, you aren't. He won't do anything he thinks will have real repercussions for you.

Now that he's aware of what's going on, he will glare down anyone who even looks at you funny. Has a formidable aura about him as he's gone into full on protective mode. If you tell him to calm down, he will, but he's still going to be a little bit on edge.

Mammon

Woah, hey, MC, ya look totally different! What's with the get up? He's instantly asking you what's going on. Especially if your disguise is very different from what you would normally wear. He wants to know why you're clearly trying to make yourself look more like a guy? Blushes as soon as he asks you, though, because let's face it - he thinks you're hot no matter what you're wearing.

Once you’ve explained it to him, though, he forgets about all that and just gets really confused. You have a dress code just for going out in your free time? And the penalty is prison?! Has a hard time wrapping his head around it.

Don’t think for one second that he won’t also get protective on you though. He’s a little less intense than Lucifer and he’s going to follow your lead. But he’ll do things like placing a hand on your back or stepping in front of you.

Mammon will tell you directly that he will keep you safe. He wants to see where you live, but he won’t let anything happen to you. Show him the ways and tell him how to act, he will do whatever you say.

Leviathan

Oh hang on MC is this some kind of gender swap cosplay? He thinks you’re just doing it for fun at first. You do look completely different! He’s impressed with your disguise and how effective it is. Starts envisioning you in all sorts of genderbent cosplays of his favorite characters and gets blushy.

You’ll have to tell him the real reason for it though. And once you do, he tries to talk you into just staying home. Who wants to go out anyway? Only normies! But if you insist, he will go with you. Partly because he wants to see where you live and partly because he's now worried about you.

Even more nervous than he normally is when out and about. While he would be quick to defend you if necessary, he's really jumpy and worried about every little thing. You might have to calm him down a bit. He'll eventually get more comfortable, but never totally relaxes.

Be careful because Levi will absolutely summon Lotan without a second thought if he feels the need to protect you. If you don't want the streets flooded, you'll have to talk him down before he gets to that point. He will listen to you.

Satan

Somehow already knows about this. He's not surprised to see you dressed differently. He didn't know you were going to disguise yourself like this, but it makes sense to him. He has no problem with you dressing this way, but he certainly prefers when you're free to dress like yourself. Frowns at the mask, at the hidden hair, but doesn't say anything.

Considering he's already aware of the rules here, you don't have to explain it to him. However, he will ask you how you feel about it. He wants to know what he should do. This is your home, after all. He's ready to do whatever you tell him is best.

Satan's instinct is to protect, of course, and if anybody gets weird at you, he's going to really struggle to prevent himself from shifting into demon form. He won't, of course, because that would likely be a huge disaster, but he's having a hard time.

Instead he will ask you if you're okay. Tell him what you need, MC. He's here for you. Will likely hold your hand or put his arm around you - something to indicate that you're with him. Will absolutely make sure he's got a terrifying expression to keep people from approaching if he thinks that will help.

Asmodeus

At first, he's amazed. You actually look so cool like that! He gets right away that you're trying to look more like a guy. Probably has tips to help out with your disguise. Let him at least make you look like a cute guy! You might have to talk him out of adding all kinds of embellishments to your outfit. The goal is to blend in, not stand out.

You'll have to explain to him why you're doing this to begin with. Then he's upset. Asmo has a really hard time understanding why a dress code would be enforced outside of something like school or work. He can't imagine not being able to dress how he likes in his free time. That sounds terrible!

Not to mention the threat of prison. He is not okay with that at all. Not only does the idea scare him, but he really hates the idea of you going to prison. Unacceptable, MC! You are far too precious to him for him to allow anything of the sort! So he'll listen to you when you explain what needs to be done regarding this.

Has an amazing resting bitch face that scares off anyone who might look at you funny. If they dare to approach, he can get them to leave with only a few well said lines. Something about his tone of voice scares everybody off.

Beelzebub

A mixed reaction. Beel actually doesn't care at all what you wear, so if you show up looking different it must be because you want to and he's fine with that. But also there's just something about you dressing up like a guy that's making him blush. Covers it up by asking you about it, since this is obviously not your normal mode of dress.

Gets serious as soon as you explain. Another one who will just follow your lead on this. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to you, but he also realizes he knows very little about how things work in your home. He absolutely wants to see everything you want to show him, too. Just tell him how to act.

He's intimidating just because of his size and he knows that. He doesn't go out of his way to look scary, just sticks close to you. He knows his presence is more than enough to ward off weirdos. He's aware of his surroundings, but his focus is on you.

In the end, he proves to be an effective deterrent for weird looks. He's just happy he could be here for you, MC. Please show him all your favorite places. Especially interested in any food you might be taking him to enjoy. He doesn't mind that you have to disguise yourself, but he does wish you were free to be how you want.

Belphegor

Blushes immediately upon seeing you, but forces it down because he recognizes right away that you're deliberately trying to hide your gender. The mask and tucked up hair really kind of give it away. He frowns at you because he's confused. Asks you about it immediately. Why aren't you wearing your usual clothes?

Once he understands, he might take the Levi route and suggest staying home. You could totally just take a nap, it's fine. No need to go out. It isn't that he doesn't want to see your home - he really does - but he's also worried. And when he's worried, he acts like he doesn't care instead because that's easier.

If you insist, he will accompany you. But he stays by your side the whole time, practically glued to your hip. Another one who has to fight down his demon form if anybody looks at you funny. Belphie is one of the quieter brothers, but that doesn't mean he won't go feral if he thinks it will protect you.

Tell him everything is okay and that he just needs to do what you say. He'll calm down. Sorry, MC. He's just a little on edge. But he does want to see your home, so please take him wherever you like.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me headcanons #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #request #anon request #misc writes

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