#sorry would it have been less uncomfortable for you if i said WORM ON A STRING WHAT CRIMES WILL HE COMMIT :3 and talked about frogs
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Thinkin Bout You
T | 1,061 words
Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy
Even though he can admit that it's a selfish desire, Eddie still wants to use Steve's pool. He'd thought that, after finally defeating Vecna and saving Max, they could use it as an excuse to have some sort of party.
He's always wanted to go to one of Steves infamous, exclusive pool parties.
"No," Steve immediately snapped, when Eddie brought it up. It was the first time Eddie had ever really heard him angry. "No one goes in the pool. No one- just, stay away from it. It's off limits. That's it."
He'd been confused, but accepted his answer. It didn't matter what he wanted, it clearly made Steve uncomfortable. It wasn't his place to challenge those boundaries.
... but it did make him curious.
At first, he tried to figure it out on his own. Or, more accurately, tried to gauge how Steve fully and truly felt about the pool.
Steve avoided the thing like it would bite him if he looked at it too long. He always steered conversations away from it, or swimming in general, too.
"I'm worried," Eddie admitted, when he finally gave in and turned to Robin. "He can't keep avoiding pools forever."
"It's not pools," Robin says, reluctantly. "It's his pool, specifically. You'll have to ask him, but... you'd get it. If you knew why."
But the only answer he got from Steve was vague, something about Nancy and bad memories.
"I don't want to know what happened," Eddie starts, worming past Nancy as soon as she opens the door. "I only need to know if redecorating the pool might help. Like, if it's bad memories tied to it then spicing it up so it looks different... that'll help, right?"
Nancy stares at him for a moment, needing a moment to catch up.
"We are talking about Steve?" She finally asks.
"Yeah!"
"Right... um... redecorating..." She looks off to the side, frowning in thought. "It might help. He probably won't want to get in himself, no matter what, but... yeah, changing it up might make him more comfortable with it in general."
"Great! I don't know how to redecorate a pool."
Nancy rolls her eyes.
But she jumps into action. She calls Robin, Jonathan and Argyle, gathering them together so they can brainstorm ideas.
It's Jonathan who suggests they try and make it more kid friendly. Argyle is the one who collects pool decals, agreeing on placing them too. Robin insists on being the one to chose the colors with Nancy's help.
Eddie gets stuck with collecting floats and toys, making a mental list of what they could get.
With their hush money, they're able to put aside a decent amount of money for the budget. They're definitely going to be able to completely change that pool.
Getting the kids to agree to distract Steve for the entire day is too easy. They don't even ask why.
Steve calls Robins less than half an hour after they call the kids, pleading and whining about the kids plan. He tries to get her to come up with some excuse to get him out of it.
"Sorry," Robin says, wincing. "Need to stay home with mom. Sounds serious."
It takes another half an hour until Lucas is able to radio them, giving them the all clear.
Sneaking round to Steve's pool feels strange. Mostly thanks to how casual it is, how calm the others look despite the fact that they're technically breaking in.
"We're not breaking in," Nancy points out. "We have keys. He said we can come over whenever we want. We're welcome."
"Hey," Jonathan says, snapping his fingers to get their attention. "Come on, we have a lot to do."
And it is a lot.
Working together, they're able to get through the worst of it pretty fast. It's impossible to rush it all though, having to wait for paint to dry or glue to stick.
They've barely sat down, finally finishing everything, when Steve gets back with the kids.
"Woah, this is amazing!" Dustin says, grinning wide, the first to burst out the back doors.
"Holy shit," Mike says, next out. "How did you do all this in that time?"
"What are you guys yelling about?" Steve asks, voice distant.
The kids scramble out of the way, watching the door for Steve, excited.
"Where have you- oh."
He freezes in the doorway, eyes darting around the garden.
"Surprise!" Robin yells, jumping over to him. "You like it?"
"How did you..."
"It was easy," Nancy says, reassuring.
"Eddie noticed that you hate the pool," Robin adds. "He suggested we redecorate. Change it up. Make it something new."
Steve looks between them all, face blank.
"Steve?" Eddie says, shifting nervously.
"Thank you," Steve says. "It's... thank you."
"Does this mean we can use your pool now?" Mike asks.
Steve laughs, though it sounds slightly choked. "Yeah," he says, shaking his head. "Sure, whatever, let's have a pool party."
The kids cheer, rushing off to get changed. The others follow after them slower, leaving Steve and Eddie alone.
"This was your idea?" Steve asks.
"Kinda? We all worked together to actually... do it. I only suggested we do something. Nancy's the brains behind it all, really. And Argyle."
"Still, you thought to do all... this."
"I guess."
"Thank you, Ed."
"Oh, nah, don't. It was motivated entirely by, like... greed."
Steve snorts, disbelieving.
"It was! You never let us use the pool."
"You wouldn't need to redecorate this much to do that."
"That... yeah, I would," Eddie winces at how his voice cracks. "You're overprotective."
"Eds," Steve grabs his hand, finally drawing his attention to how they've drifted to each other. "Just accept the thank you, alright?"
Eddie glances at their hands, half expecting Steve to pull away. But, despite the flush in his cheeks, he keeps a tight hold.
"Alright," Eddie finally says. "You're welcome?"
"Great," Steve tugs at his hand, keeping ahold of him as he drags them to the house. "I have spare swim shorts that you can borrow."
"You sure they won't be too big?"
Steve glances back, just in time to catch Eddie's eyes drifting down. He laughs bumping his shoulder into Eddie's.
"Perv."
"You love it," Eddie teases, expecting Steve to take it ask a joke.
But he smiles, soft and genuine, squeezing Eddie's hand as he says, "I really do."
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obsessed with your kenuri universe and would love to see some kenny/kuchel fluffy sibling time (why'd have to kill heeeer jk)
You ask and I shall deliver. This took me longer than I wanted (I should have posted it in December but I was very depressed). Also, sorry for having to K my sweet Kuchel, but she is very much alive in this!
Family chaos on Christmas - the prequel
Summary: Kenny is miserably working on the holiday season, Kuchel is very pregnant and Uri is worming his way into Kenny's heart.
Content warning: within my family chaos universe, modern au, a prequel of sorts, some angst, mentions of pregnancy and labor, Kenny is a good brother, Kenny is tired and anxious, mentions of anxiety, slight descriptions of anxiety attacks, fluff, some domestic vibes, sibling bond, pining (Kenny/Uri)
__________________________________________________________
Kenny waited five seconds after she left to immediately switch the door sign from open to closed.
“Happy holidays, mister Ackerman” the old woman waved as she finally left the shop.
“Happy holidays, ma’am”
“Fucking finally”
The young man wanted nothing more than to end that shift. He thought it should be a crime to work on December 24th.
“Who fucking needs repair tools on Christmas?? You know, if people were less stupid and more organized all shops could close on holidays”
He had complained while getting ready for work that morning. Kuchel - the little shit that she was - just laughed at his annoyance.
“At least the owner let you close earlier, Ken. It could have been worse”
He huffed while recalling the short conversation. It was easy for Kuchel to not relate to his misery, she never worked on holidays even before she went on maternity leave. For him, working six instead of eight hours on Christmas made no difference in the end, since traffic would probably take the rest of his sanity away.
“Fuck off” he screamed loudly as he hit yet another traffic jam. It took 30 extra minutes for him to finally arrive at the apartment complex. He groaned while parking, Kuchel’s car was almost giving up - that old thing would die on them any day, Kenny was dreading it. He managed to park and almost cried in relief. Finally home!
Well. He may have rid himself of work, but home was another rollercoaster to get through.
“Kenny!” the woman greeted him from the living room/kitchen couch “took you long enough”
The older ackerman was sitting comfortably on the couch, reading a book, a heavy blanket covering her round middle section and many pillows stacked around her.
“Have you eaten?” the man asked “I thought about take out, but traffic was impossible to go through”
“I snacked a little, it’s fine” she assured him, but her face said otherwise.
She finally reached the ninth month - or, according to her, the 39th week - of her pregnancy. Kuchel was huge and feeling as uncomfortable as her appearance suggested. The last few weeks were filled with low mobility and badly assembled snacks.
“What about some chicken salad?” he suggested “I pre-made some seasoned shredded chicken”
The woman’s eyes beamed at him.
“Kenny, you’re a lovely lovely brother, you know that?”
He groaned.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever”
Despite his initial stress and tiredness, there was a calming property in cooking a tasty chicken salad. He was far from a good student in school, but the ‘chemistry’ and ‘physics’ of food always fascinated him, he wished life could subside enough for him to spend more time experimenting with cooking. The satisfaction of eating a good meal was a recent comfort he was thankful for everyday.
“Here” he handed his sister the plate with plenty of the chicken salad “beverage?”
She motioned the half full bottle of guava juice on the kitchen table, silently denying his question. The Ackerman man sat down on the ground, with his own plate on his lap, leaving a groan of relief at the first bite. He turned the television on, looking for something interesting to watch but only finding Christmas movies or news.
“Go back!” Kuchel’s voice almost startled him.
“What? The stupid christmas movie?”
She nodded fervently while still chewing. Kenny shook his head and went back to the channel playing a movie - what seemed to be one of those holiday rom coms.
“I thought you hated romcoms,” Kenny commented.
“I do”
Kenny had learned early on that pregnancy made Kuchel even weirder. From the moment she found out the unexpected demon spawn in her uterus, she had weird cravings (not only for food, there were a few weeks she could only sleep by watching animal documentaries). He learned to not question after a while, it kept things easy to handle.
“Do you think family Christmas dinners are always like that?” she pointed her fork at the tv “It seems so inaccurate”
Kenny shrugged. Still focused on his plate.
“Well, it doesn’t snow here in december so safe to say it might not be so accurate” his sister concluded on her own.
They kept eating in silence and the movie proved to be just as stupid as it promised, though he heard sniffling behind him. Now, if there is something Kenny learned ever since he and his sister finally left the foster system to live together was that you don’t question her feelings - especially pregnant. He almost considered patting her on the shoulders in comfort but remembered she still had a good aim and her flip flops were right there, ready to be thrown.
“What a stupid movie” she mumbled.
He stood up, taking Kuchel’s plate and finally building courage to do the dishes despite his exhaustion. He heard his sister turn off the television and certain sounds indicated she was leaving her cocoon of blankets and pillows, grunting during the entire process.
“You okay there?” he asked while hanging the dishes to dry.
It was safe to say Kenny panicked a bit too often with Kuchel’s every display of discomfort - the nervousness of her due date always on the back of his mind. The young man was not feeling prepared at all for the big day even with his sister’s advice and thorough explanations of the process - although Kuchel herself was very new to this and also terrified despite not admitting.
“Yes Kenny, the boy isn’t coming out until next week. Relax…Uh!” she let out a shriek.
He hated her so much. Kenny ran to the living room, trying to see any signs of wetness indicating that the antichrist wanted out, instead he found his sister peering down at his phone - which was silently vibrating with a call.
“It’s your loverboy” she smiled at him like the little shit that she was “pick it up or I will”
“He isn’t-” he sighed, giving up this fruitless conversation they always had and picking up the phone.
“Hello” Kenny answered.
“Good evening, Kenny, is it bad timing?”
“No, not at all!” He dried his hands on his beat up jeans, Kuchel waving crazily in front of him.
“Great! I just wanted to call because I thought a message felt a bit too distant. I know you said you don’t celebrate Christmas, but I just wanted to wish you and Kuchel a special good night’s rest.”
The noises on the background indicated Uri, his neighbor, was probably at a family gathering at his family home, Kenny could hear loud voices and holiday music playing softly.
“Thank you Uri, we appreciate it”
Kuchel was staring at Kenny so intensely he felt a hole on his forehead, her insistent mouthing of “Can I talk to him?” “Let me talk to him!!”, distracting the man.
“In fact, she is right here dying to talk to you”
Uri laughed - a pretty sound that was - and asked to talk to Kuchel.
“Hey Uri! I haven’t seen you today but I wish you a wonderful christmas” His sister beamed at the cellphone.
She talked shortly to the other man, thanking Uri for the well wishes. Kenny was grateful his sister did not try to embarrass him this time - he had enough of her hinting to Uri that Kenny had a slight (giant) crush on the Reiss man.
“Your sister is a lovely woman. I’ll bring some food for you two when I head home”
“Nah, It’s okay, Uri. No need”
“No, I insist Kenny. We have plenty of food here anyway and I know you’ve been working a lot lately. At least we keep Kuchel with a sustainable meal to eat when you’re not home tomorrow”
“You convinced me, but don’t come crying to me when she forces you to have dinner with us and show you the same ultrasound pictures again” Kenny said, chuckling.
To that Kuchel raised her middle finger, mouthing a “fuck you, Kenny”
“Nothing more wonderful than spending the evening with Ackermans” Uri chuckled - what a pretty sound “I have to go, Frieda is looking at me like I am committing a crime, but I see the two of you soon”
They said their goodbyes and the call went off, Kenny’s heart was doing strange jumps on his ribcage - he was down bad for that man. Kuchel was sitting on the couch, smiling like a mad woman and clapping her hands.
“Not a word” he warned her.
“For the love of god, Kenny, ask that man on a date!”
He ignored her while heading for a shower, if he let Kuchel speak about Uri he would probably end up dealing with feeling he was too tired to process. Kenny preferred to like Uri from a distance - just being neighbors that got along well. His sister constantly telling him the Reiss man was into him did not help at all.
“Not only is he clearly interested, but he is so kind and patient, Ken! Give the poor man a little chance” she would say.
Kenny tried not to think about it, failing miserably though. He had many opportunities to meet Uri on a more romantic level, the man had invited him for coffee so many times and Kenny always refused politely. He was afraid, Uri did not know the mess he was in the head. And the worst part: Uri was really patient and understanding and respectful and observant…Kenny had a problem.
“I’m gonna sleep” Kenny knocked on his sister’s room “need anything else?”
“No! Everything okay. You should sleep, Ken”
He wished her a good night and flopped into his bed, slumber quickly taking him.
He never had dreams, only nightmares or an empty sleep. That night though, he dreamed about him and Kuchel sitting on a huge table full of food. His sister had a nice elegant red dress, contrasting with her long dark hair. Kenny himself looked down to see a nice set of pants and button up shirt. The decorations screamed Christmas - there was even snow outside!- but what surprised him was seeing Uri beside him, equally well dressed…with a baby in his arms. The small little human seemed to be pushing one year old, almost pink in color, pouty face, dark hair, looking at Kenny with light colored eyes.
“You want your uncle, little one?” Uri said, bouncing the child slightly.
As if he had no control, Kenny felt his arms reach out to the baby, his voice coming out in equal involuntary action.
“I know, I’m your favorite” his voice sounded…happy. Not that he was against having a nephew, he just struggled to have a connection with someone he had never met. But in that moment, looking at light blue eyes, he wondered if he could measure how dear that boy was.
“Typical of Levi to prefer the one who calls him demon spawn” Kuchel said.
The dream faded slowly, with the last scenes of a baby on his lap while they celebrated Christmas just like that stupid movie they were watching. He woke up feeling a strange sense of missing something. Of sadness. He stayed in bed for longer than usual, wondering why he dreamed of that. His only family was Kuchel for as long as he remembers, everything different than that seemed terrifying.
The boy seemed so real. What about Uri? Could he ever be anything more than a friendly neighbor?
Deciding that he can’t afford having an existential crisis, the man finally decided to start his routine, but early morning finally came to test Kenny's bowels. As soon as he saw Kuchel enter the kitchen, seemingly uncomfortable and walking weirdly, he panicked once again.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” Kenny asked again - to his own demise.
“Kenny!” His sister warned him.
“I’m just worried, you seem to be hurting quite a lot”
Kuchel looked at him unimpressed, not answering. She had woken up that morning complaining of a few contractions.
“It’s probably false alarm, Kenny, but it still sucks”
Kenny was in a full pit of anxiety at that point. Everytime she had a false alarm he panicked anyway, a single sneeze and that spawn would pop out of her. He didn't think she would make it to an entire week.
“I’m gonna try and call your doctor again”
Kenny tried once again the number, without success.
“We should go to the hospital, Kuch” he tried again to convince her.
“No! They’re just going to send us home again, let’s see if it progresses and then we go”
Kenny was honestly tired, and scared, but he nodded. It took several minutes for Kuchel to finally convince him to go to work for at least the morning shift, but he was not able to concentrate well. He checked her text messages constantly, alongside Uri’s.
Uri Reiss Neighbor: I’m with her, if anything happens I’ll rush her to the hospital
You: Thanks Uri, I promise I’ll be back by 2pm since it’s Xmas day
Uri Reiss Neighbor: No need to thank me, see you soon. I’m making lunch if that’s okay.
That man was a fucking saint. Kenny was down bad. He had to concentrate while trying not to fall in love with that man or dying of worry for his sister. Work was haphazardly done, Kenny practically breaking traffic laws to go home, practically climbing the stairs to his apartment floor, thinking he would have to immediately rush her to a hospital for the antichrist to be born…just to find Uri and Kuchel sitting quietly on the dinner table, tea in front of them and a deck of cards.
“Good afternoon, Kenny” Reiss greeted him.
“Hi, Ken”
Kenny looked at his sister with confusion. She seemed composed and calm. Uri - as always - was well dressed, smelling like a hundred yards of soft flowers, calmly playing with Kuchel.
“The contraction stopped as soon as you left” she said, pointing to her huge stomach “maybe he doesn’t like you”
Kenny groaned, sitting on the couch to catch his breath.
“Demon spawn” he mumbled, smiling discreetly.
Kuchel turned, burning him with her eyes.
“He is a perfect little angel”
That was another bickering Kenny did not want to continue so he just surrendered. But he was a demon child! Anything born from an Ackerman was demonic - Kenny was an absolute nightmare as a kid and he was already dreading that baby.
“Hungry?” Uri asked “There is a plate for you in the microwave”
His noisy stomach answered for him, guiding his already tired self to the kitchen. The food was probably from the family dinner Uri went to last night, good quality meat and tasty sauce. He wondered if he could reproduce that recipe one day and maybe make a special dinner after the baby was born. He ate on the table while watching his sister and Uri play with the cards, attentively listening to Kuchel's gossip of the apartment complex group chat. She was bored to death most days, watching people from the balcony and stalking the chat seemed to be the entertainment of the century.
“It’s okay, Uri, now that Kenny is here he can keep an eye on me” his sister said once Uri hesitated to return to his family’s home.
“I’ll return tomorrow morning. My mother really insisted that I return to the church’s dinner tonight but if anything happens you can call me” he assured the Ackerman siblings before reluctantly leaving.
“He is such a nice man” Kuchel quietly said once Kenny had closed the door “I know I bother you with it, but I really think he would be a good match”
Kenny smiled a little, sitting beside his sister on the couch and softly shoving her with his shoulder.
“I know, but I really don’t feel ready right now”
Love was not something he thought was possible. Not for him, much like it wasn't for his sister. He felt her hand on his forearm, rubbing him softly.
“I know, take your time” she said in a hushed tone “like I said, he is a very patient man”
Her calm features soon contorted into painful ones. She let a long breath out.
“Another contraction?” he asked.
She nodded, breathing in and out in a slow rhythm.
“It never really stopped, but I did not want to alarm any of you until I was sure it was constant”
“Kuchel! What the actual fuck-”
“Shhhhh” she said “don’t scold me! I am counting them and I can’t do this if both of you keep hovering over me”
Kenny groaned, visualizing himself shaving her hair bald as revenge for the rollercoaster of worry he felt.
“Do you think it’s for real?” he asked her.
Kuchel nodded, holding his forearm strongly.
“I’m scared” she whispered “I don’t know if I can do this, Ken”
Despite his anxiety, he tried to comfort her by holding her shoulders in a strange side hug - typical of a touch terrified Kenny. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“I’ll be with you, Kuch”
And he did. When her contractions became too unbearable and close timing, they left for the hospital in the midst of a starting rain. The streets were calm since it was late at night, everyone most likely at the churches celebrating the holiday.
“Ma’am, my sister is giving birth” he had told the woman at the front desk.
“No father, I’m the one taking care of her” he told the social worker registering the appointment.
“Can you call another doctor then?” he almost yelled when they informed her doctor was MIA.
“Can anyone please check on her for god’s sake?!” he tried to stay calm when nobody would check on his sister when her water broke.
It was a turbulent three hours, time bringing a raging storm that occasionally painted the sky with lightning and thunder. When Kuchel was finally checked on, she was fully ready to push. Kenny was a strong man, but he wanted to die with every scream coming out of his sister’s throat. His hand was still, only because of the iron grip she had on it, otherwise he would be trembling. When the cry of a baby finally broke the room’s chaos, Kenny thought he had lost his hearing. Everything had gone muffled and fuzzy. He did not know, but later the nurses told him that he was almost hyperventilating, still holding Kuchel’s hand despite his eyes losing focus.
“Look at him, Kenny” Kuchel was crying “he is so small”
The baby laying on her chest was nothing like the grown infant of his dream, in fact, that newborn was multiple shades of red and purple, scrunched face and tiny feet, limbs so thin they could be compared to the girth of Kenny’s fingers.
“Sir, breathe in and out, you’ll be fine” said a nurse nearby.
He kept his eyes on the small being, then at his sister. She was sweaty, exhausted and crying profusely. He wanted her cries to be only of happiness, but he knew she was just as terrified of this as he was. They were just two adults with a fucked up story, having to care for a non planned baby. He was barely 25 and had an entire human to watch out for - because he sure would not leave Kuchel to deal with this on her own.
“Welcome, spawn. I’m your uncle” he managed to choke out.
Kuchel laughed, more because of the drugs than actually finding the nickname funny. He spent the entire night watching over a sleeping sister and the baby in the bassinet. He admired as the storm raged in the first hours of the morning, the darkness still outside. His cellphone would occasionally ring with notifications.
Uri Reiss neighbor: I got stuck because of the rain, the streets are flooded. I’ll get there, I promise, but it might take a while. Tell me what I can bring to you or Kuchel.
He smiled at the phone, sending Uri his gratitude. Despite the chaos outside, he felt a strange sense of peace. Maybe it was the medication the nurses administered due to his mini anxiety attack, but he liked to think it was a sign that everything would be alright.
“How are you feeling?” said the slurred voice of Kuchel.
“I should be asking this”
“Well, I'm a bit high” she smiled “and you seem too”
He chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Kuchel looked at the bassinet, warmth in her tired eyes.
“He is out…”
“On a holiday!” Kenny complemented “spawn made sure to be born at the same day of Jesus”
“Fuck you” she laughed “I think he came to force us to celebrate christmas day in a way or another”
Kenny nodded, not doubting for a moment that whatever ruled this world had a strange sense of humor.
“He was almost born on the 26th for just a few minutes” he said “he was determined”
The Ackerman siblings kept the comfortable silence, Kuchel not taking her eyes off the sleeping baby nearby.
“Kenny”
“Hm?”
He looked at her tired eyes, Kenny realizing they were so similar to the baby of his dream.
“I don’t have a name for him”
“You were never satisfied with the thousand names you picked” he replied.
“Maybe something with a ‘K’? To match us” she said.
“That’s horrendous, Kuchel!” he protested “Me and you having a name with a ‘K’ is already atrocious enough”
“You’re right…” she said “I want something that doesn’t come from parents we barely knew”
Kenny deliberated if he should tell her about the name of his dream. Levi…he remembered something about that name in bible study he was forced into by the orphanage. It meant something specific, meant-
“Connection”
Kuchel eyed him as if he had lost his mind.
“Kenny, if this is your suggestion-”
“No, woman, listen!” he interrupted “I mean that he is connected to us only. Your kid, my nephew, nothing else”
“Well, that’s true”
“And Levi means connected, joined” He finally said it.
Kuchel pondered for a moment, analyzing the name by looking at the child’s sleeping shape.
“A biblical name, right? I remember it from church” Kuchel said.
“It’s just a suggestion-”
“I like it” she interrupted this time “Levi. It sounds firm, strong”
She smiled, as if contemplating calling him that for the rest of his life. Kenny thought she would put up a fight - for being the one to carry for months and not choosing the name.
“Levi it is” she concluded.
Kenny nodded, happy that she liked it. He did not know if his dream was prophetic or just an amalgamation of anxiety and nine months of constantly thinking about this other being in their lives.
“Can I ask you something really important?”
He nodded.
“He was born on Christmas” she began “I know we never really liked this day because of all the family bullshit, but now…”
He understood. They were bitter people, but that kid had nothing to do with it.
“We’re gonna give him the Christmas we never had, right Kenny?”
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TO ALL YOUR PCs
Would you love me if i was a worm🥺🥺🥺
Imagine if all my PCs just said, "Ew no." 🤣
Jas the Wildcard
"How would you even- Wait, with this town that honestly might happen..." Jas muttered to herself, then paused to sharply look at you. "You aren't turning into a worm, are you?!"
She grips your chin to turn your head side to side, trying to find some mark you've been cursed or that you're becoming less human. She relaxed a bit when you looked the same as usual.
"A theoretical question?" Jas repeated, eyes taking on a mischievous gleam as she leaned more into your space with none of the earlier concern. "Hmm. I think you'd make a cute worm pet~ So I'll be sure to love worm you plenty~"
Hunter the Allrounder
"You'll probably become an earthworm, right?" Hunter asked, but the words don't seem directed to you. In fact, Hunter seemed to be dissecting you with his eyes, looking so deeply into you that you felt exposed.
"Earthworms are so useful... You could improve the soil fertility, hell, you'd improve the soil texture as an earthworm. Grinding all the useless shit within your body and turning it to literal but useful shit for the plants..." Hunter put his hand to his mouth as he's his mind whirled, "I can't bring you to the farm, that would be too dangerous. Too many things that would try kill you, and I doubt one worm could do much to a whole field... But the garden... I can watch over you to ensure nothing happens, and you can help me grow shit.
"It's perfect!"
...
"Yeah, I'd love you as a worm," Hunter told you with a lazy grin, as if he didn't spend the last minute detailing how beneficial you'd be as a worm...
You had a feeling that living life as a worm with Hunter would be tiring.
Celeste the Righteous
Celeste blinked at your question, mouth agape. The confusion and wonderment are both profound in her face.
"A... Worm," Celeste stated more than questioned. She stared at you in silence in seeming judgment, letting the tension drag on.
...
...
...
"Oh," the girl finally noticed how uncomfortable you've gotten in her presence, "sorry. I was trying to figure out if I'd get an urge to ea- ah."
Celeste jerked and held her book in front of her face, not that it hid how pink she turned all the way up to her ears. She mumbled something that sounded vaguely like, "You heard nothing."
"...Anyways, I'd do my best to turn you back to human. Worms live 10 years at best and some only live for 2 years... I have no intention on letting you die...
"... Also, did you know that all worms are hermaphrodites? So they can all breed with each other- ... If you turn into a worm, I'll make you an enclosed ecosystem so you can sustain yourself in my room. I promise I won't let you breed with other worms."
...
"Ah, I didn't answer the question. I... I would love you even as a worm, but I prefer you to stay human."
Maeve the Trap
Maeve, despite his best efforts, grimaced.
"Ah, I, I, sorry! I just... I... Well... Ireallydontlikewormtheyareweirdandwigglyandnotinafunway-" Maeve inhaled desperately after getting all that out, but then slapped his own mouth horrified he said that all out loud.
Maybe you didn't understand his word vomit?
Hopefully?
"But! But I really like you! Lots!" Maeve stressed, panic shinning through his eyes while arms flailing to express just how much he likes you, "I'll get used to you being a worm! P-promise! I will... I will get around to touching worms for you! I'm adaptable! So... So please stay with me even as a worm..."
Maeve grabbed a handful of his hair, tugging it in an obvious, anxious gesture. He wanted to smack himself. He is saying he'll get used to touching you? How would anyone feel appreciated with that?!
"I-I'll get you lot of yummy food... There's no way I'll let you eat dirt... And make a comfy place for you to sleep. I'll... I'll also pretty you up best I can. Just cause you're a worm doesn't mean you can't be gorgeous! I'll make you the most pampered worm! ...I love you no matter what..."
#degrees of lewdity#dol#dol pc#jas the wildcard#hunter the allrounder#celeste the righteous#maeve the trap#t1thi#hi love! I hope you've been well!#❤️
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@wildskissed cont.
The promise, even if he wasn't that confident in it coming to pass, was noted with further furrowed shoulders that he shoved forwards stubborn as a cart horse refusing it's load out of her grip each time she said something off key, and threatening him with both a good and bad time given the order of events that would surely follow some busy bodies in the camp getting a gander at a mouth shaped bruise on his neck that matched hers in outline, definitely counted as one of those times. Perhaps it was better she had taken up her cause from behind, he thought, considering the heat still hung from the top ends of his cheekbones. Less of a chance for her to see just how much she was succeeding in utterly frustrating him aside from the disgruntled huffs and snorts he'd issue periodically. "Not that you're not already a pain up the neck- but...we could all do without the whole throat tonguin' thing with that other bastard what comes round with 'is ugly upside-down tusks." It was hardly a secret to who he referred. And he found that just having mentioned him helped harden the lines along his shoulder's sternly set line.
Stiff as he was, her hands upon the resting place of his reminders to always keep his brother's safety seriously enough to draw raised eyebrows at times, was enough to send a shivered disturbance through the half-orc's spine. All through the process of entertaining her (unwise of him though it was-) he'd forgotten that peeling his shirt away and granting access to his back held with it the potential and certainly uncomfortable conversation about why part of him looked run through the meat grinder. It's with his lip pinned under the pensive weight of his tusks dug in enough to draw blood from chapped lips that he realized that was never his intention for her- certainly not why he'd come by that night after one too many flirty dares and provocative claims that he was simply too scared to be caught alone with her. Well, 'scared' wasn't the proper term for what he felt once she'd had her fill of the sorry sight, but he couldn't deny how the height in his shoulders fell afterwards.
It was the feeling of her lips dragged carefully along the crestfallen slopes that invited yet another sound from him, only it sounded more akin to a low groan opposed to his usual huffs. He broke the quiet exchange with a "...actin' like there's not a myriad of ammo to be used against you al'ready. I shouldn't know where to put more-"
Of course the tadpole had something to ay- or rather feel about that choice of words, and a brief flash of an image in his head- of his splotched hands grasping her hips to hold her against him caused his breath to hitch for a moment before he knocked the thought provoking worm around with a harsh as it was quick shake of the head. Gods...they were all hopeless with the things nestled in and exploiting every passing thought he wouldn't dare linger on for the paranoia that all could actually see them; well- in this case, there was no telling what other worm carriers could perceive from others like them. And despite his bet efforts to stare firmly ahead as she continued her attempts at soothing the highest pair of high-strung shoulders, he shifted- suddenly uncomfortable with the way his legs crossed over each other upon the tent floor as he squeezed his ankles and curled over his own lap with eyes half-wrenched shut as her wistful words found the back of his ear.
A hard swallow helped his concentration enough to still long enough for her suggestion to sink in, and he found himself nodding, albeit with some hesitance in a sour gaze spread wearily around the tent. "...if there is some spot to lie in here...you should direct me to the area that's yet to have been subjected to your latest..." A nose wrinkled as he jutted his jaw towards the discorded erotica she'd yet to really explain beyond never looking a gift horse in the mouth. "...hobby." With that said, he shifted around cautiously as if to warn her that he was leaning back on his hands now and that if she didn't want to get partially trapped beneath, that she should adjust to sit beside him instead of behind, much as he paused to tip his head in to the teasing tone. "Does anybody really need anything? Ya live by makin' due without-"
#//just squinting around tent like-...is it even safe to lay down here what if i hit a sticky spot-sdklf;sf#nsft themed#wildskissed#suggestive cw#long post
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Hello how are you doing?
I was wondering if you could tell us more about Boba Mand'alor or if you had some recommendations like comics or books about that? I'm sorry if it's been asked before I didn't find it
Thank you in advance!!
i'm doing well, thank you! better, now that i've received this ask :D mand'alor!boba is one of my fave bits of the expanded universe; honestly, i wish they'd done more with him! as it stands, the story arc is only really explored in the novella boba fett: a practical man and the legacy of the force series of novels, but it's still quite rich in terms of character exploration and development. lemme give y'all a break down:
to start, boba did not become mand'alor by choice. y'see, the mand'alor before boba was a mandalorian by the name of fenn shysa. though he was mand'alor, shysa was a staunch believer that the title should instead sit with an heir of jango fett. shysa knew that as the last mand'alor of the true mandalorians and a fearsome warrior who gave even the jedi a run for their money, jango could be a potent symbol to rally for the renewal of the mandalorian people—and thus, so could his heir.
unfortunately, jango's heir is none other than boba fett who, at that moment (post-OT) was [checks notes] hunting mand'alor fenn shysa at the behest of his former kaminoan baby sitter taun we, who wanted revenge on the mandalorians for an attack they'd carried out against kamino some years before.
details are a little bit sparse about the exact order of events when boba eventually found shysa, but suffice to say that things did not go as anyone expected. for one thing, boba didn't end up collecting the bounty on shysa—instead he and shysa somehow ended up on the same side against a rival mercenary group that threatened to overrun them. during the battle, shysa was critically wounded protecting boba from said mercenaries and, knowing that boba wouldn't be able to escape while dragging him along, urged boba to grant him a quick death and take up the mantle of mand'alor in his stead. boba was, to put it mildly, less than enthused about this proposition. however, he couldn't bear to leave shysa to be captured and likely tortured to death, and so granted him a coup de grace and honored his dying request.
so now we have the absolutely delicious juxtaposition of boba fett, a man whose connection to his mandalorian heritage is fraught at best, more-or-less forced into being the commander-in-chief of the mandalorian people. and it's as awkward as one would expect. it seems that most (though not all) mandalorians accepted boba's account that he hadn't purposefully deposed shysa (likely bc shysa wasn't exactly quiet about wanting boba on the throne) but the general reaction to him seemed to be, "you're not one of us. but you're a useful symbol, so we'll let you stay where you are."
boba himself likens it to being stranded in "no-mans-land—too Mando for the outsider but not Mando enough for some of the clans"
on the flip-side of the coin, you have mandalorians who tell him shit like, "well, thank the stars you finally came to your senses; this was always your purpose, you know that, right?" which actually makes him angrier and more uncomfortable than the former reaction, for reasons he himself doesn't fully understand.
something something don't imply to the clone-who-pretends-he's-not-a-clone that he was made with a purpose other than sonhood mkay
despite this tension, boba finds himself, to his own bewilderment, developing a sense of responsibility for the mandalorians he comes into contact with. he wants to look after and protect them. he starts thinking in terms of "we" and "us." and he becomes coldly, viciously enraged when they're threatened.
...which happens pretty dang quickly when the yuuzhan vong invade.
look, the yuuzhan vong are a whole other can of worms, but i'll sum up the best i can by saying that they're an extragalactic race of bio-engineered, self-mutilating torture-slavers who think the gffa deserves to be genocided for the crime of developing combustion engines. it's like fucking hellraiser invades the gffa, idk what else to say.
ANYWAY, these dudes are preparing to invade and, after learning that the mandalorians are the galaxy's ultimate mercenary assholes, invites boba (and his friend beviin) to a meeting to discuss, oh, you know, betraying the gffa to the vong in exchange for not torture-enslaving the mandalorians.
and the vong are like "oh, btw, here's some random prisoner we'll torture-enslave in front of you :) just to give you an illustration :) of how seriously you should take our offer of mercy :)"
and boba, knowing that they're lying, and inwardly seething at their veiled threats toward the mandalorians, calmly answers, "based on [your promise], we have a deal."
translation: "we're gonna fuck you up"
(boba has a thing about sticking to his word, so by phrasing his assent like that, he can justify backstabbing the vong. basically, "i am making a promise based on your promise, but bc your promise is bullshit, mine is too")
the mandalorians then spend a good chunk of the war playing the villains, pretending to be fighting for the vong while in reality, they're siphoning key intel back to the new republic to bring about the vong's defeat.
though the mandalorians' sabotage plays a key role in turning the tide of the war against the vong, it isn't without a cost. the vong, eventually realizing the mandalorians' betrayal, wreak terrible vengeance on mandalore, indiscrimimately bombing the planet and mass-poisoning the soil. one could think of this as a parallel to the glassing of mandalore in new canon. mandalore was already in bad shape due to imperial strip mining and the vong's retribution leaves the planet barely habitable.
also, in the aftermath of the war, mandalore doesn't receive any reconstruction aid from the new republic bc fuck them i guess
things are bleak for the mandalorians. they're short on credits and, unable to grow anything from the planet's poisoned soil, they're forced to rely on importing food to sustain themselves, further draining what little communal funds they have.
after talking things over with his fellow mandalorians (see: occasionally interjecting while they yell at each other in a crowded bar) boba decides on a few key policies going forward:
1) as a group, the mandalorians stay neutral in the new republic's ongoing wars. mandos are already an endangered species at this point and they don't need to invite any of that smoke back to mandalore itself.
2) any individual mandalorian is free to sell their services to whatever side they want, as long as they don't do it in the name of mandalore itself. times are tough and people need credits. boba won't begrudge them that.
3) any mandalorians living in diaspora, consider yourselves officially invited home. you show up, you get land, but you gotta pitch in to restore it.
4) until things are stable, those mandalorians with the means (see: boba and the chief of mandalmotors) use their own funds to keep importing food for folks until enough land is restored to make the planet once again self-sufficient
these policies are well-received and morale is significantly improved when said land restoration leads to the discovery of a huge motherlode of subsurface beskar, unearthed by the vong's indiscriminate bombing.
cue mandalmotors going balls-to-the-walls insane and making beskar starfighters. boba is, for once in his fucking life, absolutely delighted by this development.
no seriously, they offer him a chance to test-fly one and it's probably the only time i can recall in his adulthood that he actually grins.
anyway, the restoration of mandalore proceeds at pace under boba's leadership. most of the next book is dedicated to fett family drama with a side of jedi cultural exchange and the book after that sucks so bad that i don't acknowledge its existence. so here ends my hopefully interesting account of the reign of mand'alor boba!
#boba fett#boba fett meta#kind of obsessed with the way the development of mandalore reflects boba's own journey#stripped of its identity honor and goodness by years of laboring (truly or not) under wicked regimes#thought to be utterly poisoned and inhospitable#yet still able to shock everyone with what still lies under the surface#i guess there's a reason the words ''mand'alor'' and ''mandalore'' are used interchangeably in these books lol
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Jealousy [Lelouch x Reader]
Summary: You love Zero, Lelouch loves you. Lelouch is Zero, and you are none the wiser.
Genre: Fluff, Angst
Date: August 10, 2014
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“S-sir?
A meek voice echoed through the storage room, seeking the leader of the black knights.
Lelouch blinked from behind his mask and looked away from some paperwork, wondering who had confronted him.
Could it possibly be...?
Yes.
Of course it was.
There you stood, fiddling with your hair and cheeks tinged pink, avoiding eye contact with your leader. Yes, as much as Lelouch had tried to convince you otherwise, you had become a member of the Black Knights.
‘The problem is that Lelouch had tried to tell her, and not “Zero”’ Lelouch thought, aggravated.
Lelouch recalled a particularly bad day in school; his identity was almost revealed by a mere cat, and after he had expended his energy into chasing the rotten animal, he nearly fell off of the school roof.
So when you told him about your intention to join the Black Knights, he was anything but happy.
Perhaps he had taken it a tad too far, because he could still remember how bitterly you had reacted after he told you to “get a hold of yourself;” that “a dangerous job like being a Black Knight was not meant for delusional fangirls like yourself.”
Looking back now, he wished he had just taken his anger elsewhere.
“What do you know about me, Lelouch?” You snarled, stepping away from him.
“Just because you knew me since childhood doesn't mean that you can judge my feelings toward Zero! You have no right to call me delusional-”
“-Yes I do!” Lelouch narrowed his violet eyes, glaring a hole into your skull, “How can you say you love him if you've never even met him before? You’re risking your life for someone who will reject your feelings!”
He watched as you froze and cast your eyes downward, red flooded your cheeks.
“Yeah, Lelouch, is that what you think? That he's going to reject my feelings?” You ask, looking up at him, eyes shining with sorrow. “Well, that’s alright. He wouldn’t be the first time I was rejected, right?”
Lelouch’s eyes widened slightly in disbelief; were you still hung up about that?
"I'll be going now." You say, turning away from him.
He wanted to reach out and stop you, but he didn't. He couldn't.
He could lead an army and take down several nightmares with a single command, but he didn’t have the fortitude to stop a girl from leaving a room. Pathetic.
Footsteps.
Door.
"Click."
Then silence.
Lelouch heaved a small sigh behind his mask and turned his body to face you.
"What is it, soldier?"
You winced at his words and shifted uncomfortably, pink turning to red on your cheeks
"W-well, sir, I've been wondering about something..."
Lelouch's purple eyes watched your face turn varying shades of red, scowling.
Why didn't you act this way around him at school? Why did you blush and fidget in front of him now, when he was under a different name and a different life? Was the normal Lelouch missing something?!
No… You had done this, but not anymore.
Lelouch was touched. You had fallen for him twice, if that wasn’t love, then he didn’t know what was. Regrettably, he couldn’t accept your feelings, especially not here- not with this side of him.
"Uhm..." You diverted your gaze from him, instead deciding to stare at an empty crate. "I've been wondering why you call me 'soldier' all the time, sir."
Lelouch raised an eyebrow, which you couldn't see, of course.
"Are implying that you not one of my loyal soldiers?"
You quickly scrambled to defend yourself, "N-no sir! It's just that... That you call the other Black Knights by their real names, and- and-"
You bit your lip and looked down at your shoes, feeling quite stupid for bringing up such a mundane question.
"I'm sorry, sir. Never mind."
Your cheeks were lit aflame. You were talking to Zero one-on-one at last, but you had only made a fool of yourself. Why would he call you soldier? Because you were a soldier, of course! Such idiotic questions... What kind of answer were you anticipating?
"And you?"
You blinked stupidly, taken by surprise. "Huh? Me?"
Zero continued, standing up and leaning against a large crate next to him. "Why do you call me 'sir,' and not Zero?"
He recalled how you said Zero's name in his presence at school. You spoke it with awe, respect, and sometimes, to his chagrin: love.
The name "Zero" never failed to pull compliments and praises from your lips- and although Lelouch should have been feeling pretty darn good about that- dammit all! That was not how it was supposed to be!
You were supposed to love him, Lelouch! Not his alter-ego!
He watched as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, tempting him to claim those lips as his.
How long has he been waiting for a kiss from you?
A week?
A month?
A year?
Goodness, who knew? He lost count a long time ago.
Ever since he had declinced your romantic advancements in school, he found himself getting interested in you as well- a bit more than he was comfortable with.
However, as anyone who was rejected would do, you were slowly getting over Lelouch. Unfortunately for the boy, your confesion had only ignited his interest in you- and it was swallowing him whole.
What had caused your fondness of him? Why would you approach him about such a trivial topic? You couldn’t have found out about his true identity, right?
At first, it was just these factual questions; nothing that would harm anyone. But in due time, he began wondering how you would react in certain situations.
What would she do if I told her that I liked her as well?
How would she react if I hugged her?
Held her hand?
Kissed her?
Soon, he found himself thinking of you whenever he was able to; whether it be in class, while doing his homework, or during Student Council meetings. His curiosity had developed into a near obsession- or dare he say, an attraction.
Lelouch had managed to suppress thoughts of you while he was with the Black Knights, and thank goodness for that. He couldn’t imagine the chaos that would ensue if you managed to worm your way into his mind, then.
But now…
There you stood, twiddling your fingers and chewing your goddamn lip in front of him.
Lelouch couldn’t deny it.
He wanted you, and he always got what he wanted… Just not like this. He didn’t want it like this.
He couldn’t have you interferring with his plans to destroy Britannia, and he definitely didn’t want you to love Zero.
In order to prevent any kind of intimacy between you and his alter-ego, he began referring to you as “soldier” instead of by your name. But damn it all to hell if it worked, because it didn’t.
Each time he called you “soldier”and you called him “sir,” the tension between you two would double, and triple, and exponentially rise, driving him to the brink of absolute madness.
You distanced yourself from Lelouch at school, and he knew that you were trying your best not to make things awkward between the two of you- he knew that you were trying to move on, but the more you pulled away from him, the less he wanted to let go.
What was there to move on from, if he loved you back?
Before he had a chance to recalculate his relationship with you, you had managed to slip out of his grasp… And right back in.
Unbeknownst to you, you had fallen head-over heels for the same person twice. But this time, oh, this time, it was so much stronger.
Your feelings of love, admiration and respect had mixed into one unidentifiable goop of emotion that was directed toward the leader of the Black Knights.
And as if the world wasn't enough of a paradox, Lelouch found himself jealous of… Himself.
His geass couldn’t help him here. He had sat down one day, completely weighed down by your flurry of emotions as well as his own.
He was desperate for the tensions between you two to stop, and although he was ashamed of it now, he had written out a list of commands he could use to make you love him, and not Zero.
Of course, it was in vain.
He was Zero, and Zero was him. They were one and the same person, no matter how much Lelouch wished it wasn’t true. A single command would either make you hate Lelouch and Zero, or worse- love both at the same time.
In the past month, Lelouch’s jumbled thoughts brewed faster and faster inside of his mind, whipping up into a horrible storm, and he had no one else to blame but you.
What in the hell had you done to him?
“That-” You say, yanking him out of his exasperating thoughts, “That would be inappropriate.”
Lelouch took a moment to recollect his thoughts. Oh, right. He had asked you a question.
“Tell me,” He said, his voice coming out raspily from behind his mask, “What makes you think that calling me ‘Zero’ would be inappropriate?”
“W-well,” You stuttered, “I’ve only known you for a year, sir.”
“A lot of things aren’t necessarily appropriate, are they?” Lelouch asked, ignoring your answer, “Because of their morals, humans cage themselves into a dead end. Wouldn't it be easier to forget them all and break free?”
Break free…
“I guess so…” You mumble, looking at your shoes modestly.
“_______,” Lelouch tasted your name on his tongue, enjoying the sweet, yet acerbic taste it left in his mouth, “You say you’ve known me, Zero, for a year, correct?”
You answered, surprised that he even knew your name. “Yes, sir- Erm, Zero…” You blushed upon saying the name, much to Lelouch’s distaste.
He ignored it. That’s all that he could do, for now.
Suddenly, you heard a loud “BAM!”
The sound was harsh, and it grated upon your ears, echoing within the closed space that both Zero and you had occupied.
You flinched and closed your eyes, preparing for the worst.
When nothing came, you pried your eyes open, stunned to see one of Zero’s arms against the wall next to you, caging your body with his.
With his other hand, he calmly pressed a button on the side of his mask.
You stood, bewildered and astonished as you heard the whirring of gears, signalling the retraction of the back of his mask.
“Z-Zero- what are you-!”
“Humor me, _______.” He cut you off, “Is one year enough time to fall in love?”
Because I've known you my whole life...
“O-one year… One year can do a lot…” You gulped, watching as Zero adjusted his mask to show his mouth.
“Then, hell.” He whispered, leaning into your lips, “I must be completely infatuated.”
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Recognition
@aspecarchivesweek Day Five: Something New
Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Season One
In which Jon and Martin are more alike than they thought.
Jon, in spite of himself, was starting to get used to Martin living in the Archives.
Offering him shelter had been almost instinctual- after listening to his story, who wouldn’t? Terrorized for almost two weeks and no one, no one noticed. There was also the matter of Jon’s guilt; Martin thought he needed to put himself in danger to be thorough, to please Jon, and now he was homeless. Jon owed him this at the very least. No matter how much Elias disapproved of the situation.
And despite the occasional trouser-less wanderings, his presence was...appreciated. Late nights in the Archives were wearing him down: the statements were getting to him, and the unshakeable feeling of being watched when he knew he was alone was putting him on edge. Now he can blame that feeling on Martin, who he’d caught staring on more than one occasion. Jon was not surprised; he hadn’t been looking or feeling his best, highly unprofessional with his three-day stubble and rumpled clothes. Not a good look.
He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t enjoy the cup of tea when Martin joined him in his worst bouts of insomnia. He would sit on the tiny couch in his office, nursing his own mug and chattering away in a low tone that Jon was starting to find soothing instead of irritating. At first Jon clammed up, uncomfortable with the sudden intrusion on his late night routine, but he soon found Martin didn’t expect him to respond or contribute, save the occasional grunt of acknowledgement. Sometimes Jon even craved the company, the familiar rhythms of Martin’s voice had become an unconscious comfort.
Tonight he was looking particularly exhausted, slumped in his seat with deep purple bags under his eyes. It sent an unwelcome pang through Jon’s chest; Martin should be sleeping, not entertaining him because he chose to stay late. He said as much.
“You don’t have to stay up on my part.”
“Hm?” Martin looked up from his lap, eyes finding Jon’s. “Oh, no. It’s fine. I like the company, to be honest. Unless…?”
“I don’t mind,” Jon assured him. Shockingly, he found he meant it. Still, it didn’t ease his guilt. Martin was always here, never leaving the Archives for more than an hour to get food or other necessities. He considered his next words. “That being said, I hope you know you’re allowed to have a life outside of the institute. I won’t judge if you want to have a...late night, or go out. It’s not my business what you do in your free time.”
Martin squinted his eyes as if he didn’t understand the words Jon spoke. Christ, do I really seem that out of touch? He knew he could be severe and well, a bit of an ass at times. The stress of the job got to him more than he cared to admit. But he didn’t want his assistants to think they should follow his example. He was Head Archivist, it fell on his shoulders to get this place in some semblance of order.
“I’m not really one for nights out, Jon,” Martin gave that familiar, self-deprecating laugh as he leaned back in his chair, an almost defeated-like set to his shoulders. “Well, besides the occasional drink with Tim and Sasha. And even those are sort of...I don’t know. They have their own thing going, and I feel like-”
“A bit of an outsider,” Jon provided before he could activate his ‘word to mouth’ filter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply-”
“No,” Martin cut him off. “You’re right. Feels like I’m intruding.”
“Their banter can be overwhelming for the, ah, uninitiated.” On the few times he’d gone out with them in research, he’d felt more lonely than included. His awkward attempts at interjecting could make a conversation fall flat and he felt the need to accept every drink they handed in him the hopes of ‘loosening up.’ It never worked. They were never mean about it, no- or at least had the decency not to do it in his presence.
“Tell me about it.” Martin gave Jon a tiny little smirk that sent his heart stuttering in his chest for no particular reason. “I’m used to it, is all. This isn’t much of a change in routine, worms notwithstanding.”
“You, er, don’t have friends you can meet up with? Or maybe a partner?” Christ, why am I prying? What’s gotten into me? Jon felt curious, the man practically lived with him and yet he barely knew him.
The bark of laughter he got in reply was sudden and more than self-deprecating. “A partner? Are you kidding me?” Martin’s tone threw him off-balance; it was jaded, bitter, not like him at all.
“I didn’t mean to pry-”
“No, it’s- to be frank, I don’t think I’m cut out for all that.” Martin toyed with the mug in his hands, gazing into it like it held the answers he needed. “I’ve uh, tried to go on a few dates, meet people, that sort of thing. But they all expect something at the end and it just never feels right, I can’t explain it. Like there’s something missing. ”
Jon paused; the words and their sentiment were not unfamiliar to him. In fact, they resonated quite deeply, if Martin meant what Jon thought he did.
“It’s always been that way- I get a crush, I get to know them, they want to, y’know, and I-I don’t know what's wrong with me, but I can’t-” He cut himself off, sitting up straighter as if suddenly remembering where he was and who he was talking to. “God, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this-”
“It’s fine.” And it was. Martin looked at his hands and Jon recognized the sadness in the set of his shoulders, the lines etched in his face. He never thought the two of them would have much in common but that- that was a feeling Jon knew all too well. “I think I understand what you’re getting at.”
Martin somehow managed to deflate even further, curling up as if trying to disappear. “Yeah, well- I think it’s time to admit that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life.”
The words hit Jon harder than expected. His fists tightened in his lap; he was sixteen again, wondering why the kiss he stole in a backroom felt more invasive than intimate. He was reading romance novels, understanding the words but not the feelings they were supposed to invoke. He was in college, being called a ‘tease’ or a ‘prude’ when he pulled away at the end of the night. And it was all accompanied by that deep, crushing fear that he’d never be enough.
No, you’re not that kid anymore.
And Martin shouldn’t have to be either.
“What’s that look for?”
He was drawn from his thoughts at Martin’s words, looking up from the scratched wood of his desk. “Sorry?”
“You’ve- you’ve got that look on your face, like you’re const- like you’re thinking really hard.”
Jon tried to think of a way to word his query delicately, but ‘delicacy’ had never been his strong suit, according to Georgie. Come to think of it, it was never hers either. “Have you ever considered that maybe- that you’re- you’re of the persuasion, that is-”
Martin shot him a deadpan look, unimpressed. “Yeah, I know I’m gay, Jon.”
“That’s not-” He sighed in frustration, fuming at his inability to communicate. “It’s okay to not feel that way. I never have. It’s normal.”
Martin blinked. “Sorry?”
“Asexuality, that is,” he said, finally managing to get out the words. “I was...in a similar position, I guess you could say. I didn’t feel the way you were ‘supposed’ to feel, like how all the books and TV shows describe it. Zero interest in anything sexual, and I thought...well, I thought something was wrong with me.” Jon felt a lump building in his throat, much to his horror. “But being able to put a name to it, an identity, it just felt right.” Martin’s face was unreadable- had he spoken out of turn? Did he have this all wrong?
He tried to clarify. “What I’m trying to say is that I know what it’s like, that...feeling you described. But it doesn’t mean you’re not cut out for love. You...you shouldn’t have to feel that way about yourself. You’ll find people who accept you. You’re not doomed to be lonely.” Now you’re just getting sentimental. Jon wasn’t one to dole out advice. He attempted to reign it in, get himself back on solid, familiar ground. “Maybe don’t take me for an example, though. I assure you, my isolation is very much self-imposed.”
Martin didn’t laugh. For a brief, panicky moment Jon thought he might have offended him, assumed the wrong thing, taken him out of context. But Martin met his eyes and Jon saw it- a look of dawning understanding, of comprehension and knowing and as much as Jon wanted to look away he couldn’t, because for the first time in a while he thought he might have said the right thing.
_____
He watched as Martin puttered about in the break room and took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. Martin hadn’t said much after their conversation, just thanked him in a choked voice and mumbled some excuse about going off to bed. Jon felt a bit conflicted- he now had time to ruminate on the conversation, pick it apart and wonder if he said anything wrong. He didn’t think he had, but his instincts had been proven wrong before.
Still, the thought of helping one person, sparing them from that crippling self-doubt and inadequacy, made any embarrassment or awkwardness well worth it. So here he was, shuffling his feet and holding a stack of paper, stapled and neat and in some cases, annotated. He cleared his throat and Martin turned away from the sink to face him.
“Oh, g-good morning, Jon.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel, throwing it lightly on the counter. “Did you sleep well?”
He’d gotten two hours tops on the lumpy couch in his office. I need to invest in another cot. But he nodded anyway, walking forward and thrusting the pile out for Martin to take. Martin looked down at it quizzically but took it all the same, his face softening as he flipped through the pages.
“I, um- I printed out some articles that I thought might be of interest,” Jon rambled, feeling more awkward by the second. Was this too forward of me? “I’ve always found it easier to read on paper instead of the screen. For ah, concentration purposes. This- this isn’t required reading, or anything. Just might be helpful for, uh, figuring things out.”
Martin didn’t look up from the pages in his hand, instead zeroing in on them with a more intense stare. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight with sincerity. “Thanks. It uh, it means a lot.”
“Yes,” Jon replied nonsensically, having no response to the emotion in Martin’s words. “You- you don’t need to talk to me about this, if you’d rather not. But I’m available if you’d like to.” He paused. Best to keep this somewhat professional- it was almost nine. “Outside of normal working hours, of course.”
“Of course,” Martin echoed, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he finally met Jon’s eyes. He fought down the urge to smile back, instead muttering an excuse and turning to flee the room. I think I’ve filled my emotional quota for the week.
They don’t talk about it again, but a few days later a sticky note appears on his desk. Thanks- MB. Underneath the clear script he’d doodled a small flag- black, grey, white, and purple.
Jon puts it in his right-hand drawer next to an old polaroid of the Admiral, where it stays.
ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782318
#my writing#aspecarchives#tma#the magnus archives#jonmartin#cw aphobia and internalized aphobia#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#asexual jonathan sims#asexual martin blackwood#jon helps martin figure out he's ace
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Good Omens but Make It Moceit (unfinished)
I said I would do it and I tried very, very hard but it's not looking like I'm going to be able to finish because ✨mental health reasons✨
Here's what I have so far (about 8k words)
EDEN
It is a little-known theological fact that the invention of the hypothetical coincided nearly perfectly with the invention of the thunderstorm, the latter being a rather effable invention of God, all things considered, and the former springing forth from the troubled mind of Phaedaël, the angel of the Eastern gate. The first drops of rain pattered to the ground and he curved one wing upward to protect his head. Addressing his companion, he said, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I should be talking to you."
"Oh, and what a shame," cooed the serpent, who hadn't yet chosen a name, "and here I was so hoping you'd wring the details out of me."
"Oh," said the angel, considering this. He shifted uncomfortably, and made a face like he'd just been forced to swallow something bitter. "Well… What did you say to her?"
"Don't patronize me," said the serpent. He paused. "I don't suppose you could enlighten me, angel, on what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil?"
"They broke the rules," said the angel firmly.
"I don't suppose it matters that the rule was arbitrary?" The angel drew in a breath to reply, but the serpent cut him off, looking him up and down suddenly as though seeing him for the first time. A sly smile tugged at his lips. "Lose something?"
"No!" said the angel, far too quickly.
"Oh, come on. Lying doesn't become an angel."
"It's not a lie!" the angel insisted.
"Well, then. Please do tell me what happened to that flaming sword of yours."
The rain began to fall in earnest. A thunderclap sounded overhead. The angel said, "What if you had an opportunity to help someone--"
"What if?" repeated the serpent incredulously.
"What if," persisted the angel, "someone could benefit from something you were supposed to have, but weren't really using?"
The serpent began to laugh. "Don't tell me you gave it--" he gestured into the distance-- "to them?" A few more hysterical cackles escaped his chest, but he swallowed the rest down at the anguished look on the angel's face. "Oh, relax. If you did it, it can't have been bad, can it? Angels don't do bad."
"And demons don't do good?" the angel looked at the serpent with uncertainty.
"Oh, yes," purred the serpent, "we're wicked to the core."
The angel went silent, considering this.
The thunder roared, the rain came down harder, the serpent remained, and the angel very gently lifted his other wing to keep his companion dry.
Who, after all, prayed for the Devil?
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
God (God)
Logan (Patton's overseer)
Satan (A Fallen Angel; The Fallen Angel, one might say)
Remus (Janus' overseer)
Janus (An angel who did not so much fall as back away muttering "I'm really going to do it this time; no one try to stop me")
Roman (a lover)
Virgil (an Antichrist)
Dog (hellhound, hellraiser, and sleeping partner)
21 YEARS AGO
In the Valendale Regional Military Cemetery lurked a demon.
Well, he lurked as best as he was able, given that the ambiance was all off for lurking. He had fudged the timing a little, being unaccustomed to the nature of the passage of time on Earth, and had accidentally arrived just in time to witness a beautiful sunrise over Florida's eastern coast. Half the sky was a magnificent golden ocean with waves of orange and pink. The military cemetery had also been a mistake, though this one bothered him less. While he had been hoping for something a little more ancient and decrepit, he soon began to console himself by playing hopscotch on the clean, flat grave markers, delighting in the muddy bootprints he left behind him.
Besides, he liked the way 'military cemetery' rolled off the tongue.
When he inevitably got bored of desecrating graves, he threw himself down in the grass and began to look for worms and bugs with which he might decorate his uniform.
This was Remus, a Duke of Hell.
He found a worm and began to speak to it, watching it writhe around in his palm. "I'm so bored."
He spent a good few seconds coming up with a voice to use to represent the worm, then asked himself in a high-pitched squeak, "Why's that, your
Grace?"
Remus cupped the worm in his hands and rolled over, nearly kicking the basket he'd brought with him. This bothered him less than it rightfully should have, considering what was inside. He only gave a blithe "Oops!" and returned his attention to the worm. "That little subordinate of mine is making me wait!"
The worm said, "You should punish him!"
"Good idea!" Remus exclaimed, stroking the worm with his fingertip. "What do you think, should I spank him? Make him kiss my boots? Or--" He cut himself off, having just caught sight of flashing red and blue lights in the near distance. Sirens had been echoing on and off throughout the night, but they were very near now. "There's my bitch!" he said with undisguised affection. He put the worm in his pocket and stood up.
The Interstate Highway System was ostensibly developed under the command of United States President Dwight D Eisenhower in order to facilitate the movement of personal use vehicles, public transportation vehicles, and self-propelled field artillery across the country. This project, as anyone who has ever attempted to traverse the Interstate Highway System can tell you, was a catastrophic failure. The criss-crossing network of freeways, highways, turnpikes, and byways is frequently backed up with bumper-to-bumper traffic.
What most hapless travelers of the Interstate Highway System do not know is that the cloverleaf interchange, one of the most commonly-used interchanges in city planning, is also the exact same shape as the sigil det in the written language of the Church of the Black Clock. Written correctly, it means "black fire upon my enemies, devour their souls!" (Note: Written incorrectly, it reads "kneel, gay men.") Every day, commuters slow traffic via their own ill-wishes on fellow drivers, granted life by the sigil. (It is a known fact that every driver on the freeway considers every other driver on the freeway an enemy).
It was one of Janus' most diabolical achievements. He was quite proud of himself, not only in the end result but in his methods. While a lesser demon might have had to go to the trouble of hands-on work: hacking computers, making bribes, and, Satan-forbid, possibly even sneaking out at night to move marker pegs by hand, all Janus had had to do was talk. He was quite good at getting people to do his bidding once he got his foot in the door.
Something Janus had inexplicably failed to account for was the fact that he, too, would occasionally need to use the freeway system. Such was the curse of Janus' great evil deeds: more often than not, they slalomed between his legs like a wily terrier and bit him squarely on the ass.
The irony snuck up on him sometimes.
Janus had dark hair and high cheekbones. His eyes and tongue were really only unusual if you looked at them twice, and he had a tendency to hiss when he forgot himself. He looked far too young, far too handsome, and far too svelte for the 1957 Cadillac Deville he was driving, bearing no resemblance at all to the sort of wealthy, elderly man who deals in classic cars.
He checked his watch, which also seemed too old for him, and glanced at the rearview mirror. Normally he enjoyed the minor thrill of having cops on his tail, but his exit was coming up and he did have someplace to be.
What he did next lacked imagination, but it got the job done: With one complicated hand gesture, he turned both officers into pigs and gently glided their cars to the shoulder. Then he turned on his blinker and took his exit.
Remus watched the police lights disappear with impassivity, bouncing on his toes. When Janus finally emerged through the wrought iron gates, having bent reality to get past them, he raised his arms and shouted, "Hail Satan!"
Janus acknowledged this with two lifted fingers. "So sorry I'm late," he said, bringing his hand smoothly upward to tip his hat, "it's just that I don't value your time in comparison to mine." The sarcastic inflection was so light the words could very well be sincere. But of course Janus always meant every word of what he'd said. (Now that's
sarcastic inflection)!
Remus gave a feral grin. Janus was his favorite subordinate. "Wanna see my worm?"
Millennia of acquaintanceship had freed Janus from the notion that he needed to be polite to Remus. The demon was as twisted as they came and nearly immune to flattery. "As much as I'd love to, shouldn't we get this over with?"
"Yeah, yeah." Remus looked around. "Hm, now where did I put the basket?"
The basket was currently sitting atop the headstone for a General T. Pratchett. Janus spied it first and indicated it to Remus with a flicker of his yellow irises, careful not to let a trace of his hesitancy show on his face. He didn't even let himself hesitate when Remus, who had hopscotched over to the basket and then back over to Janus, thrust it out to him.
"So this is really it," Janus murmured, wrapping both gloved hands around the handle of the basket. Then he began to work. "What a high honor."
"So they say," Remus said.
"Remus, be honest with me." Brief pause, just enough for Remus to wonder at the weight in Janus' voice. "Did you pull some strings to ensure I was the one who got this task? Do I owe you a favor?"
"Are you about to thank me?" Remus asked, tilting his head. Addressing the worm in his breast pocket, he said, "Listen up, this should be good."
"So you did?"
"Of course not."
Here it was. After a few seconds of rallying, his ace: "So why me?"
"You've been in the field the longest." Remus' grin widened to an impossible degree and he grabbed Janus by the lapels of his immaculate suit jacket, coming nose to nose. "Some of us think you're getting soft."
Janus smiled back, the unblinking predator's grin of a snake about to strike, and hefted the basket. "We'll see about that." And he extricated his lapels from Remus' grasp and turned to leave.
"You didn't say hi to my worm!" Remus called after him. Janus did not reply. Remus fished the worm out of his pocket. "How rude."
"The nerve of some demons," agreed the worm.
The Cadillac's speedometer hit 110. Janus fumbled for the volume knob with a shaking hand. The radio was permanently set to 98.5 The Jukebox, which only ever seemed to play Queen.
"Shit," Janus muttered as majestic panned harmonies began to emanate from his speakers. "Shit-shit-shit. Why now? Why me?"
BECAUSE, came the harmonic vocals, YOU'VE EARNED IT.
Janus bit down on his tongue to keep from swearing. Communication via electronics had been another one of his ideas, hoping he'd be issued a BlackBerry or a Nokia. But no. Instead, upper management just cut into whatever he was listening to at the time and twisted it. "Thank you very much, my lord," he said, working very very hard to instill his voice with the proper amount of unctuous ooze.
THIS IS IMPORTANT, JANUS.
"Yes, my lord."
THIS IS THE BIG ONE.
"Yes, my lord."
AND YOU UNDERSTAND, JANUS, THAT IF THIS GOES WRONG, EVERYONE INVOLVED WILL BE PUNISHED. EVEN YOU. ESPECIALLY YOU.
"I understand."
GOOD. YOUR INSTRUCTIONS.
And suddenly, he just knew. A new Queen song began to play on 98.5 The Jukebox, and Janus hissed and slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. "What was the point of all that, then?" he demanded of Freddie Mercury.
Freddie Mercury replied, "Don't stop me now! 'Cause I'm havin' a good time!"
Janus rolled his eyes and changed lanes without signaling. He had been instructed to head straight to a hospital on the edge of town. It was technically in an unincorporated community called Misty, but for all intents and purposes, Misty was Valendale. If he kept up this pace (the needle of the speedometer now closer to 130), he could be there in five minutes. Joy.
It had all been going so well, too. He'd really hit his stride in the 21st century, and now here was Hell pulling the rug out from under his shiny Armani brogues. Armageddon. What a nightmare.
In the Publix baking aisle, two angels stood side by side. One of them was Phaedaël, who had lately adopted the name 'Patton,' feeling it suited his corporation.
The other had been christened 'Loirea' once upon a time. As Heaven began to
modernize, Loirea had been the first among the angels to adapt to the changes being made. He had even taken on the name 'Logan' as a show of good faith.
Both of the angels were human-shaped, having discovered early on that it's much easier to get things done when you have limbs as opposed to flaming wheels of eyes and animal heads poking out at odd angles.
Both wore glasses. Patton's glasses were round, wire-rimmed things, of the sort usually found on kindly old librarians and stern but fair headmasters of all-boy's boarding schools. Logan's glasses were made of shiny black plastic and looked like they could draw blood if strategically applied to a sufficiently tender area.
Patton was, at the moment, holding a bag a semolina flour under one arm and awkwardly attempting to explain himself. "It's called 'cooking.' It's actually really clever, you take ingredients and combine them--"
"Why?" Logan interrupted
"Oh, uh, well," Patton hesitated, shamefaced, "it makes food."
"Eating," Logan said in such a forceful tone of dismissal that three boxes of brownie mix turned to ash behind him. "I don't understand why you waste your time."
"It helps me blend in," Patton said with a sheepish smile. Everything from his shoes to his shirt was a shade of white or blue; he'd never been comfortable dealing in gray areas.
"I see." Logan adjusted his tie. "Well, I'll let you get back to it in a moment. I just came to pass on a message: Our intel has given us reason to believe that Armageddon is underway."
"Oh," said Patton vaguely, staring at a bag of something labeled 'pasta flour.' "Oh!"
"We'd like for you to keep an eye on Janus. He's a demon; he's on a similar mission to yours."
"I, uh," Patton swallowed hard, staring right through the pasta flour, "I've heard of him."
"Good." Logan put his hand on Patton's shoulder and looked him dead in the eye. "Patton."
"Y-yes?"
"When I say 'keep an eye on' I mean I want you to watch him. It's a figure of speech."
Patton nodded, forcing his mouth to curve into a pale imitation of a smile. Logan nodded back and vanished.
"Well," Patton said to the pasta flour, "fiddlesticks."
Brother Emile Analogical had been raised a Satanist. There is no such thing as an orthodox Satanist, but if there was, that would be the kind of Satanism that Brother Emile's parents had practiced. He had graduated with unspectacular grades, joined the Paralleling Order of Saint Botild, and promptly moved from Nebraska to Florida: more specifically, to the unincorporated community of Misty in the greater Valendale area. The climate had taken some getting used to, not to mention the long, black robes he had to wear, but he had survived the transition and found himself a good fit for the Paralleling Order.
Note: Saint Botild Comminalitus of Malmö was reputed to have been martyred in the middle of the fifth century, for reasons unclear. It is said that the Lord granted him the power to draw parallels and connections between topics; his last words are reported to have been "This reminds me of that one story about Loptr, when he--" Then his assailants lit the pyre.
At the moment, Brother Emile was thinking about the tall, dark figure stalking down the hallways at him holding a basket, likening him to a Scooby-Doo villain, the way the shadows seemed to stick to him.
"Jinkies!" said Brother Emile once the figure was in earshot.
Janus raised an eyebrow at him over the tops of his sunglasses. "Hello."
Unphased by the cold greeting, Brother Emile pointed to the basket. "Is that the fairly odd baby?" he asked in a high-pitched coo that indicated he already suspected the answer.
"No," said Janus, rolling his eyes. "It's a basket of kittens I saved from drowning. Aren't you wondering why I'm all wet?"
"You're," Brother Emile started, and Janus braced himself, fearing the last frayed thread of his patience might snap if the sentence ended with the word 'dry,' "a Mister Grumpy Gills, aren't you?'
Janus thrust the basket at Brother Emile and did not dignify him with any answer more notable than a slight thinning of
his lips.
Brother Emile drew back the blankets and began to babble at the sleeping Antichrist. Janus took the opportunity to flee.
"Look at you," Brother Emile said happily. "Sleeping in a pic-a-nic basket, huh, Boo-boo?"
After a few more moments of cooing, babytalk, and Boomerang references, he remembered himself and found a wheeled bassinet for the baby Antichrist.
There is a game, common among carnies and street magicians in which a ball is hidden under cups and shuffled around. Unbeknownst to himself, the two sets of new parents, and all the friars at St Botild's, Brother Emile Analogical was about to become a mark.
And Hell had had nothing to do with it.
same rate, and good and evil had a knack for balancing themselves out in the grand scheme of things. And this left Janus and Patton free to pursue other passions, which somehow resulted in the two of them spending a great deal of time in each other's company.
silence. "It's not even that I disagree with you," he said apologetically. "It's just, well, you know, I'm not allowed to disobey."
his hazelnut hot chocolate. "What's a shame?"
Janus nodded. "Roman Dowling."
Roman was about to turn 21, and lived his life according to the belief that everyone over the age of 30 was, in some degree, an 'elder').
wanna do that."
"Roman!"
people; every social interaction, no matter how minor, always kept his body as tense as wire.
#sanders sides#moceit#this is a pastiche meaning it's not my usual writing style#basically i deliberately wrote in the style of pratchett/gaiman#just in case you were wondering lmao#anyway you can bug me about finishing it if the urge strikes you; i'm not one of those people who gets mad about stuff like that#it certainly won't hurt#i really do want to finish but at the moment im not really in a place where i feel like i can make art#spicypost#spicywrites#i guess i'll throw in some character tags#janus sanders#patton sanders#roman sanders#remus sanders#virgil sanders#logan sanders
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He Looks After You When You’re Overworking ~ BTS Reaction
Jin:
You jumped at the sight of a hand pressing to the top of your laptop, following it up you were met by Jin’s stare, shaking his head down at you as you pouted softly.
“What happened to you saying you were finished?” He asked, remembering your previous conversation.
Your shoulders shrugged innocently, “another email came in that I needed to reply to, and that just opened a can of worms to even more things I needed to do.”
“If you closed your laptop like you said you would then you would’ve never seen the emails,” he teased, trying to push the lid down.
“I can’t come off now when I’ve started all of this.”
He frowned, “you can, and you will, because you’re absolutely exhausted, you’re doing too much.”
“It’s not too much when it needs to be done,” you challenged, letting go of a heavy sigh. “If this isn’t done, do you know how much trouble I’ll be in?”
As much as he didn’t know, he wasn’t prepared to see you stress. “You’ll be in more trouble with me if you don’t come off from work and get some rest.”
“I’d like to see that, but I guess I should call it a day,” you whispered, closing it all down.
“Now, get some rest.”
Yoongi:
The smell of food hit you as soon as you heard the office door open, hearing Yoongi’s footsteps walk through the room until he appeared by your side.
“I thought you could do with a snack to get you through all of this,” he smiled, placing a takeout bag by the side of your paperwork.
You glanced appreciatively up at him, “I’ll eat it when I get a moment. Thank you for bringing me something, it’s exactly what I need right now.”
“Why don’t you eat now with me and take a break?” He suggested, sitting down beside you. “You need to take a moment away from your screen.”
“And I will when I get a moment to stop and eat something.”
His head shook, “Y/N, please just eat now, so I can make sure you look after yourself properly.”
“I’m doing alright,” you tried to assure him, but he could see straight through all of that. “You don’t need to worry about me, work isn’t even that bad.”
His shoulders dropped as he tried to listen to your defence, “I know you’re having a hard time; you really don’t need to pretend around me.”
“I’ll be alright,” you spoke, trying to force a smile onto your face.
“Just rest for now, please.”
Hoseok:
You peered down as Hobi tossed and turned in bed, opening his eyes to see you sat up with your head still flicking through the pages of your latest book for your assignment.
“Did your tutor tell you to read the whole thing tonight?” He asked, placing his lamp on too so he could see you properly.
Your head shook, checking quickly to see how far into the book you were. “No, we’ve got a week to read it all, I’d just much rather get it read now.”
“And I’d rather you try and get a bit of sleep tonight,” he argued, “you’re over halfway, and there’s still another day tomorrow, please.”
“But it’s such a good book, and it means I can get my assignment done sooner.”
He sighed, trying to take the book from you, “you’ll get nothing done without some sleep.”
“You really want me to stop, don’t you?” You asked, as his head solemnly nodded. “I guess I can put it down for now, there’s still plenty of time to read some more.”
He smiled appreciatively as you placed the book down and made yourself comfortable under the duvet. “I’m only looking out for you, you know that?”
“I do, and I appreciate that you’re here to care for me,” you whispered in response.
“I’ll always care for you.”
Namjoon:
As much as he wanted to look away from you, he just couldn’t as it tore him apart watching you work yourself up more with all the deadlines you were working towards.
“Y/N,” he frowned, walking across to you, scooping you up before you had time to respond. “You need to take a break.”
You gasped as he collapsed on the sofa with you, “you can’t just do that, I’m in the middle of something important, breaks will just have to wait.”
“No, what can wait is your boss before he ends up causing you a breakdown,” he argued, holding you tightly in position. “You’re working too hard.”
“He’s supposed to ring me in a minute, I can’t answer like this.”
His shoulders shrugged, “don’t answer, I’ll give him the reason why if I have to.”
“I know you mean well, but I honestly don’t need a break, you’re worrying too much,” you tried to argue, but he was not listening to a word.”
His eyes glanced down at you, “I’m not sitting here and listening to you sigh any longer. I need to make sure I look after you like a good boyfriend.”
“I know your heart is in the right place Joon, and I appreciate that,” you smiled.
“Just listen to me for a while.”
Jimin:
He slinked back into the room, careful of how tense it was as your body froze, hearing his footsteps straight away, unable to even so much as look at him.
“I don’t want us to argue,” he sighed, sitting down beside you, “but I really do think you’re working too hard, and it worries me.”
Your eyes fell to him, “I’m sorry for snapping at you, I know you only meant to look after me, I’m letting all of this get to me too much.”
“Work shouldn’t stress you out this much,” he sympathised, wrapping his arm around you, “I don’t want it to affect us either.”
“Neither do I, it’s the last thing that I want to happen.”
His lips pressed to your cheek, “so, please stop working for today and come and be with me.”
“Alright,” you smiled without even putting up an argument, “I don’t want us to keep arguing like this, it just stressed me out more.”
His head nodded in agreement, “that’s exactly what I don’t want to happen. I’m only ever trying to look after you, don’t ever forget that.”
“I won’t, and I don’t want to take your kind heart for granted anymore,” you sighed.
“You never have done.”
Taehyung:
His eyes immediately fell on you as he came home from his ten-hour day at the studio to find you still sat at your computer, typing away to try and get everything sorted.
“Have you got out of that chair all day?” He asked, making you jump having not heard him come through the front door.
You spun around to look back at him, “I got up to go to the toilet once, but that was about it. I didn’t even realise it was as late as it is.”
“You’re telling me you’ve not eaten or drunk anything all day?” He asked, as your head nodded. “Do you realise how bad that is for you?”
“I’m alright, I’ll get something once I’m done.”
He glared across at you, “you’ll get something to eat now, I’ll make sure of it Y/N.”
“Tae, please,” you pleaded, but he refused to listen, grabbing one of the menus and placing it in front of you. “I won’t be too much longer here.”
His shoulders shrugged, “that means it won’t take you long to finish once you’ve had dinner. Pick whatever you want, I’ll order it now.”
“You’re a pain sometimes,” you chuckled, “how can one person be so relentless?”
“It’s a skill, really.”
Jungkook:
He couldn’t help but sigh as he walked into your office and found you laid out across the computer, light snores escaping from you as you finally caught up with some sleep.
“Y/N,” he whispered, gently shaking you awake, knowing how uncomfortable you’d be.
Slowly you woke up, groaning when you realised what had happened and the mess you’d made of your work, “I only closed my eyes for five minutes, I promise.”
“You’ve been asleep for ages,” he challenged, carefully helping you sit up, “you’re exhausted, why don’t you just call it a night?”
“Because there’s still so much that I need to get done Kook.”
His head nodded, “can it not get done tomorrow? When you’re a little less sleepy?”
“I’ll just finish this one,” you tried to reason, but his head shook, holding your hands to stop you from typing. “I promise after this one I’ll shut everything off for the night.”
He continued to reject your suggestion, “you always say that, but then you carry on when I’m not looking, so you’re coming off now, no objections.”
“Alright, I’m coming off,” you giggled, closing your laptop down quickly.
“See, much better.”
---
Masterlist
#bts#bts imagine#bts reaction#bts scenario#jin imagine#yoongi imagine#hoseok imagine#namjoon imagine#jimin imagine#taehyung imagine#jungkook imagine#bts scenarios#bts reactions#bts drabble#jin#yoongi#hoseok#namjoon#jimin#taehyung#jungkook#bts one shot#bts fluff#bangtan#bangtan sonyeondan#kpop#kpop imagine
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A Silent Confession (Haikyuu!!)
Primary Universe
Masterfully combining several prompts at once like a boss! It helps that so many people wanted a Kuroo/Kenma fic with lee Kenma. This shy boy is so cute! Enjoy! ^^
7. “Don’t look at me like that!” “Like what?” “Like you’re going to…do something!”
3. “Don’t do that, I’m ticklish!”
10. “I’m not going to do anything.” “Then why are you smirking?”
19. “I see that smile. Come on, laugh!”
27. “You haven’t said stop this whole time. Do you like this?”
28. “I guess I’m going to have to punish you…”
You���ll notice for some of the numbered prompts I didn’t use the exact quote, but a variation thereof. This was to help prevent repetitiveness as well as maintain believable story flow. They’re still in the fic, just perhaps not word for word.
~
“All right, Kenma,” Kuroo said, stepping into the gym where his friend was waiting for him. “Meeting’s over. We can go.”
Kenma hummed in response, shutting off his game and putting it into his bag. He’d been passing the time so well he didn’t even realize how late it had gotten. Kuroo felt bad for making him wait when he really didn’t even need to; the setter could have gone on without him. But at the same time, he was grateful to have someone to walk home with at this time of night after a long captain’s meeting.
Kenma grabbed his oversized red sweatshirt and threw it over his head, then picked up his backpack, turning to face his taller friend.
“Oh, wait,” Kuroo said, reaching forward to grab at the fabric and tug it down. “It’s a little crooked.”
To his surprise, Kenma gasped and twisted away. “Don’t do that,” he murmured, and Kuroo swore he saw his friend’s cheeks turn pink. “I’m ticklish.”
Kuroo blinked, surprised, then smiled. “Sorry.”
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
Together they shut off the lights in the gym, locked the doors behind them, and began to make their way off campus. It wasn’t until they were a good distance from the school that Kuroo glanced sideways at his shorter friend, who looked as tired of life as he always did. Something in the back of his mind kept nagging him. He replayed the moment he’d fussed with the sweatshirt in his mind. He hadn’t even touched Kenma directly; where had that strong reaction come from?
“So,” he said after a moment’s contemplation, breaking the silence, “you’re ticklish?”
Kenma didn’t reply, but again Kuroo thought he saw the slightest flicker in his expression. Interesting. Having been friends with the silent boy as long as he had, he’d gotten pretty good at picking up on the subtle differences in vibes he gave off. He could tell when Kenma had an opinion he was too afraid to share, when he was annoyed by his teammates, and even when he was secretly excited about something. But this vibe was different somehow. It wasn’t easy to get a good read on.
He decided to proceed with caution, even as he sneakily reached down to poke Kenma’s side, testing his reaction.
Again a gasp, and Kenma took a hopping step to the side, out of his reach. His amber eyes looked up at him, but again, the captain couldn’t discern the exact emotion behind them. “Kuroo.”
“What? I’m not going to do anything.”
“Then why are you smirking?”
Kuroo hadn’t even known he was smirking. “Sorry, it’s just – how have we known each other all these years and I didn’t know you were ticklish?”
Kenma broke their gaze. “It probably never crossed your mind.”
He was right. For as much as he tried to get Kenma to break out of his comfort zone, Kuroo knew his friend had limits and really was very shy. He preferred to remain quiet most of the time, and the captain had never thought to change that about him. He was quiet, but he was also highly observant, and that made him not only a great volleyball player, but a wonderful friend as well. Kenma could pick up on Kuroo’s subtle changes in mood better than he himself could sometimes.
The setter spoke up again, albeit quieter than before. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Huh? Like what?” Again, Kuroo hadn’t even realized he was looking at him in a particular way.
“Like you’re going to…” Kenma trailed off, taking the slightest step further away from him. “…do something.”
Kuroo hesitated. That step away was obvious, but the reason was not. He legitimately couldn’t tell if Kenma was uncomfortable, or if he wanted him to do something. He knew outright asking would get him nowhere. The setter was really good at clamming up when he felt awkward, and one vibe he was picking up on right now was an awkward one.
Deciding he needed to be bold, Kuroo suddenly reached out and snatched Kenma’s arm, whirling him around to face him and make eye contact. Kenma’s gaze met his for only a second, but it was enough. Kuroo almost couldn’t believe the excited shine he saw there.
“Do you want me to do something?” he asked, his voice teasing now. “Something specific? Perhaps related to this conversation?”
Color blossomed in the setter’s cheeks. He kept his eyes downcast. Said nothing.
“Kenma…” Kuroo grabbed his friend’s side and squeezed once. “I asked you a question.”
Kenma let out a little huff of air – not quite a giggle, nowhere near a laugh, but a reaction nonetheless – and started to step back again.
Kuroo tightened his grip and pulled him closer. “Not going to answer me? That’s not a very nice thing to do. I’ll have to punish you for that, you know.”
Kenma made a little noise in the back of his throat and started to twist away, but Kuroo pulled him even closer and trapped him in a bear hug, the setter’s back against his chest. If he’d wanted to get away – if he’d wanted to be left alone – he would have said or done something by now. His silence was telling enough on its own.
“I think,” Kuroo said, gradually worming one hand down to Kenma’s ribs, “I should put my new knowledge to good use. What about you? Anything to say?” He curled his fingers and dug in through the thick fabric of the sweater. “No? Then don’t mind if I do.”
Once again there was a little gasp, and Kenma started wriggling in his arms, hands reaching to grab onto his wrist instinctively. “K-Kuroo!”
“Yes?” This sweater was really in the way, but the captain pushed through it. “Feel like talking now?”
“H-Haah!” Kenma bit his lip and shook his head, his lips wobbling as he fought back a grin. “Ah! Kuroo!”
“I see that smile!” Kuroo exclaimed playfully, finally giving up on tickling through the sweater and sliding his hand under it to make contact with bare skin. “Come on, laugh!”
The skin-to-skin touch was way more effective, as Kenma sputtered and started writhing more, soft snickers escaping him. “Kuroo!”
“Yeees? You keep saying my name, but then you don’t communicate with me.” Kuroo was grinning now, too, and he prodded his fingers into the grooves of the setter’s ribs. “Don’t be such a tease, Kenma.”
“Ahahaha!” Kenma choked on a laugh, his arms flailing as his body arched away from the captain’s. “Y-You’re the tehehease! Kuroo!”
“If all you do is say my name without further communication, there are going to be consequences.” Kuroo’s fingers slid down to the hem of his friend’s jeans, teasing the hip. “Something you’d like to tell me?”
This time the sound that escaped the setter was nothing less than a squeal, and bright, bubbly giggles started to pour from his mouth as he twisted even more. “Ehehehehehehe! Kuroo, plehehease!”
Please. A word he never heard from his quiet, shy friend. Kuroo beamed. “Anything you’d like to admit, perhaps? Hmm? You haven’t told me to stop yet. Do you maybe…” He found the hipbone and pinched, enjoying the shriek that he got in response. “…like this? Do you like being tickled, Kenma?”
“Kurohohohohohoo!” This time his name came out as a desperate, breathy giggle, and Kenma managed to twist himself around enough that the captain could see his wide smile, scrunched up nose and eyes, and pink cheeks. “P-Please, I-aiehehehehehehehe!”
“Do you like this, Kenma~?”
The setter whimpered. “I cahahahahan’t s-sahahahay it!”
“That’s fine.” Kuroo smiled, his heart swelling at how adorable his friend was being right now. “You can just nod. That’s all I need.”
Kenma whined again, but after a moment managed a brief nod in the midst of his giggling, and with that, Kuroo tackled him into the grass and slipped both hands under his red sweatshirt, scribbling wildly from his ribs to his belly to his hips. Kenma shrieked with giggles, curling up instinctively and rolling around as the sensations shocked his nervous system, but he never once protested the way their night was suddenly unfolding.
Kuroo laughed with him, deciding to experiment further by shoving his hands all the way up to Kenma’s underarms.
Kenma screamed, throwing his head back and curling up even more and kicking his legs wildly and shoving his arms down protectively and letting his laughter burst out of him loudly, uncontrollably, unabashedly, and Kuroo could not get enough of it.
He quickly moved to straddle his hips, keeping his hands firmly in the hollows of the setter’s underarms, scribbling, digging, swirling, and everything in between. “Oh, yes. I like this side of you, Kenma!”
“KUROHOHOHOHOHOHOO!!” Kenma cried, lost in hysterics, but still not protesting or even really fighting back.
Kuroo sighed dramatically. “Didn’t I just say there would be consequences if you kept saying my name and nothing else? Really, Kenma. What am I going to do with you?”
The answer was simple, really. He was going to keep tickling, and keep teasing, and keep watching his friend’s face contort with uncontrollable happiness as loud, bubbly, and decidedly un-Kenma-like laughter filled the late night air for a long, long time.
And Kuroo – like Kenma – would enjoy every minute of it.
#fanfiction#tickle fic#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#kuroo#kenma#kuroken#admission#playful#friends#cute#fluff#tickling#ticklish#tickle#confession
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JIEJIE BLIPPITY BLIP BLJP,
IMAHINE HABGE TRYIGN TO PREPARE A WWDDING....AND LEBI NEEDKNG TO REIGN HER IN OR ELSE THERE'S GONNA BE FIREWORKS IN THE MIDDLE OF A SMALL PARK.
Eeeek💖 hello baobao @snudootchaikovsky 💖 sorry this took so LONG! And sorry this is awfully short. I sorta changed the prompt a little I hope it’s okay! Also for you lovelies asking for a continuation of this AU. I know Hanji refers to herself as Levi’s wife but let’s pretend that didn’t happen.
Something something romance
Hanji’s mind is a place of wonder. This is a well known fact because Hanji thinks out loud.
It’s inconvenient really. One moment she’s rattling on about covalent bonds to a class and seconds later she lets slip a “so how do I propose to Levi- I mean- what do I propose- what! No! I meant what do you guys propose we do! About… The covalent bonds…” Hanji blows the bangs out of her eyes, grin plastered on her face like she’s successfully dammed the river.
There’s an unholy silence, as dead silence always is in class full of rowdy high schoolers. And then all hell breaks loose. The river breaches the dam. Hanji’s attempts to rein them in proving definitely making the situation worse.
“So… You’re gonna propose to Mr Ackerman?” Ymir winks and Hanji wants to die.
“Yes. And no telling him!”
“But why?” Mikasa says. Her face a mix of genuine confusion and disgust.
“Why- do I believe in a flawed institution that reproduces heteronormative notions of family?” Hanji tries, brow raised.
“No… Why Mr Ackerman?”
—
The kids are helpful anyway. And part of Hanji grieves the fact that if the kids were half this enthusiastic about chemistry there would be more distinctions than statistically possible, and part of Hanji appreciates this because living with Levi doesn’t really give much room for much planning. The stress has been eating at Hanji and she almost regrets insisting she be the one to propose because I am more fun.
“Serenade him?”
“Apparently I’m tone deaf…”
“Rose petals leading to bed?”
And Hanji is about to say a surprised “what do you kids know about rose petals and beds!” But the rapid fire of suggestions leave little room for a conversation on that.
“A flash mob?”
“No flash mobs…” Hanji repeats what Levi had said to her- his one request uttered like a plea.
“I think I’m gonna take him to the usual places we go on our dates and propose to him in the park.” Hanji says, and it’s a good idea, but hearing it out loud makes her nervous. God this is really happening.
“The park where you walk your cats?” Historia asks.
Hanji winks. You know it. The class erupts into bouts of “aww”s and even Mikasa gives her a thumbs up.
Eren raises his hand, and from the way he’s shaking and grinning, he probably has the best idea of the century.
“Blow us away Eren!” Hanji points to him, grinning and he grins back- a little too confident.
“What about fireworks at the park?”
—
Levi narrows his eyes at the class. They’re a little too good today. And yet there’s a current of nervous energy in the air that causes the kids to wriggle like a can of worms. But he pushes on. He always promises an earlier dismissal if they sit down, shut up, and listen. But they never take him up on the offer- that is- until now.
“Any other questions?” He says at the end of annotating the chapter, and the resounding “no” is highly suspicious. He narrows his eyes further, considering them. Strange. They’d usually jump at any inappropriate window they call “opportunity” to ask him a series of personal questions and he doesn’t even know why because he’s sure Hanji would’ve already answered all of them.
“Okay. Class dismissed.” He says, still suspicious. The kids whisper and giggle as they shuffle out of class.
“Have a good weekend Mr Ackerman!” Jean shouts from the door and he returns it in kind, despite being very suspicious.
“You better get Ms Zoë some flowers this weekend.” It’s the girls- Sasha and Historia, but it’s Mikasa who utters the suggestion like a threat.
“Noted.”
—
It’s a regular Saturdate. They take a walk to the little Japanese hole in the wall near their place for some beers and yakitori. And it’s nice and comfortable and blissful. There’s even a bouquet of gerberas on the table because Levi thinks they suit Hanji.
And now they’re in the park, deed done, and Hanji admires the band on her finger. It’s simple, gold, really similar to the one she had gotten for Levi.
“So you knew I was gonna propose?” She marvels. Calling it coincidence that they would both propose on the same day would be too easy- also statistically unlikely.
“The kids were awfully well-behaved on Friday… Mikasa and Ymir threatened me on two separate occasions-” Levi frowns- “and Eren said something about fireworks…”
Hanji guffaws. Sweet kids. That explains why Levi had been shifting uncomfortably whenever he looks up at the sky. She’s a little disappointed that she had decided maybe simple was better- less room for fuck ups.
Levi’s eyes are wide with terror. “Hanji if you had set off fireworks at the park I-“
“Fireworks at our wedding?” She tries. It’s a good idea.
“No.”
Hanji pouts, but then quickly recovers with a-
“Fine. But i get to invite the kids.”
Levi smiles, taking Hanji’s hand in his, “wouldn’t have it any other way.”
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untitled god song
pairing: bakugou/m!reader (trans reader in mind you can see it if you squint but can also be read as cis)
words: 2k
warnings: themes of religious trauma, homophobia, mentions of blood, the author projecting their mommy issues
a/n: this is purely self indulgent, don't mind me 😩✋ (written in first person)
i wish i had known him before the pain started. perhaps it is a fools dream to think that his presence would have solved anything, and it is likely that he might blown me sky high at the time, if given the chance, but i often ponder his place in my narrative. he is nothing less than a king—nay, a god—and what else am i to be except his humble servant, adoring him in the only way i've been taught?
i would bruise my knees as i kneel for him, and should he turn me away, i shall be lost and without purpose. but he does not, and instead, he snorts out a laugh and pulls me to my feet, roughly squeezing my cheeks together with a shit-eating grin. he'll tell me a joke i've heard a thousand times, and yet i laugh with him anyways, the pads of my fingers idly tapping the pulse on his wrists.
"dumbass, at least take me out to dinner first."
i never thought i'd ache to hear such a demeaning nickname, but it's like birdsong to my ears, and i long for the myriad of butterflies it provokes.
i would heed his every word like a faithful disciple, and—if i knew he would not use this power for the wrong reasons—carry it out without question. he'll roll his eyes at the notion, far too prideful at the idea of being praised, and card hands through my hair, gripping softly.
"right. and if i told you to go to bed before five in the morning, would you listen?"
my smiles are genuine, as they all are with him.
"no."
i wish my mother had been more open-minded; more loving to those she claimed were goners. maybe then, i could still call her my mother, and not a snarled version of her first name steeped in vinegar. maybe she could have met him, and maybe she would have keeled over in the process, but that is how we put it "killing two birds with one stone".
he was a fallen angel if ever i saw one—emblazoned in smog and ravenous inferno, the pieces of child-like innocence turning to ash. something happened to him when he was a kid, just as all gifted children, and oh, what a fool i was to let my gaze dawdle on his gorgeous form. but i will never regret it—no, not ever—for there is no such feeling that can compare to his eyes on mine, burning with a mind-fogging intensity.
it was instantaneous, the moment my thoughts turned on me with malicious intent, her voice ringing out like a gunshot.
you'll never be him.
his hand slots with mine perfectly; deliciously warm and comforting in a way i haven't felt in years; and hauls me up, the flecks of dirt and rubble from the road clinging to my jeans.
"watch it, pretty boy. i won't always be here to save you, y'know."
my heart batters against my ribs like a caged bird, screeching and wailing to be set free, and i wonder in a haze if i've died. judgement day must have come early, i think, not realizing that it was spoken aloud until the blonde quirks a brow inquisitively. he does not speak on the matter, but continues on his merry way, leaving my helpless; hopelessly enamored; and praying that we will meet again.
no, i could never be him. but i am like him. he has a sureness in his walk and fervor in the way he talks that is only recognizable when i look in the mirror.
and we do meet again.
it is a shame, however, that i must burden him with the weight of my past. i remember too often the troubles of my youth, even when all has passed into fleeting memories that haunt me as ghosts do to an abandoned house. yet, i still live in this house, and the ghosts are here to keep me company.
i remember the church, first and foremost; nestled between the barren country road and the outback; a beacon of hope to all those who stood in its doors. the luster of freshly polished wood still sits in my mind, accompanied by the echoing remnants of dulcet tones and multicolored bands of light, glaring from the stained glass windows and dancing across the musty carpet floor. the doddering pews were just as uncomfortable as the poorly padded chairs squatting in the front row, but every sunday, they were filled to the brim with hungry worshippers. they sang praise as though they were starved, but i was too young to understand for what.
i am older now, and i still don't understand. all i know is that despite its reputation, the church was a cursed place, and i should never set foot in it again lest i go mad.
i remember the creaking stairs which lead downstairs, and the winding halls that reeked of torment where shadows loomed. the paint was corroding and foul, and my conscious always loitered too long on the merlot stain on the ceiling; its origin unknown, but nevertheless urging my stomach to twist with nausea.
i remember the feeling of tall grass grazing my ankles; itching horribly from the old moth-eaten socks i was forced to wear. it had become second nature—running and hiding from my problems, from the church, from her. i shall never know a greater animosity than the likes that my mother encouraged, although unintentionally, with her pressuring views and sickeningly sweet smile. it's fake, and i would know, because ours are the same.
we are too similar, and i am sickened by the fact. will i become the wretched woman she is? will i fail to be the father i've dreamt of being? it is an easy thing to fall prey to haunting questions, and it serves as brain rot for every moment of silence that leaves me clawing at my skin, trying to reap the memory of her touch.
then i began to think—about nothing and everything—and it does not stop. i will be kind; unforgivingly so, and without biased judgement; like my mother never was, and i'll make her hate me for it. i will grow in leaps and bounds, not for her sake or for god's, but for mine, as it always should have been. i will drink and curse with reckless abandon and kiss who i damn well please, because in no life does she have have the power to make me something i'm not.
why should i feel sorry when the tears she wept were forged by my own blood; by the childhood memories locked away to rot in my subconscious? yes, she has suffered too, but it is through clenched teeth and raw-bitten lips that i must confess this, for her suffering was born in me and grew from a seedling into a thorned flower, nourished by her hatred and mine. she'll tell me the lie of all mothers before her: that she knows best, and i'll never know joy that is not from my savior's gracious hands.
one day, when she lies not with words but in silence, under worm-filled earth and withering pastures, i'll tell her that she was right. i'll tell her, with his hand in mine, that my savior arrived with hellfire in his eyes and fury unrelenting. his tongue holds venom that would make the devil blush, but he tastes of a sinful sweetness that i've drowned in more times than i care to count.
mother you should know, my god is like no other. he has a broad chest and muscles, i attest, that are sculpted like fine marble and smooth to the test.
my god is a man who loves other men, unashamedly; in all that is true; and kisses me like real people do. and i know it sounds silly, and a bit cliché, and he'd surely make a mockery of me if ever he heard, but i love him. i love him as passionately as you she does lord above, and it is a crime in itself how much i crave him, so yes, i will burn for this—not because my mother said so or by the ancient script that foretells it, but because i promise it. i promise to let neither hell or high water deter me from that which gives me life, and i'll do so with a ring.
"you hear that mom?" i'll whisper in the dead of night, his body flushed against mine in the most delightful way; his fingers curled into my nightshirt, pulling me closer as listless mumbles fall from his parted lips. he is dead to the world amid his dream ridden stupor, but still leans into my touch when i smooth back the wild tufts of hair to kiss his forehead.
"i'm gonna marry him." part of me wishes she didn't live on the other side of the planet, just so i could rub it in her face, but i won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me again. i won't let her think she's won, because i know, and katsuki knows, that he and i are one in the same.
i do not know who i should thank for my stubbornness, be it my mother or my father, so i will thank the pain they both caused me, for it made me stronger than they ever could. no, i did not become a better person, because the scars have yet to heal from how deep they cut, and the smell of blood still lingers, and i am angrier than i once was, but i cherish my wounds. the stench of my agony has long since been subdued, and i have learned to swallow the sickness it evokes. and yes, this anger is unhealthy and i've chosen not to purge it from my mind like the weed it is, but how lucky am i to have found one whose malice rivals my own?
the tales of his glory have littered my notebooks in smudged ink. you would hate him, is scrawled messily on the last page, but i only feel giddy with excitement. you would hate him for his spite and his unapologetic behavior, and that is why he's perfect. he's everything you hate about this world, but everything i love.
so when she gets to heaven and asks the angels "why?", they'll tell her it was him who made the devil cry. him, who held me like she should have—could have, if she hadn't terrified me—and who chased the nightmarish visions of her from my weary mind with his callous palms and soft-spoken reassurances.
i wish i had known him when we were young; when things were not so simple and i needed a hand to hold; but i suppose we'll have to settle for faded photographs and stories told through the bitter aroma of alcohol. that's more than enough, i muse to myself, legs hooked over his as i rest my head on his shoulder, keening softly at the gentle scrape of his nails on my scalp. his arms wind around my waist as he mutters something along the lines of "i love you", his lips curling into a smile, illuminated by the televisions glow.
so when they ask of my religion, i will think of only him. i will recall the way he looks at me, the sound of my name on his tongue, the feeling of his lips trailing between the valley of my breast; featherlight, cautious and unfitting for a man of his nature. i've written songs of praise, all dedicated to him, and if only he knew, oh how smug he would be.
but i love him, i love him, i love him.
and when he spins me around like a marionette, it is with overwhelming pride and joy that i tell him this, and with rose hued cheeks and bashful grumbles, he tells me the same. so mother, wherever you are, i hope you know i've found my god.
#💥.katsuki#bakugou x trans reader#bakugou x trans male reader#bakugou x male reader#katsuki bakugou x male reader#male reader insert#mha x male reader#boku no hero x reader#bakugou x you#trans reader
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Hey love! I was wondering if I could request first date with Eren? And maybe how nervous they both are but it gets really cute and fluffy? Modern or canon is fine!
hi aimee!! 🥰❤ i definitely had fun with this scenario! i made it into modern au, because i would probably butcher canon Eren 🙄 anyway i hope you enjoy sexy lady and thank you again for requesting! ♡
First Date Jitters
Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader
Warnings: None
A shaky sigh came from Eren's mouth as he looked in the mirror. He just got out of the shower, his date was currently in an hour with (Y/N) and he couldn't be more nervous.
It was his first date with her.
Eren knew (Y/N) for a pretty long time, the two attended the same high school and they both were in the same Physics class. He always thought she was a pretty girl, he just never really had much guts to ask her out.
They both got close fairly quick, they talked every night, facetimed, met up to talk before going to lectures, the two seemed genuinely really interested in one another.
When he asked her to go see a movie with him, he was a blushing mess and he could barely even make eye contact with her. Of course, she said yes and here he was now, getting ready to pick her up.
"You're really this nervous?" his roommate, Armin, asked.
Eren looked at Armin before leaning against the counter. "W-Well.. a little bit," he replied.
The blonde approached him, "You got this Eren, just be yourself! You've known (Y/N) for a long time anyway." a smile formed on his lips.
Eren really wish he could say he's got it, but he felt butterflies in his stomach. Yeah he knew her for a long time, but he's never hung out alone with her and seeing the way the two acted around one another... he had every right to be nervous. Eren liked (Y/N).
Eren looked at his phone, the screen displayed that he had less than an hour before he had to go get her.
"What if I mess this up?" Eren asked, looking Armin with concern.
Armin patted his shoulder, "You aren't as long you treat her with respect and make sure you don't do anything that makes her uncomfortable," he said.
He sighed, his nerves felt high still and he couldn't help it. He didn't want his anxiousness to ruin the date and it would be horrible if she was turned off by it! He just wanted to make a good impression, that's all.
On the other hand, (Y/N) was feeling the same way about this date. She was a nervous wreck and her stomach was knotted up from everything.
"I don't even know what to wear!" she exclaimed.
Her roommate, Sasha, was trying her best to calm her down.
"(Y/N)! Relax! It's just Eren.. he definitely has seen you in bummy outfits. Just wear some jeans and a nice shirt," she said, standing up and walking towards her closet.
(Y/N) plopped down on her bed, she felt her heart thumping in her chest. "Ugh.. I just.. I don't wanna ruin this! Eren is really cute and I don't wanna come off as a weirdo," she said.
Sasha rubbed her back, "You aren't gonna ruin it (Y/N), Eren is a really nice guy, if I thought you were gonna mess this up I would have told you to not even bother going."
Her phone suddenly vibrated which made her scramble to grab it.
Sasha looked up, "What did he say?" she asked.
(Y/N) looked at the text from Eren.
Eren: hey! i'm almost ready, should i come get you soon?
"He's asking if he should come get me," she replied, looking at Sasha.
"Girl go find a damn outfit! Stop freaking out woman!" Sasha said.
(Y/N) went towards her closet and grabbed an outfit. Some ripped dark jeans and a white spaghetti tank top, she added a bracelet and fixed up her hair.
"How does it look?" she asked, looking at Sasha.
Sasha gave a thumbs up. "You look sexy! He won't be able to resist you in that," she smirked.
As if on cue, her phone suddenly vibrated again.
Eren: i'm on my way!
"He's on his way.." she said, grabbing some perfume and spraying it onto her skin.
"You got this! I believe in you (Y/N)!" Sasha said, smiling at her.
She really wished she could believe that.
Eren chewed his bottom lip as he drove to (Y/N)'s apartment building, his heart thumped in his chest and his stomach did flips as he got closer to the address.
Armin told him not to worry, but he couldn't help worrying. He liked her and this was the only time he could show it.
He pulled up in front of the building and sent her a text letting him know he was there. His leg shook as he patiently waited.
Calm down Eren, she's not gonna be weirded out. Eren thought to himself.
(Y/N) suddenly appeared, she exited her building and got into Eren's car.
"Hey!" she said, smiling at him.
Eren gave her smile, "Hey! You look nice.." he said, looking at her outfit.
Her cheeks grew warm, "T-Thank you.. you look nice yourself," she replied.
A dust of pink hinted onto Eren's cheeks. His nerves still feeling high and he was trying his best to not make it noticeable.
He started driving to the movie theatre, there was some awkward silence in the car.
"S-So.. um, how are you doing?" he asked.
She fidgeted with her fingers. "Um.. I'm okay? I guess? I've just been stressing with exams and all that," she replied.
Her gaze made its way to Eren, he looked really good right now. He was wear a black crewneck with black jeans, his cologne filled her nose. It was a pine and vanilla scent.
"I'm doing okay too.. that physics final really beat my ass but other than that I'm alright," he said, his eyes looking at her in the passenger seat.
She laughed a bit, "It was hard for sure," she said, looking out the window. "Do you have a movie picked out?"
Eren turned into the theatre. "Actually no, I was hoping to pick one with you." he replied.
She nodded her head, "Sounds good!" she smiled.
Eren parked his car and the two got out, (Y/N) silently prayed Eren didn't see her shaky legs as she walked with him into the theatre. She picked at the skin of her nails, her heart racing as he came next to her.
"We should see a horror movie, if you want." he said.
Her gaze averted towards him, "That sounds like fun! I love horror movies," she replied.
Eren felt his heart hammering in his chest, she smelled great and her overall persona was making him nervous. A million thoughts were rushing into his head, what if he did something embarrassing? What if she was uncomfortable?
"Hello! How may I help you?" the clerk asked, nodding her head at the two.
"U-Uh.. two tickets for The Conjuring 2," Eren replied, taking out his wallet.
(Y/N) was about to take out her own when Eren stopped her. "I got it."
Her cheeks were warm from the gesture, no guy had ever paid for a date before. Well, any guy she's been on a date with.
Eren grabbed the tickets and lead (Y/N) inside the theatre, the smell of popcorn and sweets filled into her nose making her stomach growl slightly.
"You want anything?" Eren asked, looking down at her.
She looked at the different snacks, "U-Um.. not really," she replied, looking away from his gaze.
He grabbed some sour gummy worms and some Hershey's kisses. His two favorite candies, sweet and sour.
He put it onto the counter, the guy behind it scanned it and Eren handed him the bill. "Come on," he said, nodding his head to the side.
(Y/N) swallowed thickly as she followed Eren to the theatre, she felt her body growing warm and her heart beginning to race again. What if Eren is weirded out by the way she's acting? What if he saw her shaky legs? Ugh.. this was all too much.
He held the door open for her as she entered the room, "Thanks.." she whispered.
Eren followed after her, she made her way up the steps towards the back, many people were already seated and watching the different movie trailers that played on the screen.
"Have you seen this one before?" Eren asked in a whisper.
She nodded, "No.. scary movies do freak me out though," she replied.
Eren smiled at the thought of her being scared, "Don't worry.. I'll protect you," he said, chuckling a bit.
Her cheeks grew hot again, "Please do.." she replied.
He was surprised at that answer, a blush formed onto his cheeks hearing her words.
Within a few minutes the movie started, it was the usual talk about demons and ghosts, as well as an introduction to who the Warren's were. Eren had seen this movie a million times, but it was always a classic favorite of his.
(Y/N) was moving her feet around and shaking her leg, what if she embarrassed herself right now?
Suddenly a jumpscare flashed and many people jumped including (Y/N), a small squeak escaped her mouth as she gripped Eren's arm.
He turned red feeling her touch, it took her a minute but (Y/N) soon noticed her squeeze around his arm.
"Sorry!" she whispered, trying her best to ignore the growing heat on her cheeks.
Eren swallowed thickly, "N-No.. don't apologize! Um.. here," he said.
She looked over to see him moving the armrest between them, he pulled it up so the space between them was now opened. His arms wide for her.
"Y-You don't have to.. of course.." he mumbled, his cheeks bright pink.
She looked at the screen then back at him, "N-No! You're fine.. I just don't wanna make you uncomfortable.." she whispered.
"You won't.." he replied.
That's when she leaned into his chest, she could feel her hands trembling as she placed them onto his stomach. Eren's heart thumping against his chest could be heard from her ear. His arm found its way around the flesh of her waist, tightening around her so she'd feel a sense of security.
Another jumpscare flashed and she jumped again, Eren smiled at that. He found it.. cute?
"Sorry.." she whispered.
His hand found its way to her hair, "Don't worry about it.."
She looked up at him then back at the screen, the different screams and yelling coming from the people in the movie filled her ears.
Eventually, the movie came to an end. (Y/N) was so comfortable on his chest she almost wanted to lay there the whole time, but considering how late it was, that wasn't exactly an option.
She rose from her seat, cracking her joints and stretching. She turned to meet Eren's gaze on her, he was standing and stretching himself.
"What'd you think?" he asked with a smile.
She giggled, "Not bad.. but it was scary."
He hummed in response, "Let's head out," he said.
She nodded before following him down the steps and exiting the showing room. Her eyes adjusted to the light, making her squint a little. Eren tossed his snacks into the garbage since he finished them during the movie.
He held the door open as he exited the theatre, (Y/N) shivered as she walked out. The cold air enveloping her skin.
"I should have brought a jacket.." she said, laughing a bit.
Eren raised his brows, "Here," he said.
She furrowed her brows watching Eren take off his crewneck, he had a white shirt underneath it. She could faintly see the skin of his stomach as he lifted it off him.
"Eren you don't have to-"
"No, let me. It'd be rude of me to let you shiver here.. so take it, I don't mind." Eren replied, holding the fabric out for her.
She smiled, taking it and throwing it over herself. It was warm and his scent was all over it, she felt comfort in it.
"Thank you.." she said, her cheeks growing hot again.
Eren rubbed the back of his neck, a smile forming on his lips. "No problem!"
The two went to his car and climbed in to drive back to her apartment, Eren and (Y/N) were more comfortable with each other now. They joked around, talked about the movie, and talked about other movies they'd like to see with each other.
Eren put the car in park as he pulled up to the front of her apartment building.
She removed her seatbelt and looked at him. "Thank you for tonight.. it was really fun," she smiled.
He smiled himself, "Yeah no problem! I had a lot of fun too.. don't worry about my shirt either, you can keep it." he replied.
"Sounds good! Um.. I guess I'll see you in class?" she asked, nodding her head.
Eren shook his head, "No yeah! I'll see you then," he replied.
She began to make her way out of his car.
"Wait!"
Her head turned back towards him. "Hm? What's up?" she asked, blinking a few times.
"Uh.. u-um, I just.. I had a lot of fun tonight, you know? I was- u-um.. wondering if you.. wanted to hangout again?" he said, his cheeks visibly pink.
She giggled, "Of course! I would love to hangout with you.. maybe a second date?" she said.
His heart swelled, "Y-Yeah! That sounds great!" he replied.
She smiled before leaning in to press her lips on his cheek, "See you later."
Eren's eyes went wide, but nonetheless he felt flustered and excited. "Have a good night," he said, smiling.
She exited his car and waved, she disappeared into her apartment building.
Eren smiled at he pulled off towards the road, who knew this date would go so well? He was definitely eager to see (Y/N) again.
#anime#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#aot x reader#aot x y/n#aot fanfiction#aot imagines#snk x y/n#snk x reader#snk fanfiction#snk imagines#shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction#eren jaeger#eren jaeger x reader#eren x reader#attack on titan fanfiction#anime fanfic
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cellmates ; four ; j.wy
pairing ; jung wooyoung x reader
summary ; stuck in jail after stealing a necklace off the princess, what happens when your new cellmate with an impossible escape plan comes along?
words ; 5.2k
warnings / includes ; medieval fantasy au, blood and grime and death and everything in between, some curse words, future ateez cameos, future suggestive / mature content, cellmates to (future) lovers !!
a/n ; surprise !! here you go stop crying >:( kdjffj jk i hope yall enjoy !!! the plot thickens up quite a bit in this one 👀 ,,, there are also a couple surprises sprinkled here and there :DD to make up for what i did to yall last chapter lol
cellmates masterlist.
As a child, a popular tale you often heard was one depicting a man stranded on an island, throat dry with thirst and stomach void of nourishment. He passed out in exhaustion by the beach, just on the brink of death. But before his soul could fade away, the mermaids took pity on the man of skin-and-bones and brought him underwater, breathing life back into his lungs. He contentedly lived the rest of his life as a merperson.
Although stories like those always had happy endings, they could never really make you smile, unlike how all the other children reacted. What about the people the man cared about when he was on land? Had he just completely forgotten about them to selfishly live an easier life underwater?
The same thoughts ran through your pounding head repeatedly as you dully stared out into the gleaming ocean. From where you were, bound tightly against the main mast, you had a clear view of both the ship’s deck and the waters. You couldn’t really remember how long you’d been tied up… if you could recall correctly, they had only thrown Wooyoung overboard just last night. That felt like an eternity ago.
All thoughts of mermaids and fairy tales and Wooyoung dissipated from your mind once a pirate stepped into your view. In the daylight, they were far less scary than when you had first encountered them. The pirate had bronzed skin verging on being sunburnt, and sharp eyes of molten gold. A red bandana held his hair out of his leering face, and you noticed a dark branding burn of a sword ran through a skull embedded on his chest, partially covered by his loose tunic.
The man tutted, grabbing your chin between two fingers. It was then that you realized just how tired you were; you hadn’t gotten any sleep, instead spending the night struggling against your bonds and crying after Wooyoung.
“Let me go.” Your voice was so hoarse that it didn’t sound like yours anymore.
The pirate merely grinned and shook his head.
You wracked your brain for a second before spitting out, “Isn’t it bad luck to have a woman onboard? Your ship will sink if you keep me here.”
“Why, you must have nothing but worms between your ears,” He cackled in a sinister manner. “That’s just a silly little myth, sweetheart. Women are more than welcome here.” With those words, he ran his eyes over your tense form. A predator surveying its prey.
Much to your relief, the pirate stepped down. That feeling didn’t last very long, however. Just as he slid back, more pirates filtered into your view, clearly just having woken up to start the day. There were so many eyes on you; some curious, some disinterested, and some boldly staring with unsavory expressions.
“I say we make her do the dirty work,” One with golden teeth chimed. “Scrub the decks, clean the chamber pots.”
“We should toss her overboard. We don’t need another mouth to feed.”
“Keep her tied up there! A pretty thing like her should be on display for everyone to see!”
“We can drop her off at the next port and sell her off as a slave. We could use the extra gold.”
“Awh, don’t you think we should keep her? Ain’t half bad to look at.”
Those were only just a few snippets you could make out in the midst of the tumultuous roaring of the pirates as they yelled their suggestions over each other. They grew progressively louder as more ideas came into mind on what they should do with you. Panic brewed within you, but your limbs were tired and your mind was numb. All you could do was stand and watch.
The pirates immediately quietened once a one-eyed man with a peg leg hobbled out of the navigation room. The soft clunk, clunk, clunk of the wooden leg against the planks was not unsimilar to the rapid thundering of your heartbeat.
This is the captain, you thought. It was obvious, what with the way the pirates shut their mouths tightly and bowed their heads down to their chests. Some even trembled on the spot. If Wooyoung were here, he’d laugh at them.
Oh, how you missed him.
The captain had a voice of pure silk, a stark contrast to his ragged appearance. In a quietly powerful tone, he stated firmly, “We leave her here until we reach Aurecia. Then we sell her off.” After a tense pause, he sternly added on, “Nobody touches her until then. Aurecians pay well for unspoilt women, so if any of you lot come remotely close to her, I’ll have your heads.”
The diminutive consolation you received from the captain’s commands ebbed away slightly when you thought more about what he was saying. They were going to sell you off as a slave in Aurecia. And if you could recall the map correctly, Aurecia was the opposite direction of Virelis, where you were supposed to be going. To top it all off, Cerulea and Aurecia were trusted allies, and that could mean nothing good for you.
“No!” You suddenly interjected in a croaky voice, throat so dry it felt like you had sandpaper in your mouth. “Please, don’t take me there. I need to go to Virelis. Please, you can sell me there!”
Everybody stared at you in complete befuddlement. The captain gaped at you with one narrowed eye and spat out, “Virelis doesn’t take slaves. Don’t play games with me, girl.”
Out of desperation, pleading words frantically poured out of your mouth before you could stop and hesitate, “Then don’t sell me! I’m useful, I swear!”
“Forgive me if I have difficulty believing you,” The captain said in a bored tone, gesturing to your bleeding, tied up form.
A frustrated huff escaped you as you hissed out, “I’m Y/N L/N! I was the one that stole the princess’ necklace! I’m a valuable asset and you’d be lucky to have me on your crew.”
A stunned silence washed over the pirates. Then, one by one, they started laughing. They snorted and chuckled and slapped their knees as if you had told them the funniest joke in the world. You half-heartedly attempted speaking again, but your voice was drowned out by their howling laughter.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP BEFORE I FEED YOUR SORRY ASSES TO THE SHARKS!” The captain bellowed, his velvety tone long gone. He had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, a scowl pulling at his lips.
The lot of them snapped their mouths shut so quickly you could hear their teeth clacking against one other.
“Y/N L/N is nothing but a legend,” The captain stepped closer to you, his one eye narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t know, nor do I care for why you’re lying, but it better not become a problem. I’ve already got one crew to deal with. I don’t need to add a raving lunatic onto the list.”
“Please!” You wiggled against your bonds slightly, wincing at how the coarse rope fibers scratched at your chafed skin. “Why would I lie?! You’ve got to believe me, I’m Y/N L/N, I’ve been in jail for a long time and I’ve only recently escaped with the man you tossed overboard. Please, we can go bring him back, he can tell you, I - !”
The words lodged in your throat. It was pointless, trying to convince a haggle of savage pirates to go back for someone they tossed to the sharks. There was a sort of heavy pain deep down in your chest, and you brokenly blew out a sigh. The feeling churned at your insides uncomfortably. It might’ve been the sea sickness, but you knew it was a nasty combination of guilt and panic and regret.
The captain noticed your abrupt change in demeanor, but decided not to comment. Instead, he said stoically, “Y/N L/N is a wonderful character in a legend told to scare children and I would absolutely love to meet her. But unfortunately, I don’t think I’d ever get the pleasure to. She’s not real.” You stared into his one eye, tears welling up in your own. “And about the man we tossed over… he put up a real fight and he wasn’t worth the trouble. He’s probably long gone by now. It’d do you good to forget about him.”
Pirates behind the pair of you started snickering, but were quietened when the captain straightened and just about snarled out, “DON’T YOU HAVE WORK TO DO? GET ON WITH IT, YOU STINKY BASTARDS!”
They scrambled in a panicked fashion, a few of them running into each other as they dashed in opposite directions, others clumsily slipping on the damp plank wood, and some merely ran like headless chickens with no definite direction in mind.
“They’ll treat you well in Aurecia, girl,” The captain slipped back into his velvety tone once more. You supposed this was his way of apologizing… or, the closest thing to an apology you’d ever get from a pirate. “Just try to accept it and it won’t seem as bad. This lot here won’t hurt you in the meantime. I’ll make sure of that.” He gestured to the rest of the men who were settling back into their daily routines. You were surprised to see that they were already hard at work; manning the sails, scrubbing the decks, navigating the ship, so on so forth. The life of a pirate definitely wasn't an easy one.
You said nothing in return, staring blankly at the glinting ocean. The hollow clunk, clunk, clunk of his peg leg fading away was a sure sign that the captain was gone. You couldn’t bring it in yourself to watch him go.
This was most probably the worst possible time to cry. At this point, you were surprised your sore eyes could still manage to produce tears, considering how dehydrated you were. It was obvious that some of the pirates were still watching you, pausing mid-job. You tried to ignore them and hung your head sullenly as dry sobs rumbled in your chest.
You were stuck floating in a gigantic cesspool of saltwater, and yet your body had the audacity to produce even more. It was this very water you were bobbing on that most probably filled Wooyoung’s lungs as he gave up his last breath. The thought did nothing but make you weep harder.
Pirates really had no designated time to have luncheon and supper, but their stomachs all seemed to revolve around roughly the same hours. By the time the golden of the sun was grazing against the deep green waters and the sky was bleeding a strange shade of amaranthine, they were all shouting out complaints of hunger and trotting to the small kitchens below deck to have supper.
You were hungry, but also sure that if you had even a morsel of bread, you would heave it right back out. The day was spent with you gazing at the rocking waters, bustling pirates, and the large, tattered flag that hung proudly way above you. On occasion, you tried pleading to the pirates who were passing by, but none of them so much as glanced towards you. It seemed as though they took their captain’s orders to heart.
And so, after hours and hours of being neglected, imagine your surprise when one particular pirate sheepishly walked up to you, a little after all the others had disappeared below the deck to eat.
At first, you hadn’t noticed the quiet man because you had your stinging eyes shut, trying to block off the last and harshest glares of the sun as it sank under the edge of the world.
He cleared his throat once, and your eyes flew back open, startled.
“You must be starving,” He said.
The first thing you noticed about him was the strangely soft shade of pink his hair was. It wasn’t unsimilar to the color of Yunho’s hair, and you found yourself wondering how the kind giant of a man would react knowing that you lost Wooyoung.
“Oh,” He gestured to the brightly-hued strands on his forehead. “I’m half fairy. Everybody looks at me funny when they first see my hair.”
Snapping out of your thoughts, you observed the man in front of you suspiciously. You had little to say in reply to the strangely personal fact he told you, and so you bit down on your tongue and let silence further consume you.
He had an angular face and complementing sharp features, but he bore a timid expression in an unexpectedly stark contrast. What was this fairy-man doing on a pirate ship? He didn’t look at all like the rest of the crew. The others were sunburnt and filthy and rugged. He, however, was somewhat well kempt, skin void of burns and scars and dirt. A loose cream-hued tunic was hung over broad shoulders, barely slung over his hardened chest, a leather belt tightened around the small of his waist and tucked into black trousers. It was quite a dignifying outfit in comparison to the rest of the crew clad in dirty rags and stolen clothes that didn’t match in the slightest. But for that, you could understand. Seeing the pirates randomly throw on haphazard articles of clothing, you thought back to when you were on the run with Wooyoung, stealing clothes off of drying lines and changing into whatever would fit.
The only thing that pushed the strange pink-haired man more towards the ‘rugged pirate’ side was a silver lip ring glinting with the late sunlight from the side of his bottom lip. In his eyes you saw gentle kindness, but you knew better than to trust him just yet.
“Are you hungry? I can sneak something up for you while everyone’s busy stuffing their face full.” He had a voice of honey and silk, tempting you to accept his generous offer. But you kept your mouth shut.
“I understand,” A sad, empathetic look crossed his face. “Sea sickness is the worst the first couple of days. From there, it’ll gradually get better once you get used to it. But please, drink some water.”
From out of nowhere, he brandished a pretty silver chalice and held it up to you, the metal stingingly cool against your lips. You would’ve been stupid to turn down the water, so you leaned forward slightly and slurped at the drink so quickly that some sloshed down your chin and dripped onto your chest.
“I can get you some more later,” He said, pulling the cup away as you gasped for air. “But I have to tell you something important first. My name is San, by the way.”
He had a name that roughly translated to ‘mountain’ in Old Cerulean. You thought it was a rather pretty name… fitting for such a pretty man.
“I just wanted to say this while no one was around,” San sucked in a deep breath, steeling his quaking nerves. “I believe you.”
The water had certainly drowned away the scratchy burn in your throat, so you were free to painlessly stutter out, “W-What?”
“I believe you,” He repeated. “It’s like you said… why would you lie?”
“You believe that I’m Y/N?” Your voice raised an octave or two higher, to which San shot you a warning look and glanced behind him as a precaution. If anybody heard or saw either of you, the captain would have his head. “Why?”
Hope was a dangerous thing. It muddled your brain and clouded your consciousness, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. So you looked upon the pink-haired pirate dubiously, furrowing your eyebrows.
“I might be the most gullible man out there,” San snorted, raising a hand to rub against the back of his neck. “You kinda fit the description in all the stories and legends. And you don’t look like you’re lying… I don’t know… it must be the fairy blood in me. My mother always knew when I was lying or telling the truth. She used to tell me that good people only truly lie when they want to protect others. But… you don’t have anybody here to protect. Not anymore, anyways.” There was a guilty, remorseful sort of look that flooded his face.
You were so relieved that you could’ve burst into tears right then and there.
“And… that man the others threw overboard… he kept saying your name. You might’ve had reason to lie to us, but he didn’t. Especially not then.” San spoke gently in a low tone, as if he were speaking to a frightened child. Something painful twisted in your stomach at his words. “So… yes, Y/N, I believe you.”
Then he leaned forward and quickly swiped his cool thumb over your damp cheek. You only then realized that you were crying again, flinching away from his touch at first, before relaxing your tensed muscles.
“Thank you,” was the only thing you could properly croak out. There were so many things you wanted to tell him. Help me. Let me out. Bring Wooyoung back. Take me away from here. Why are you helping me? What are you doing here?
Although none of your erratic thoughts were heard, you sagged in relief when he said, “I’ll try to talk to the captain about making a stop in Virelis.” As a tentative afterthought, he added, “I’m sorry about your friend.”
“I loved him,” You croaked out, surprising even yourself. “I didn’t know that I did.”
San flashed you a sad smile, “Some people never realize. You’re lucky that you did.” Then, he murmured after gesturing to your bloody hands and wrists, “I’m also sorry about them hurting you. I have a special coconut extract lotion that treats wounds and burns very well. I’ll try to sneak up something for you to eat, as well. We’ll have to wait until it’s completely dark, though.”
You had so much to tell him, so much to ask, so much to thank him for. The fairy-man rotated on the stub of his heel to walk away, and you whispered out, “San!” He glanced back at you with a curious expression, and you nodded your head, sincerely grateful, “Thank you.” The questions could wait, you supposed.
A smile so wide spread across his lips that his eyes almost disappeared. Around savage pirates practically all his life, he rarely ever heard those two strangely comforting words. He dipped his head politely and walked away, leaving you to your own overwhelming thoughts.
Sleep had taken you under its dark wing a little while after San left, however fitful and sporadic. Your head pounded as your swollen and aching eyes fluttered open, somewhat surprised to see that it was still dark. Where was San?
Then, as your consciousness shook away the foggy webs of sleep, your brain registered a faint singing voice. However, it wasn’t just any rotten pirates’ singing voice; it sounded as if a woman was wailing, but in the most beautiful way possible. The trembling vocal chords pierced through the night sky, high-pitched and ringing in your ears melodically. It was a song in a language you couldn’t understand, but the warbled words molded together sounded pure and whole, just about placing you under a trance. But of course, you were still quite dazed and confused from slumber, unable to clearly hear the singing voices. On top of that, the water seemed to be extra loud, splashes and waves thundering against the boat almost every five seconds.
Tired, you rolled your stiff neck. Strangely, you noticed that the deck in front of you was void of any pirates. Glancing to the side, there was not a single soul to be seen manning the navigational wheel. Your neck ached as you craned it to look upwards, squinting at the crows’ nest, just to see that it was equally empty. Where are they? you thought absent-mindedly.
The singing was getting louder, and you had to physically shake your head to get your mind out of the gutters. The ropes strained against the skin of your raw wrists even more when you shifted to look behind you.
The sight that you were met with had you reeling against the mast in panic.
Sirens. Dozens of them, sitting on moldy rocky ledges jutting out of the ocean waters. They were beautiful creatures, smooth skins tainted a faint green and shimmery silver hair just long enough to drape wetly over their breasts. They bore seductive expressions and parted their full lips to croon out the mesmerizing song in unison.
And the splashing against the boat? With a choked gasp of horror, the undisputed mystery of where all the pirates had gone was answered. One by one, they were marching off the planks, plummeting into the salty ocean waters, swimming as if their life depended on it, closer and closer to the beckoning sirens. They all held entranced expressions, some with gaping mouths and others with fully blown pupils of adoration and lust.
The sirens were far enough where you weren’t fully under influence, but much too close to be clear of mind. You had to count yourself lucky for being female; it was known that sirens had stronger effects on men. But you didn’t have much time to spare.
You suddenly became short of breath in panic. Where was San? Had he already jumped off? Blowing out a shuddering sigh, your neck trembled with great effort as you angled yourself to look back again. It was easy to spot his brightly-colored mane, the pink starkly bright in the moonlight.
“SAN!” You screamed to the best of your abilities, voice scratchy from your previous slumber. For a second, the fairy-man seemed to twitch slightly into your direction. A particularly high-pitched note echoed across the waters, just about slicing through any hesitation San might’ve held. Just like that, he turned completely away from you with a stupefied look, before hopping off the ship and plunging into the ocean.
A scream of protest ripped through your throat. There was no time to think… you could already feel their lulling voices numb the corners of your mind…
No. No, I have to get out of this.
With a quick glance back, a flare of hope ignited somewhere within your chest when you spotted a dagger just behind you, buried in the fraying wood of a grog barrel. Its handle was jutting out in your direction, the crooked blade void of rust and gleaming with reflected moonlight. Excruciating pain shot through your right arm as you twisted your wrist about, desperate to be freed of the knot. The hardest part was getting your hand through the tight loophole, groaning at the throbbing sensation.
After frantically yanking yourself upwards, you managed to wrench your right wrist free, covered with blood and scratches and blisters. Then, with no time to spare, you reached as far as you could behind you, towards the barrel. Your bones ached and cracked under the strain, but you pushed through with gritted teeth. Tears ran down your twisted features from the pain. With a final shriek, you lunged and wrapped your blood-slicken fingers around the hilt. The sick sound of your left shoulder popping had you screaming in pained misery, but there was no time to lament. You’d fix it up later.
It took little effort to extract the blade out of the rotting wood. You prayed not to drop the dagger as your hand trembled ruthlessly. Swallowing dryly, you raised the blade to your left wrist, and began hacking away at the ropes.
They were tough, coarse things, but gave way eventually, unraveling with each strand. You didn’t even have to cut through the whole thing until it was weak enough to break on its own.
You were free.
The sirens’ song grew louder and louder, and frantically, you wobbled away from the mast and to the side of the ship, steadying your shaking legs against the rail. Every fibre of your being screamed at you to stop and jump into the water, swim to the beautiful melody that came from just over there…
“No!” You managed to moan out. Your left arm was completely useless; you weren’t able to move the limb at all. The tearing of your shirt as you somehow managed to rip off the sleeve rang in your muddled head alongside the foreign words quavering through the air. You used the dagger to slice the cloth in half, and shoved each piece into your ears. It was disgusting and uncomfortable, but it would have to suffice. The sirens’ voices sounded little other than muffled hums, and though you had to stay cautious, you could already feel your mind clear tremendously.
The last of the pirates had just clambered off the side. You would’ve heard the large splash he made as he cannon-balled into the waters if it weren’t for your make-shift ear plugs.
You were tired. You were thirsty, aching, sleepy, and just about every other bad feeling one could possibly have. Unfortunately, the ship was still heading right towards the sirens, no doubt turned off-course by a crewmate heavily under their influence.
And so, you dragged your heavy limbs over to the navigational wheel, letting out a soft tormented wince when the small act of curling your quaking fingers around the wooden spokes were enough to send what felt like great electric shocks of pain up your spine. Then, you spun the wheel one-handed, over and over and over again until the massive beauty of a ship leaned away from the sirens (who were clearly enraged, hissing and baring their sharp teeth), silkily gliding over the waters. Warm ocean air billowed into your face and tousled your hair, and for the first time since you’ve gotten onto the ship, you didn’t feel like throwing up.
A part of you felt bad for leaving San, the only pirate to show you even just a morsel of empathy. Who knows, maybe he’d survive. He was half fairy, after all. You muttered out a soft soft wish of good luck for the pink-haired man, though you doubted that would do much.
Your mind was quick to leap from the fate of San to a man who’s been in your life for much longer. Where would you be if it weren’t for him?
Wooyoung wasn’t one to just… give up like that. He couldn’t be dead. Perhaps you were being a fool for holding onto hope, but you would gladly welcome that title if there was even the slightest chance that he was still out there, alive and breathing.
And so, you steeled your nerves by drawing in a grand breath. Your lips settled in a firm, determined line.
You were going to go find Wooyoung.
Where were you to start?
Dozens and dozens of maps and scrolls were tossed about as you pillaged through the papers, in search of a chart that would actually be of use to you. Much to your dismay, there weren’t any maps whatsoever that held the directions to Virelis. There goes that plan down the drain. Where else was there to go?
The sling that held up your left arm was procured hastily from the medbay after you popped your dislocated shoulder back into its socket with a quailing shriek. The pain had faded into a dull ache, but at least now you could wiggle your fingers. That was a good sign, you supposed. Your stomach was full with what you could find in their kitchen pantries (which was mostly just stale biscuits and half-cooked fish), and to be honest, you felt better than you have in a long, long time, despite the circumstances.
There was still the problem of finding him, though. If you could recall correctly, you were only around a days’ sail away from where they had kicked Wooyoung off.
But that would mean turning back to Cerulea. And that… definitely didn’t sound smart. You rubbed your fingers against your throbbing temple, taking a long swig of refreshing water from a pitcher. Gentle light was filtering in through the small circular window, illuminating the yellowed maps in such a way to make them look golden. There was no time to appreciate the simple beauty of this, however, because a stupid, moronishly foolish, plan was forming in your head.
What if you went back to Cerulea? Would Wooyoung be waiting for you there? Maybe he was staying with Yunho while he got back on his feet. After all, it’s not like he could swim all the way to Virelis, especially with how injured he was. Cerulea was a much closer, safer plan. It was the only place he could go, right?
Unease twisted your stomach at the thought of going back to the country that locked you in a dark dungeon for moons upon moons upon moons. Deep down inside, you knew that no part of Wooyoung would ever willingly go back to Cerulea. Not after all he went through trying to get out. But what else were you to do? And even if he weren’t there, at least you’d be able to inform Yunho on what happened. Then the sweet giant of a man could help you find him.
You stood up, compasses and maps slipping off your lap, respectively clanging and fluttering towards the ground noisily. With large, determined strides, you exited the navigational room and to the main deck, where the steering wheel was situated. Warm, salty breeze whispered against your ears, calm and encouraging.
“I’ll find you, Wooyoung,” Your words were swiftly stolen by the wind. You hoped that gale would be kind enough to carry the message over to him, however impossible it was.
Halfway across the world, laid an unconscious dark-haired man, clad in nothing save for his smallclothes and bandages tightly wrapped around his skull. He was situated stiffly atop a narrow bed, scars and bruises still quite fresh and clearly visible against his paler-than-usual skin.
Wooyoung awoke with a startled choke of a gasp, sore eyes flying wide open. There was a searing pain in his abdomen as he sat up, wheezing and hissing in agony. He took in his surroundings with a panicked demeanor, gaze landing on the mildly surprised fair-headed figure with striking green eyes standing by the doorway, fresh bandages in his palms. He’s an elf, Wooyoung realized after a long moment of gaping, noticing the ever-so-slightly pointed ears poking out beneath silvery locks and the infamous nature-woven clothes only elves wore.
“Took you long enough,” He said in a thick Elvish accent, followed by a beguiling snort. “I thought you would stay asleep forever. I’m Yeosang.”
Wooyoung blinked sluggishly once, twice, and a third and fourth time for good measure. He knew very well that he should probably answer. After all, elves were widely known to be an easily offended kind. But for the love of everything he held dear, he just couldn’t seem to crack his lips open.
The two stared at each other awkwardly for a second more. Then promptly, his eyes rolled into the back of his skull as his upper half crumpled onto the bed, instantaneously returning into the sweet relief of unconsciousness.
#ateez x reader#ateez wooyoung x reader#wooyoung x reader#ateez#ateez wooyoung#jung wooyoung#jung wooyoung x reader#ateez x you#wooyoung x you#jung wooyoung x you#ateez smut#ateez scenarios#ateez drabbles#ateez imagines#wooyoung smut#ateez fanfictions#ateez fanfics#ateez series#ateez medieval au#wooyoung imagines#wooyoung drabbles#wooyoung scenarios#wooyoung fanfiction#ateez fantasy au
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Hello my lovelies!!
Ok let me just start by saying- 600 followers?! Are you kidding?? Thank you all SO much! I can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am to have every single one of you interested enough in my blog to be following me! Thank you thank you thank you!!!🥰🥰
Now I’m gonna repay you by breaking your hearts!
This is my first try at anything super angsty, so if your gonna yell at me afterwards please feel free to do so in the comments or in my ask box or even just reblogging and cursing me in the tags🤣 please let me know what you think!
TW: Major character death, mentions of vomiting and allusions to body mutilation- nothing graphic just vaguely indicated but whatever you are comfortable with is up to you! If any of what I warned makes you uncomfortable please don’t read! Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction!
Update: I’m sorry- I posted this and for some reason the tag list wasn’t working but it should be now! If your username has changed please let me know so I can tag you properly down below!❤️
Summary: Someone important dies. Cardan deals with it. Grab your tissues❤️
Final Resting Place
“I’m…I’m so sorry.” The folk are not in the habit of apologizing, much less for something that is so common. It matters not, Cardan has ceased listening, has heard nothing after The Bomb uttered those damning words.
Jude is dead.
He recalls, distantly, a time when Nicasia drug him halfway to her underwater kingdom, wishing to show him its beauty and splendor. He recalls how helpless he felt, how he could breathe but it wasn’t right. How he was silenced and the pressure from the water was crushing his chest so painfully it didn’t matter if he could breathe or not.
This feels near exactly like that.
“Your Highness?” Someone is asking a question he doesn’t hear. He doesn’t even ask them to repeat themselves. All he can do is state,
“She is to be brought back here. Burned on the pyres.” A Queen’s funeral. The only funerals the folk bothered to observe.
Someone, The Roach, likely, grunts in disapproval, “She… we…are not able to bring the body back. It was…”
Cardan isn’t sure what part of that statement makes his stomach churn the worst, the fact that they just referred to his wife, their queen as a body, or the fact that there apparently isn’t too much of her body to bring back.
He tries not to think, not to guess at what death was so brutal that she doesn’t even have a body left.
And that really is it, isn’t it? She, his fierce, vibrant, deadly queen, who always looked over her shoulder, is- was always so cautious, secretly ruling over a land that was designed to kill her, the mighty Jude Duarte, slayer of the folk-
Killed by something mortal.
In the mortal lands.
Where he sent her.
It was almost laughable, Cardan did laugh. Hysteria bubbling up in his chest like bile, which it might have been because suddenly the churning in his stomach was no longer violent but imminent and he’s throwing himself into the bathing chamber.
He doesn’t hear the court of shadows, her court of shadows, retreating as he retches into the chamber pot.
~.~
Time has lost all meaning.
It’s been days, weeks, months. The days pass in a blur, marked only by those who knew what she meant to him coming to give their condolences. Like it could lessen the pain of her being gone. Lessen the pain that came with the knowledge that this was his fault.
It was so ironic it hurt. Had he not exiled her to the mortal lands for her protection, she would have still been alive, ruling where she belonged, right by his side.
And now, she would never get to rule her kingdom openly. She would never share his throne, his crown, his name, his bed again.
She was gone before he got to have her.
And it was his own damn fault.
He refused to hold any audience with Taryn. It wasn’t fair, her twin was dead and she was parading around wearing her face. He knew that should he take one look at her, he would break beyond recognition.
The only thing keeping him alive on the throne being Jude’s memory, how she would have wanted, commanded him to keep ruling, even if she wasn’t there to do it with him.
He did allow an audience with Viviane, once. She had all but demanded it and would hardly take no for an answer. She arrived, eyes puffy and bloodshot, looking as terrible as he felt which didn’t seem fair either.
He wanted to be alone in his pain, for it to be all his own, because no one could understand, could relate to how he felt for her. Why should they share in his grief? The newest plate of armor he has cast over his heart?
She wasted no time on condolences, which in itself was strangely comforting. She got straight to the point, “You missed the funeral.”
“A mortal tradition.” His voice was hoarse with disuse. Had he gone so long without speaking to anyone? That didn’t seem possible.
“Dammit Cardan! She would have wanted you there.” Her anger was refreshing, a nice change of pace compared to the complete emptiness that was left behind in the shape of a mortal footprint upon his heart.
He almost wants to disagree, but that would make no sense. The folk can’t lie, not even half-fae.
When he doesn’t respond, Vivi crosses her arms, “Will you at least come visit her? Say your goodbyes? You have to say yes, we both know you need it.”
And painful as it was, she was right. The one thing that hurt worse than Jude being dead, knowing that it was because of him, was that he didn’t get to say goodbye. That all his letters to her went unanswered. That she died without knowing how much he needed her. How much he missed her and all she was to him. How much he…
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he silently rises and follows Vivi to his queen’s final resting place.
~.~
The mortal world is bright and loud and reeks of iron and is so alive it feels audacious. How dare anyone else continue living when someone from this place, someone so important, so above them was forced to forfeit that right?
The plot of land where she- what’s left of her- is laid to rest is small. The headstone sits, new and clean, next to two more that are dulled with age.
Justin and Eva Duarte.
Madoc had somehow procured graves for the two mortals he slaughtered, and now their youngest daughter lay beside them.
They are standing there for ten minutes before Vivi speaks, “You know, when someone visits the grave of someone they love, they usually look at it.” Her voice is monotone as she stares at the slab of stone sitting at the head of a patch of newly sprouted grass.
He’s not sure he can. If he looks, if he sees there is in fact a final stop, a final holding place for this restless mortal, then he will know it is real. That this wasn’t all some elaborate trick or punishment of her own making to get back at him for her banishment.
Foolish as it is, that was a dark hope buried deep inside him. That she was really still there, biding her time, waiting until he was just ruined enough to waltz back into his life to teach him a well deserved lesson. Perhaps on gratitude, on not taking things for granted.
It would be such a Jude thing to do.
A hand rests on his shoulder and he nearly flinches away, “I’ll give you a minute.”
Her footsteps recede, utterly fae and silent. So unlike the ones he desperately wishes to hear a final time.
It takes him maybe two minutes more for his eyes to finally find the headstone. He is shocked to find he can barely read what is inscribed upon it through tears that have filled his eyes.
Jude Duarte-Greenbriar
Beloved sister and wife
2001-2019
His tears come in earnest, then. How had he never known she took his name as well? Had cared enough to do so? Or was this something her sisters did to spite him? He pressed his lips together in an attempt to stifle any sobs trying to break free.
Cautiously, so cautious she would be proud, he runs his fingers over the inscription of her name- their name. When he knows his voice will be steady, he speaks.
“Well, wife.” He presses his eyes closed as a fresh wave of tears pushes at his senses, “I doubt either of us saw it coming to this.” Gently, he tugs something out of the satchel he brought with him.
“It was yours. For you to wear upon your return. For when you came home.” He couldn’t stop his voice from breaking as he carefully laid the crown down at the foot of the headstone, glamoured so mortals would see it as a pile of painted rocks.
“I guess in a way, I got what you thought I wanted. For you to…” He can’t even bring himself to say it. He had never wanted this. When in palace lessons, he thought that dreams plagued with her scent, her voice, her touch had been the most horrid nightmares. He was wrong, this was far worse than any dream he had of her angry face, her soft hair. This was a nightmare terrifying enough to cripple the strongest of men.
“Well. I guess it doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t matter that I wish I could take back what I said about you in our childhood. That you would return to the earth, worm food.” He shudders, recalling that he had said those things while imagining that they would have followed a long life. One filled with her aging slowly due to living in Elfhame. Secret imaginings he only allowed himself in the darkest hours of the night- ones where he was by her side and they wreaked havoc together for the rest of their long, full lives. His next words are whispered, “I never imagined it would happen so soon.”
His hand returns to the headstone, gripping the cool rock tightly.
There is nothing left to say aside from one final message. Nothing left to do other than leave this place and continue on in his immortality, letting her fade into the backs of everyone’s memory as the Last Mortal Queen.
Taking a final shaky breath, Cardan utters the truth he had spent nearly his whole life repressing, trying to lie his way around. The words he now so desperately wishes he had said to her before he cast her out of their home in hopes of preventing this very thing from happening.
With one final look upon the place his wife, his queen is forever to rest upon, he whispers,
“I love you.”
~.~
Years and years and years later, young children of the gentry sit in their history lessons amongst their mortal classmates, and learn of the beautiful, treacherous life that was led by the Last Mortal Queen, Jude Duarte-Greenbriar
And that is that! Did I make you cry? Do you want to throw crumpled tissues at my head? Let me know!❤️ (I left out details of Jude’s death on purpose, it’s up to your imagination to come up with what happened to her, sorry for pain😬)
Tag list:
As always, please let me know through the comments or my inbox or any other way you are comfortable with and let me know if you wish to be added to my list so you can be alerted to my future works!
@maleckanejnessienjurdansolangelo @woodsbeyond1 @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @thewickedkings @aneurwin @snusbandxknifewife @jurdanhell @andromeddea @dressedindustandshadows @thesirenwashere @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @unidentifiedblackthorn @iminsanenotobsessed @df3ndyr @brittneyal @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @fuzzypineapples-blog @nahthanks @charrise @thefolkofthefic @theviolettulip @embersfromink @kittkatandbooboo
Till next time, loves!🥰
#cardan greenbriar#jude duarte#jurdan#the cruel prince#tcp#jude x cardan#angst#I’m so sorry#I made myself cry writing this#actually I was fine writing it#but when I reread to edit it#then I cried#if Jude is your comfort character I am SO sorry#fluff to come in the future#I promise#you guys are incredible#a test in seeing how sad I can make my writing before I can’t even write it#the folk of the air#let me know if anyone reads my tags#I think I’m so witty and I hide it in here#aaaaaaaaaangst#no fluff#trigger warning: vomit#trigger warning: major character death#trigger warning: allusions to body mutilations#I’m so sorry Jude#my home girl and I killed her off#ok I gotta stop with the tags or someone is gonna hit me with a shoe#ha! even tumblr wants to him me with a shoe: I reached the tag limit!
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Part 5: YangYang, The Rich, Little Asshole
➔Pairing: YangYang x Reader (Female) | Hendery x Reader (Female)
➔Other Members/ Characters: Kun
➔Genre: Smut (+ angst, + fluff, + plot)
➔Warnings: vaginal penetration, fingering, angst
➔Word count: 5,436
➔Summary: You don’t know what you do. You don’t even know who you are. Some would call you a whore. Some would refer to you as a sex worker. All of your clients would say you’re damn good at your job.
MASTERLIST
Kun leaned against his car and folded his arms against his chest. The wind was picking up, so you pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands and hunched over. No matter what, you wouldn’t wait in his car, like he asked. All Kun wanted was to grill you about who was on the other end of the phone call.
“You can go home.” you said. “ I don’t need you to wait with me.”
“I can’t leave you here alone,” he said. “But, it’s cold, so we should wait inside your place.”
“No.” you said, knowing that if you waited inside, Kun would try and worm his way back into your good graces, and you would let him.
Kun sighed. “I don’t...know how to fix this.”
You turned away from him. Any direction that wasn’t Kun’s direction was good enough. You could still feel the clutches of alcohol around your mind, squeezing until it was pulp. You started moving your feet around to keep warm from the chilly night air, but there was an iciness to you that wouldn’t melt. For the most part, ignoring Kun felt good. You liked seeing him waiting on you, maybe a little jealousy creasing the lines on his face.
To pass the time, you took out your phone and looked at your messages and emails. A little voice in your brain told you to delete them all. No one would know or care. You could start over tomorrow and regain control of yourself. You could come clean to Lucas, break things off with Kun, give Hendery the apology you know he deserved, and tell men like Ten and Xiaojun that they deserved far better than the likes of you.
You looked at the plethora of messages from another possible future client you were ignoring. He had been pushing to meet you for weeks. Every message title was the same kind of vibrant greeting, followed by the usual “I don’t usually do this…” You closed your phone and wished you were also the type of person that didn’t do this. What you did, you also didn’t know how to fix.
You looked at Kun. He wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were on the windows to your place, his face pondering questions you knew you would never answer.
“I’m moving,” you said. “I’m moving in with Lucas. In a few weeks, you won’t know me anymore.”
Without fully registering what you had said, Kun touched his hand to his heart. “I think I’ll always know you.”
You thought about taking off your shoe and throwing it at him, but violence was never the answer. “You never intended for us to be together, did you?”
Kun shifted from one foot, to the other. “It’s complicated.”
You shook your head. “I really thought you would, you know? Leave her. Not leave your kids. I knew you weren’t that type of man, and I’d never want you to be. But, Kun, imagining a life with you was too easy. It was too fun, too distracting, too much of a fairy tale.”
“My feelings were real.” he said. “I’ve meant everything I’ve said up until this point.”
“Were real?”
“Are real.” he corrected himself. “But you won’t let me in. If I knew you were like this, I would have broken it off a long time ago.”
Again, you shook your head. “You have no idea what you want.”
Kun opened his mouth to speak. You didn’t hear what he said, just watched the way his lips told lie after lie.
Of course he believes he knows what he wants, you thought. He has the right job, the big house, the pretty wife. He’s a father, a friend, and a good son. He’s handsome and good at sex. He knows all the right things to say.
You stayed silent until a car pulled up. The car was black, not unlike the one that Ten sent your way, and all the ones before and after it. The only difference was the boy hanging out of the window, his arms raised above his head, and his hair flying in the wind.
“Good evening.” he said, his slight German accent making your body perk up. “Your ride is here.”
YangYang. 20. Self-professed rich, little asshole. Daddy’s money, but not enough of daddy’s love, YangYang liked to dip his fingers into many honey pots. In the beginning, you weren’t sure you could keep up with him sexually, but as it turned out, you could. You and YangYang were purely sex and company, nothing more and nothing less. It was the most straightforward sexual partnership you had.
Kun looked at the sleek, black car and scowled. He was so sheltered away from your real life, that it was his first taste of the person you were with other men. Judging by his face, he was angry with you, but more angry at himself for being angry in the first place. The wheel of lies would never end, for him or for you.
“Isn’t he a child?” Kun asked, loudly enough for YangYang to hear him over the car's engine.
“Me?” YangYang said, looking mock-offended. “A child? Mind your manners, old man.”
The car came to a smooth stop and YangYang got out. He was wearing pajamas and a robe. He knew how ridiculous he looked, but he didn’t care. He was what he was. You looked down at the slippers on his feet and smiled. The smile stopped as soon as Kun spoke again, and YangYang noticed your reaction.
“Old man?” Kun asked. “I’m not o-”
“-Is everything okay?” YangYang asked you, not sparing a second look at Kun.
You nodded. The best thing about YangYang was that he never asked too many questions. If you said you were alright, you were alright. He motioned to the car door hanging open and said, “Your carriage awaits.”
As soon as you made a start to leave, Kun came from around his car. He sunk down to his knees on the asphalt in front of you. You looked down at him, everything in you wanting so badly to take him into your arms, to forgive him for the night, take him up to your apartment and fall asleep against his body. It was until you looked at how uninterested YangYang was in Kun that you were faced with reality.
“Don’t walk out of my life like this,” Kun said. “I’m here begging you, on my knees, on this street in front of everyone. Give me another chance. We can make it more than just sex, I promise.”
“You have a baby on the way.” you said.
YangYang’s eyes widened. “That’s fucked up, bro.”
“Goodbye, Kun.” you said.
You got in the car and stared straight ahead, not daring to catch Kun’s eyes . YangYang slid in next to you. He didn’t put his hand on your knee. He didn’t kiss you. He didn’t ask you what was going on in your life, or if you were okay. It was something you really liked about YangYang: how little he cared about what went on in other people’s lives. He was the right person to call.
The only thing YangYang asked about Kun was if he was also a rich asshole and you replied, that no, Kun was just an asshole.
“To my place?” YangYang asked.
“Yes, to your place.”
YangYang lived by himself in a penthouse apartment with two floors and a view that normally would take your breath away had your heart not been shattered into splintered pieces. A fun, colorful slide ran from the upstairs to the downstairs. There was graffiti art on the walls, splotches of neon colors on formally stark, white walls as a result of YangYang’s boredom. His style of decor was haphazard and typical of a twenty year old boy, in that none of it made any sense. He kept his fridges stocked with energy drinks, and his pantry stocked with more snacks than you had in all of your places combined. It was a much different vibe from all of the other rich men you entertained. Stepping inside of his penthouse made you feel like a child again. There was magic in every corner, but sadly, you felt none of it.
“You know I don’t pry,” YangYang began. “But you look really sad, like a sad dog.”
“Sorry.”
“Can I help with anything?”
You inhaled. You held your breath. When you exhaled, YangYang had moved on from the conversation. You set your phone on his coffee table next to a set of legos. YangYang walked upstairs to where his bedroom was. Through the glass partition, you could still see him. He removed his robe and ruffled his own hair. You turned to look down as a long-haired cat brushed against your leg.
“Hey little man,” you said. “Have you missed me?”
You and YangYang didn’t meet up that frequently. He was always horny, but he had a large amount of people he went to, so that every need was met. You didn’t know what other things he was into, but his times with you were relatively vanilla.
The cat meowed at the same time you heard YangYang barreling down his slide. You met him at the end, a playful smile on your lips.
“I really appreciate you coming to get me,” you began. “I know we weren’t scheduled this month.”
“No problem,” he said. “I could use the company. Things can get a little lonely way up in the sky.”
You never asked why YangYang didn’t have a steady girlfriend. He was cute in a really sweet, younger brother way. You never saw him as a brother figure because that would be pretty gross, but there was something about YangYang that made you very fond and protective of him.
“Anyway, “ he said. “I can tell you want to get some sleep. I’ll leave you be. You know where my guest room is”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Early. Tons of breakfast. Me and you. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”
“Yeah, it does.” you said, meaning it.
Even though you knew his place like the back of your hand, YangYang walked you to the guest bedroom. You and him had fucked in there only once before, but it was always offered to you as a place to get away for awhile. The only reason you never had sex in there much was because the room itself was so plain and formal. You figured the lack of life made YangYang uncomfortable to be in for long periods of time. Beyond the double doors and the slide, and all of these grandiose things he grew up around, he wasn’t a little, rich asshole. He wasn’t a playboy. He was just Liu YangYang, a lonely boy living in a lonely life.
You didn’t want to shed any more tears for Kun, or spare another thought about him. Before you went to sleep, you cried by yourself as a way to let go. You tucked your knees to your chest and you let all of the feelings pour out of you, your tears soaking into freshly cleaned sheets. You tossed and turned until the early morning, your night demons coming to haunt you. When you woke, you didn’t feel rejuvenated like you wanted, and Kun was still infiltrating the spaces in your mind you kept for yourself.
You sat up with a start, too disoriented to understand where you were, at first. Your head was pounding. It might have been normal to sulk in bed for a little while, but you got up and went to the on-suite bathroom to wash up. You pulled your sweatshirt and shirt off until you were in your bra, splashed water on your face, and gave yourself a good look.
“I think you look pretty.”
You jumped. YangYang was standing in the doorway. He had a fresh pile of clothes in his hands, as if he knew what you were up and doing.
“I didn’t mean to be a creep.” he said. “There are cameras everywhere, and I thought I might come and see if you needed these.”
You took the clothes from him and looked at yourself in the mirror after he walked out. He was flattering you. Your make-up and hair were a mess. Your eyes were puffy. You looked like you had been ridden hard and put away wet.
“I hate this.” you said
You looked at the clothes YangYang brought: a pair of jeans that looked like they might fit you, one of his t-shirts and a hoodie. Quickly, you put the clothes on, put up your hair using an elastic, and wiped away left behind mascara that was clinging to your lower lashes. You brushed your teeth with your fingers and some toothpaste, and went downstairs. You didn’t use the slide.
Downstairs, YangYang was leaning against his kitchen counter in a pink apron. The dining room table was full of food that he didn’t cook, pastries of every color and shape, a plate of rolled eggs stacked high, and many more things to satisfy his sweet tooth. You knew he didn’t make any of the food, but seeing him act like he was the chef tickled you.
“A feast fit for a queen.” he said.
You sat at the table. You weren’t feeling hungry, and you certainly didn’t feel like a queen. You looked at the food. It was such a wasteful array of things you and him would barely touch, and it made you sad. Your mind was starting to wander as you looked over everything, your eyes beginning to glaze over and replay memories behind them.
“Ah, that’s never good,” he said. “I know that look. Can I try getting your mind off of him? I could go back and fight him. He looked weak.”
You looked his way. “I wish it were that easy.”
YangYang was the type of boy who would wear absolutely nothing underneath his apron. He would lead you into the kitchen, put you on top of his counter and take your hand to brush it against the imprint of his cock. Marathon sex would ensue, and some time later, when your limbs were tangled in his, you would let him take you again. But the person before you tore off his apron and was perfectly dressed underneath. He looked tired, like he was dealing with his own personal issues. YangYang came and sat beside you, all the sympathy in the world, and none of the pity in his eyes.
“We can do whatever you want.” YangYang said. “I could take you for a day out on the town. We could go to an arcade and play claw machines until I’m out of pocket change. I’ll win you a stuffed bear and link my arm with yours, grease from french fries on our fingertips. We could stuff our faces here and pass out on my couch, you with the fuzzy blanket you like, and me with the remote control on my belly. We could pretend to be strangers that just met on the train. I’d sit next to you and tell you about my life. We could be anybody but us for today.”
“Honestly, all of that sounds good.” you said. “Being anyone else but me. ”
YangYang smiled, leaned in and whispered, “ You and me both, but, I quite like you how you are.”
“You might be the only one.”
“I doubt it.”
YangYang covered his hand over yours. You felt grateful for all the people in your life who tried to make things easier for you. Those people were never forgotten by you. Amongst all of the bad choices you made on your part, there was always someone who was ready to see the best in you. You could see it in YangYang’s eyes, the way he didn’t see some poor girl in love with a married man. He didn’t see the person who had sex for money, or the one cheating and keeping secrets from her boyfriend. He saw you as what you were, and the beauty of what you could be.
“Do I have to choose right now?” you asked.
YangYang pursed his lips. “No. We could just sit here until our asses go numb.”
You laughed. “Okay.”
“We could talk.” YangYang offered. “I know you and I aren’t talkative, but the option is there. I kind of need a friend right now.”
Making friends in the industry was one of the reasons why you still kept the job, even though you were mostly unhappy. In your loneliness, and in your ugliness, there were still people who wanted to be around you. They wanted your company. They needed your company. They smiled when you came around, and it was genuine, and infectious. On a deeper level, you suspected you were masking all of your real issues by seeing men, by being their fantasy, but you weren’t willing to dive into it too much.
So, as a friend to YangYang, you listened to what he had to say. You placed your head on your hands and watched him speak, his youth disappearing with every word. Not once were you lost in your own problems. Not once did you think of Kun, or Lucas, or Hendery.
“I don’t mean to unload all of my stuff on you,” YangYang said, leaning back in his chair. You noted how much younger he looked when he was done speaking, how much weight was lifted from his shoulders. “It feels good getting it out. That much is true.”
“Good.” you said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give more advice.”
YangYang scrunched his nose. “I don’t think I need it. Just needed someone to listen to me rant.”
You lifted your head from your hands and looked out at the view from his penthouse windows. You wanted to tell YangYang that you needed him, too, but you didn’t. You felt scared, like your own vulnerability would show itself once YangYang showed his. You shifted in your chair and didn’t look at him again until he called your name.
“You’re too good for him.” he said. “You’re too good for all of them.”
“Mmm, if only that were the truth.”
You felt the itch as soon as he started speaking. You would rather scratch it with sex to shut YangYang up, to keep him from going further. That’s how your life always worked. You used your body to forget, to shut up the world for one second. You fucked to forgive yourself. It took all you had not to reach out and start something with YangYang that you weren’t feeling, just because you could.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” YangYang asked.
Expecting the worst, you fought hard to keep the surprise from your face. YangYang saw and laughed, his smile beaming. You found yourself smiling, too, wondering if his line of questioning was normal, because you were already grown up. You thought about the slide and the way he lived his life, and wondered if he still thought he hadn’t.
“Entertain me.” YangYang said. “An honest answer. Don’t even think about it. If you could be anything right now, right here, what would it be? Money doesn’t matter. Time doesn’t matter. It’s just you and doing something you love.”
“I don’t know.” you said.
“That’s not an answer.”
“But I genuinely don’t know.” you said.
It was true. Your mind drew a blank. For as long as you could remember, passions were really hard to come by. You weren’t interested in much when you were young. You didn’t have hobbies. You didn’t yearn to go places, or to learn new things. Suddenly, you felt the void in front of you, and it felt cold and empty.
“What about you?” you asked. “What do you want to be?”
YangYang got up from his chair and walked over to the windows. He gestured out at everything, at the city that curled up at his feet like his cat. You got up and joined him, your eyes penetrating the streets below. He stood behind you and touched your arms. You could feel his breath on your neck. He was hesitant in moving your hair, but he brushed it aside and laid the sweetest kiss on your skin. It was a tender moment that almost made you cry.
“I just want to be kind, I think.” he said softly in your ear. “I want to make a difference. I want to be happy and fulfilled. I think that’s all. I think that’s all there is.”
YangYang kissed your neck again. You leaned back into his body and watched a bird fly by, soaring through the sky, completely unafraid. You focused on your own breathing, on the silence that felt too thick with the past.
“Do you ever just want to quit the life you have and run away?” you asked.
“All the time.”
“Would you ever do it?”
“Maybe,” YangYang said. “I’m not sure if anyone would miss me.”
You turned around to face him. “ I would miss you.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.” he said. “Someone would miss me, so I would never do it. Keep myself here forever, perhaps until I’m too old. If you want to run away, I’m not sure it’s always a bad thing. Sometimes you just have to go and see what is out there for yourself. Sometimes you can’t worry about whether someone will miss you or not.”
“You are full of the philosophical today, YangYang.” you said.
“I always am.” he said. “We just never stop fucking long enough to listen.”
You smiled. “I mean, we could still fuck, if you want.”
He thought about it. Watching him think about it meant the world to you. But there was something about the way it felt with you both standing there that was anything but sexy. The time for fucking had passed, and you could feel the future hurtling towards you.
YangYang shrugged. “Sometimes you need a good fuck, and sometimes you just need a good hug. Both are good.”
With that, he held out his arms. You took a step forward and let YangYang hug you. You felt stiff until he started rubbing your back to comfort you. Gradually, you could feel your body and soul softening. You wrapped your arms around him for a long time, thankful that Liu YangYang was anything but a rich, little asshole.
“Where have you been?”
When you came home, Lucas had come out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, and his eyes narrowing with suspicion. Your brain created a scenario where you laid it all out in front of him, every lie you’d ever told, and every secret you’d ever kept. Catching him while he was vulnerable and naked could be the easy way out you were looking for. You almost did it, but the way he looked at you began to make you feel angry. It was like you were insignificant, and he was tired and bored of even looking in your direction.
“I was out with a friend.”
“All night?” he asked. “Must have been a good friend.”
You didn’t say anything, because anything at that moment could have been the truth. Instead, you walked further inside and went over to hug him. You were still riding the high of being around someone as free as YangYang. A part of you wanted to keep the sentiments going, to feel comfort in the life you were living. But Lucas moved away from you, denying your affections.
“Why were you in my clothes?” he asked. “What were you looking for?”
You had two seconds to come up with a lie that would sound convincing. When you didn’t, Lucas left the room. You were still standing in the same place when he came back fully dressed. You tried to brace yourself for the end of an era, for the argument that would burn you out for good. You were not prepared for the cold shoulder, or for Lucas taking his keys and walking out of the door.
You: I know you never wanted to hear from me again, but
Erase Message
You: I’m sorry I hurt everyone. I never meant to hurt you.
Erase Message
You: Can you come to our place?
Send Message
You sat on the edge of the hotel bed. You swore you could feel your soul being sucked out from your lungs and out through the grate in the wall where the heat should have come out. It was freezing in the room, and dark because of a busted lamp. It wasn’t ideal for someone who already felt as threadbare as the carpet, but it was the one place - the last place- he knew to find you.
After trying to reach Lucas through message, you had given up. You left the apartment after him and puttered downtown on your own. You had spent a lot of time thinking, watching, waiting. You were trying to recall a feeling other than the numbness you felt. YangYang’s warmth and vibrancy was gone. The hopefulness was slipping away every second you spent sitting on the bed, knees knocked together, and shoes grinding a piece of trash into the carpet.
You could feel yourself at the end of your rope. You had many choices, and all of them had you quitting your life as a sex worker and searching for a little slice of happiness. You wanted more for yourself, and from yourself. Spinning around in circles, your web of lies keeping you restrained, wasn’t your ideal life. All of those thoughts and more were rummaging around in your brain, when there was a soft knock on the door.
You weren’t sure he would come. If you were him, you didn’t think you would have made the choice. You got up and answered the door, swinging it open to see him standing there holding a wad of money in his fist, just like the last time you saw him. When he saw your face starting to screw up, Hendery’s eyes got comically wide.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was just a joke. A poorly timed joke. “
It wasn’t just the tears. You could feel your legs collapsing underneath you. You felt everything fall when you saw him. Luckily, right on time, Hendery caught you before your knees could buckle. He picked you up and carried you to the bed, his face full of worry.
“What happened?” he asked. He rubbed your head and sat with you in his arms, on the bed. “Did someone hurt you? What is it? Tell me.”
All of the words wanted to come out, but your mouth was like bumper-to-bumper traffic. You stuttered and felt yourself beginning to whine. You felt ugly that you were reacting in the way you were, but Hendery’s kind eyes began to soothe you.
“It was a stupid joke.” he said. “I’m sorry. I take it back. Please don’t cry.”
“It’s not you.” you managed to say.
You untangled yourself from his body and sat on the bed beside him. Hendery was inches away from kneeling down on the floor in front of you to look at your face. He kept looking into each of your eyes, his hands holding yours, moving to rub against your leg, and lastly, going to wipe the tears from your cheeks.
“Lucas?” he asked.
You shook your head no. Realizing that you were lying again, you tried a different approach. You moved yourself back on the bed so that you could face him. Taking the first step of honesty felt painful.
“You’re the first person in my life I was ever fully honest with,” you said. “But I still lie to you, too. Doesn’t that make me a bad person?”
“No,” he said. “I lie all the time. I lied when I said I never wanted to see you again.”
You took Hendery’s hands and held them. “I’m sorry. I should have stopped what we were doing when I knew you were falling in love with me.”
“I wouldn’t want that.”
“I know,” you said. “But it’s what should have happened. I thought I didn’t know why I did it, but I think I do now. It’s not an excuse. I’m not excusing anything I’ve done, but I want you to understand me. You made me feel something, Hendery. You made it easy to distract myself from my shitty life.”
Hendery leaned in to kiss you. Once you felt him on your lips, you were hungry for more. The long conversation you wanted to have with him was forgotten. You kissed him back and fed yourself. You got up on your knees on the bed with him and held your body against his.
“ I don’t care.” he said. “I just want you. You make me feel it all.”
You could taste your own salty tears in his kiss. Your mind was so barren of any kind of rational thought, so letting Hendery take off your clothes was easy. You did the same for him, touching his body like it held all of life's answers. You clung to his sweaty skin. You stretched yourself across the hotel bed, your body eager to be filled with something, anything.
Neither of you could stop. Hendery remembered everything you liked. He parted your legs and slipped his fingers inside of you. His eyes never left yours, even as you got on top of him, your hair matted to your face and a wild look in your eyes.
“Like old times. “ he said.
You placed your hand over his mouth. He licked your fingers and you smiled. You took him inside of your body, feeling very full. You could still see the love staring back at you, could feel it in the way he trembled as you fucked. You missed him. Each touch brought life back to a memory, like crayons coloring in a page.
Looking up at the ceiling made you feel like you were flying through space. You would have welcomed feeling lost, but Hendery pulled you back down to earth again. He sat up, shifting himself so you were riding him in a sitting position. He touched his nose to yours and held your back as you started moving.
You let yourself go, leaning backwards, feeling Hendery’s strong grip holding you up. His lips were on your collarbone, his tongue leaving trails all on your skin. It wasn’t why you invited him, but you always knew how to make him stay.
You laid on Henderys chest. Your body was exhausted, your brain even more so. Hendery looked content, like he had been waiting to see you again to feel that ecstasy. You were scared of letting him down again, but you wouldn’t think like that. Besides, after he came, he kept repeating that he knew you could never be together. You were grateful for his effort, but hearing him say it made you a little sad.
“I think I’m going to quit.” you said. “I’m not sure I can keep this up much longer.”
Hendery looked down, his chin doubled. You touched your fingers to his face and laughed. Seeing you smile made him smile.
“When?” he asked.
You could hear the hope in his voice. You wished it could rub off on you. You laid back down on his chest, your ear hot against his skin. You didn’t have an answer for him, and even if you did, you weren’t sure it was his to have.
Hendery got up to go to the bathroom, so you checked your phone. There were no messages from Lucas, none from Ten, none from Xiaojun, and definitely none from Kun. You looked through some of the old messages from possible clients and felt a pull towards them. Their happy, hopeful faces called out to you, begging you not to leave them.
You heard Hendery talking to himself in the bathroom and rolled over. You flicked through more clients, coming up on the one from before. His name was WinWin, and he was gorgeous. Too persistent, maybe, but he looked like a sweet man. Before things had gotten too crazy, you were thinking about entertaining the idea of adding on a new client to make things interesting. You clicked on his profile. You opened his messages and thought of something clever to write back.
If you were going to quit your job, you might as well have one last hurrah.
#nct#wayv#nct smut#wayv smut#lucas smut#hendery smut#winwin smut#kun smut#ten smut#xiaojun smut#yangyang smut#kun#ten#lucas#winwin#xiaojun#hendery#yangyang#nct fanfiction#wayv fanfiction#nct ten#nct kun#nct winwin#nct xiaojun#nct hendery#nct yangyang#nct lucas#there might be typos in this one#if you see one just ignore it lmao
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