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herrscherofinsanity · 8 months

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Claiming Hearts

Summary: 4 times Jimin gets jealous and 1 time she actually does something about it.

Fluff? I honestly don't know

Yu Jimin (Karina) x fem!reader

Word count: 1.9k

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Flowers

Jimin lingered by the school entrance, her gaze fixated on you, engaged in a conversation with a classmate. As the conversation progressed, a figure approached the girl Jimin had been staring at, flowers in hand, and a warm smile that ignited a pang of jealousy in Jimin's heart.

The vibrant petals seemed to dance in the air, capturing your attention as you graciously accepted the bouquet. Jimin's grip on her textbooks tightened, her knuckles turning white as she fought the internal battle of unspoken emotions.

"Flowers," Jimin thought, her mind echoing with unvoiced feelings. "Does she know how many times I've wanted to bring her flowers, to express what I feel?" The realization stung, a poignant reminder of the hesitations that had kept her from revealing her true emotions.

Amidst the sea of emotions, Jimin remained hidden, an observer to a scene that fueled the flames of longing within her. The laughter and camaraderie around her seemed to fade as she grappled with the ache of unspoken words.

Eventually, you bid farewell to your admirer, the flowers cradled delicately in your arms. Jimin, hidden in the shadows, watched as you disappeared around the corner. A sigh escaped her lips, a mixture of resignation and determination.

"I can't keep hiding," Jimin mused, resolving to confront the emotions that stirred within her. The path to expressing her feelings lay ahead, and with a determined stride, she ventured into the realm of vulnerability.

With the flowers as a poignant memory, Jimin set forth on a journey to unveil the truth hidden within her heart.

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2. Party People

The pulsating beat of music reverberated through the crowded room as Jimin navigated the sea of partygoers. Spotting you amidst the lively gathering, she couldn't help but marvel at how the ambient lights played on your features, casting a captivating glow.

However, the enchanting moment was abruptly interrupted. Jimin's eyes narrowed as she noticed a line of eager dancers forming around you, each extending an invitation to share a dance. The realization hit her like a sudden gust of wind, unsettling and stirring the familiar sensation of jealousy within.

Jimin observed from a distance, her fingers subtly clenching and unclenching as she contemplated the scene. The rhythm of the music seemed to synchronize with the erratic beats of her heart. It wasn't just about dancing; it was the idea of someone else encroaching on the intimate space Jimin yearned to occupy.

"Does she enjoy their company more than mine?" Jimin questioned, jealousy whispering doubts that lingered beneath her calm exterior. She wrestled with the conflicting emotions, the desire to join the dance battling with the fear of facing a truth she might not be ready to confront.

As the party continued to pulse around you, Jimin found herself at a crossroads. Should she step into the dance, embracing the opportunity to be close to you, or should she retreat and grapple with the jealousy that threatened to consume her?

The music carried on, echoing the unspoken sentiments that lingered in the air.

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3. Seating Arrangement:

The lecture hall buzzed with the hum of conversations as students settled into their seats. Jimin, ever attentive to your presence, scanned the room. Today's lecture seemed to hold an unexpected twist as Yunjin, a fellow classmate, approached you, saving you a seat next to her.

Jimin's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of discomfort settling in. The proximity of another person occupying the space Jimin had come to consider her own ignited a spark of jealousy. The seat next to you had always been Jimin's unspoken refuge, a silent agreement that transcended the need for words.

"Does she not want to sit with me?" Jimin pondered, the green-eyed monster whispering doubts that clawed at the edges of her composure. The internal struggle intensified as she debated whether to approach and stake her claim or to maintain a facade of indifference.

The choice lingered in the air, a silent challenge to confront the feelings that danced beneath the surface. Jimin, caught between the desire for closeness and the fear of rejection, watched as you settled into the newly claimed seat, the distance between you magnified by the invisible barrier of unspoken emotions.

As the lecture began, the unoccupied seat next to Jimin echoed with the weight of unexpressed sentiments. The dynamics of your connection seemed to shift, leaving Jimin grappling with the unforeseen challenge of redefining the unspoken bonds that had once held you two close.

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4. Three’s a crowd:

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm hues across the campus grounds as you and Jimin prepared to embark on your usual journey home together. It was a ritual you both cherished, a moment of solace amid the bustling routine of academic life.

However, on this particular day, a sudden addition to your duo caught Jimin off guard. As you stepped out of the campus gates, you casually invited Yeji, another one of your friends, to join you on the walk home. The unexpected intrusion ignited a spark of jealousy within Jimin, a flicker of discomfort at the prospect of sharing a cherished routine.

"Why would she invite someone else?" Jimin questioned, the unspoken fear of being replaced gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. The dynamics of your friendship, built on the foundation of shared moments, seemed to shift beneath the weight of unforeseen circumstances.

Jimin navigated the sidewalks in silence, her gaze occasionally flickering towards you and your unexpected companion. The trio moved through the fading daylight, the echoes of shared laughter laced with the unspoken tension that lingered beneath the surface.

The once familiar path felt different, Yeji’s unwanted presence casting a subtle shadow over the routine Jimin had come to cherish. Jimin, caught between the warmth of shared memories and the chill of uncertainty, pondered the significance of this unexpected company on the journey home.

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5: Taking matters into my own hands

Jimin strode through the bustling hallway, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of her footsteps. The day had taken an unexpected turn as she witnessed Nayeon, a senior known for her charm and confidence, approach you with an invitation that hung in the air like an impending storm.

"This can't go on any longer," Jimin determined, her gaze narrowing as she reached the precipice of her own internal struggle.

Without hesitation, she closed the distance between you, a surge of determination guiding her actions. The sight of you engaged in conversation with Nayeon fueled Jimin's resolve. She couldn't stand by any longer, watching others vie for the affections of the one who held her heart.

"y/n," Jimin's voice cut through the ambient noise, drawing your attention. Startled, you turned towards Jimin, your eyes widening at the urgency in the other girl's expression.

"We need to talk. Now." Jimin declared, seizing your arm and guiding you away from the curious gazes that lingered.

Confusion etched across your face as Jimin led you to an empty classroom, the door closing behind both of you with a resounding click. The confined space amplified the tension, setting the stage for a confrontation neither of you had anticipated.

"Jimin, what's going on?" you questioned, concern furrowing your brow as you faced the visibly distressed taller girl.

Jimin, her emotions teetering on the edge of revelation, took a deep breath. The floodgates of unspoken truths were about to open, and she could no longer suppress the torrent of feelings that threatened to consume her.

"I can't do this anymore, y/n," Jimin admitted, her voice laced with a mixture of frustration and longing. "I can't stand by and watch other people try to win you over when all I want is to be the one who makes your heart race."

A pregnant pause hung in the air as you absorbed Jimin's words, the gravity of the revelation settling between you two. The silence that followed was shattered by the weight of unspoken emotions.

In a vulnerable confession, Jimin laid bare the feelings that had tormented her. "I'm in love with you, y/n. I can't keep pretending that it doesn't hurt to see others vying for your attention."

The revelation hung in the air, a precipice between friendship and something more profound. You felt your own emotions surfacing looking up at Jimin with a mixture of surprise and realization.

"I... I had no idea," you whispered, your own confession echoing in the hallowed silence. "Jimin, I'm in love with you too."

The moment of revelation hung in the air, a delicate dance of vulnerability and acknowledgment. As you confessed your reciprocated feelings, a radiant smile illuminated Jimin's face, eclipsing the shadows of uncertainty that had lingered for too long.

With unabashed joy, Jimin surged forward, enveloping you in an exuberant hug. The confines of the classroom echoed with laughter and the lightness of newfound understanding. Jimin couldn't contain the whirlwind of emotions that cascaded through her, and in a burst of unrestrained elation, she twirled you around, your laughter intertwining like a melody that resonated with the cadence of shared affection.

"I can't believe we both felt the same way," Jimin exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with unbridled happiness. "y/n, would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?"

You gave Jimin the brightest smile she had ever seen, caught in the whirlwind of emotion and the newfound revelation, your eyes reflecting the shared joy between you. "Of course, Jimin. I'd love to go on a date with you."

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Bonus: Mine

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the school courtyard as students meandered through the scattered clusters of conversation. You and Jimin, now blissfully entwined in the magic of newfound love, strolled hand in hand. Yet, amidst the tranquil atmosphere, a familiar figure approached from the periphery.

Jimin's eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed Nayeon making her way toward you, a seemingly innocent smile adorning her features. A pang of protective jealousy surged within Jimin, prompting her to take swift action.

With a determined stride, Jimin intercepted Nayeon just as she reached you. Ignoring the subtle surprise in Nayeon's gaze, Jimin wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you close. In a bold declaration, Jimin pressed a gentle yet possessive kiss on your lips, the embodiment of claiming what was rightfully hers.

A chorus of whispers and gasps rippled through the onlookers, and Jimin, slightly flustered by her own audacity, glanced at you with a sheepish smile. "Just making sure everyone knows you're taken," Jimin teased, her eyes sparkling with a mix of playfulness and genuine affection.

Amused by Jimin's impromptu display, you chuckled softly. "Jealous much?"

Jimin blushed, feigning innocence. "Me? Jealous? Never," she replied, her voice layered with a hint of mock defensiveness.

The newfound couple, caught in the orbit of this unexpected spectacle, exchanged glances and knowing smiles. Jimin, triumphant in her quest to ward off potential suitors, and you, reveling in the endearing quirks of your girlfriend, continued your journey through the school courtyard, hand in hand, your love story etched in the tender moments that unfolded with each shared step.

And so, in the glow of the fading daylight, you and your girlfriend embarked on a journey filled with laughter, love, and the sweet anticipation of a future painted in the hues of your intertwined hearts.

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A/N: Hi, hello! The following 5 weeks might actually be the death of me, but oh well. I hope you enjoy this work, and also, thank you so much for reading!

#aespa imagines #aespa scenarios #aespa x fem reader #karina imagines #karina scenarios #aespa #yu jimin #yu jimin scenarios #yu jimin x reader #karina x reader #yu jimin imagines #aespa fanfic #aespa karina #karina aespa #aespa fic #aespa fluff

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arkashas · 4 months

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ok so the first time i watched this i was like what the hell will why would you tell hannibal this you're putting her life in danger??

but then i realized will's motivations in this scene. this whole exchange comes at the heels of will asking hannibal in a fit of jealousy how many patients there's been like him? like randall tier?

will receives an unsatisfactory answer which doesn't assuage his feelings, so he goes on the attack. he makes hannibal feel as disposable as he feels. that's when he mentions bedelia coming to visit him and her telling him she believed him (about hannibal). and it works! it absolutely works! just look at hannibal's face after will tells him.

he's hurt. he feels betrayed. he even is short with will for the first time, telling will curtly in answer to this news, "fascinating."

and will asking hannibal if he killed bedelia is 1) him acknowledging that bedelia could be killed by hannibal, meaning ignorance/naivety cannot be claimed as a reason he put bedelia in danger 2) in my view another indication of jealousy/possessiveness. if hannibal killed bedelia, at least will would be assured that she as is disposable to hannibal as he is (or how he feels he is). like i don't think will was hoping he killed her, but subconsciously he would have felt gratified if that was the case (remember season 3? "how did you walk away unscarred? i'm covered in scars.") of course he also asked out of concern, but i don't think this was his primary motivation here considering he just endangered her and would have been aware of it.

i think this moment is unappreciated in its revelation of how dark will really is. at this point all that will knew about bedelia was that she was hannibal's psychiatrist and that she helped him out when he was at his lowest. he doesn't know about her killing her patient or anything else. but here he's willing to throw her under the bus in order to hurt hannibal because he had a moment of insecurity.

OH and another thing in favour of this reading is that this was just after will had just gone on the fishing trip with jack where he stated that he was going to isolate hannibal from everyone close to him, so that all he had in his life was will.

so...yeah. will is as jealous and possessive as hannibal, it's just much more subtle. and the ways this jealousy and possessiveness manifests itself is arguably as toxic as hannibal's own brand of green-eyed monster.

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal meta #hannibal lecter #will graham #please tell me i'm wrong??#will is also INSISTENT that hannibal reveal himself to jack/kill jack #it's hannibal who wants to spare jack but will won't have it #of course the situation is more complex than that #but the boy is jelly

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kayhi808 · 4 months

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Neighbors - Green Eyed Monster

Masterlist

Tony Stark is throwing another one of his parties at Avenger's Tower, which is why you are currently in an elevator trying to coax a smile out of your boyfriend. "I just don't see why he makes this stuff mandatory!"

You slap his hand away from fidgeting with his tie. You loosen it just a smidge for him. "We'll stay a couple hours and we'll leave. Do your time & we're out, ok?"

"Fine!" He smiles at you, "Did I tell you how gorgeous you look?"

"You can tell me again." He leans over to kiss your neck & you smile until you feel his teeth & pull away. "Don't you dare!" Bucky pulls away and laughs, entwining his fingers with yours as the elevator doors open.

You step out into Tony's penthouse filled with people. You've never seen a penthouse this big before. It could almost be a nightclub. You hear Bucky let out a soft growl & you squeeze his hand. He leads you towards the right & you notice Sam. "So how long are you planning on staying?" You roll your eyes at them.

"Look at you, all dressed up." Sam runs his hands down the lapels on Bucky's jacket.

"Y/N made me."

Nodding vigorously, "Well, yea! Look at her!" Sam greets you with a kiss. "She's stunning. She doesn't want to be seen with a potato like you."

A pretty blonde walks up, "I'd be happy to be seen with Sargeant Barnes. Suit or no suit."

What the?!?

"Hey Dot."

"I was wondering if you'd show up tonight," gazing up at Bucky.

Bucky gives a shrug, "Yea, well..."

"It's man-da-tory. We had to." huffs out Sam.

Giggling, "The Winter Soldier doesn't always follow the rules, now does he?" She steps back winking at him.

You drop Bucky's hand and he looks at you, "Doll, this is Agent Dot McKinny. She just transferred from the Compound. Dot, my girlfriend, Y/N." His arm goes around your waist anchoring you to him.

"Nice to meet you,"

"So girlfriend, not wife?" laughing like she made a joke, "Need to make sure."

Ew! It's not nice to meet you.

Nat, Steve & Wanda join the group in the nick of time, so you can make an escape.

"I need a drink," removing Bucky's arm from your waist. To Nat & Wanda, "You want something to drink? I'm going to the bar."

"We'll come with you, " Wanda moves over to your side.

Dot waves you off, "I'm good. I'll stay right here."

Your lip can't help but curl into a snarl as you turn away, mumbling "I didn't ask you." You kept your shoulders back & chin up,

After ordering your drinks, Wanda & Natalie are giving you smirks & you can't help but smile and laugh. "Who and WHAT was that??"

They crack up laughing. "When I saw Dot head over to you guys I told Wanda we needed to get over there."

"Dot is a new transfer agent....

"Um transfer her back!" Interrupting Wanda only made them laugh harder.

"She may have a taken a liking to your Soldier."

"She's...she's a bold one," looking back at the group. Witnessing Dot playfully slap Bucky's arm.

You collect your drinks and wander back. Bucky gives you a worried look but you smile and hand him his scotch. "Thanks, doll." He leans in to kiss you & whispers "You ok?"

You plaster on a smile and give a noncommittal hum as Dot continues to yammer away laying a hand on Bucky's sleeve to gain his attention.

"I just found out they cleared me for missions so we could be partnering up soon. It's so exciting!"

"Yes, so exciting," you repeat.

Bucky clears his throat. "Will you excuse us? I needed to discuss something with Clint."

He leads you across the floor, "Doll?"

Shaking your head & laughing, "Don't you 'doll' me, Mister."

"Y/N? Ok, let's hear it."

You down the rest of your wine, handing your glass to a passing waiter. "#1, I hate her. #2, Ew. #3, what was all...THAT? #4, I hate her."

Bucky laughs, cupping your face in his hands and gives you a slow kiss that brings your jealousy level down a few notches, but he goes and says something dumb to rev you back up again. "Are you jealous?"

Narrowing your eyes at him, "Is there reason to be?"

Again he laughs and wraps you in his arms, "You're adorable!" Dropping a kiss on your lips.

Taking his bottom lip between your teeth, " And you didn't answer my question." He grimaces and pulls away.

"There is absolutely zero...Zero reasons to be jealous. I love you. I want you, and no one else."

"Ok," giving him a small smile. "But I still don't like her. If you get paired up with her on an extended mission, I'm sabotaging that mission." Bucky laughs. "Hey, the Avengers have been warned!"

You spend the rest of the evening dodging Agent Dot but she's locked on target and will zero in on Bucky. You ignore her the best you can.

You're sharing new photos and videos of Alpine with Nat. "She's gotten so fluffy!"

"I know! She was so scrawny and dirty and she's just a loveable ball of fluff now."

Dot looks over your shoulder, "Oh my God, are you a cat person?! I could NEVER!"

Nat questions, "Why not? They are so cute." Knowing exactly where this is going to lead & setting Dot up for the fall.

"Cats are menaces. They scratch up and destroy everything. They're unfriendly & bite. They carry parasites. Filthy." Shuddering, "I never understood how people can own a cat. What's that saying? Pets take after their owners?" She gives you a mean smug little smile.

"Actually, Alpine is Bucky's cat." You meet Bucky's glare over Dot's shoulder. "Honey? Dot thinks Allie is a filthy menace."

"Really?"

All the hopes and dreams for Agent Dot died after looking into the glaring eyes of an affronted cat dad. No one is forgiven for insulting his Alpine.

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x alpine #alpine #bucky barnes x female reader

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lestappenforever · 6 months

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With the Lestappen-overtaking-Maxiel situation going on: Could you maybe make a little recommendation list of your favourite Lestappen fics (can be yours and/or other people's)?

Hi anon!

I absolutely can, what a fitting celebration!

As I'm still working on a proper fic rec list as I keep reading more and more fics, below you will find a small selection of my all-time favorite fics - both to read and to write!

Full list of my all-time favorite fics that I have read and written below the cut!

My all-time favorite fics that I have read:

Monaco Malaise (part 1 of Temptation's Trajectory) by @cupidskissx Rated E | 8,037 words | Complete

Using the reflection in the mirror above the vanity, he steals occasional glances into the bedroom as he wets the cloth and cleans himself off. Charles is still on his forearms and knees, face buried in his pillow, he doesn’t look like he’s going to be moving any time soon.

Max and Charles have been hooking up for a few months, casually, no string attached — definitely no feelings involved… The disaster that was Monaco 2021 sees them in Charles’ apartment, with Max having to deal with the fact that Charles can’t get out of his head.

Azerbaijan Abnegation (part 2 of Temptation's Trajectory) by @cupidskissx Rated E | 16,972 words | Complete

Charles stares at him intently, “Last time was an anomaly.” Not for the first time, Max recalls the awkward swell of humiliation after Charles had told him to stop. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle at the memory of everything that followed, “Yeah, that better not happen again.”

After Monaco, Max thought he’d made up his mind about Charles, and their little arrangement. They’re in Azerbaijan and Charles is everywhere: in his head, in his messages, in his hotel room… Will Max be able to hold onto his resolve, or will his attempts at self-denial only prolong the inevitable?

Mona's comment: I have read these two fics more times than I can count, and I'm going to keep reading them again and again and again until the day I die. Loz is such an amazingly talented author, and her writing has honestly altered my brain chemistry numerous times.

you and me, just us (and your teammate sergio) by @oscar-fastri Rated T | 3,377 words | Complete

Checo was fully aware of what he’s walking into. Still, he seriously doubts that anyone could have been prepared for the full force of Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc being heads over heels in love with each other and not even trying to hide it.

Or: 5 times Checo thirdwheels Max and Charles + 1 time it's everyone else's turn

Mona's comment: This is the "You, me and your friend Steve" song in perfect fic format, and let me tell you the sound I made when Avery published it was not human.

The Nights Are Long (But It's Easier Together) by @f1writingbyme Rated E | 43,759 | Complete

“Oh, God, what is it?” Max groans. “It’s Mr. Corvetto, right? I knew it. I’m telling you, never move into an apartment next to elderly people. It’s just– Why does she call me? What the hell can I do? Doesn’t she need to call an ambulance or something? Or, I don’t know, her family, or–” “Max.” Charles interrupts Max’s ranting. He ends the phone call, cutting off Mrs. Corvetto’s panicked yelling with a simple press of his thumb. He stares at the blue-eyed man in front of him. “Your apartment is on fire.”

Or: The fire in his apartment is only the beginning of a long list of misfortunes that await Max. Fortunately, he has Charles by his side to help him through it. That is until Charles is the one that gets targeted.

Mona's comment: I don't even have words for this, it just needs to be read. WARNING: Prepare for heavy angst.

And That's How I Foksmashed Dad's Championship Trophy by @il-predestinato Rated T | 6,500 | Complete

All of that would have been forgivable if not for the Green-Eyed Monster’s complete disregard for the pre-contracted occupation rights of Max’s lap. Such rights had long been pre-determined and belonged to Sassy (and occasionally to Jimmy, she admitted begrudgingly). However, no amount of quiet hisses and vicious glares seemed to penetrate the creature’s thick skull, and he would greedily occupy Max’s thigh for more than 95% of any given afternoon. Sometimes with his head, sometimes with his feet, and a few times he even straddled his entire body over Max; the latter could not have been comfortable for Max, as the Green-Eyed Monster was enormously overweight compared to Sassy. (Jimmy had insisted that it was not nice to shame another living creature about their weight, but she was not wrong. With her compact size and considerably more reasonable mass, Sassy was confident that she was much more comfortable for Max to have on his lap than that horrendously oversized creature.)

Mona's comment: I have never read anything as great as this, and I don't think I'll ever read anything as great as this ever again. I want to move into Elle's brain and live there forever.

set my midnight sorrow free (part 1 of this is our place, we make the rules) by @il-predestinato Rated T | 13,439 words | Complete

He doesn’t blame Max, not really. If he could have Charles for one night, he would never let him go either. Maybe he isn’t the one who is losing; Max is also playing a losing game. You can’t open yourself to Charles and try to exist in his charmed life without becoming irrevocably enamoured. When Max let Charles walk into his motorhome, when he let Charles slip into his existence, Max didn’t know it then but the battle was already lost.

we don't know how to rhyme, but damn, we try (part 2 of this is our place, we make the rules) by @il-predestinato Rated M | 4,862 | Complete

He pulls back reluctantly and misses the warm mouth almost immediately. Stars, he was doomed. “I want this too,” he tells Charles. “I don’t believe you.” He can be so infuriating sometimes, so contrarian. Some day, he might actually make Max lose his mind.

even the sun sets in paradise (part 3 of this is our place, we make the rules) by @il-predestinato Rated T | 27,774 words | Complete

If he had to name the place where the story of Max and Charles began, if there was a moment that divided them into Before and After, there would be a few candidates. But there was only one correct answer. He would never forget the name. The place is called Val d’Argenton. Stories are still being written there. Charles likes to tell the story of the incident - turn by turn, infused with poetic drama, detailing every single emotion: frustration, anger, pure spite. Every time he tells it, his smile grows along with the laughter in his eyes, even as his words recount a tale of opposing emotions. “I never want to go back to Val d’Argenton,” Charles once confessed. “We’ll never go back there,” he promised, and Charles knew what he meant.

Mona's comment: This series is such a rollercoaster of emotion, and I don't think I'm still fully recovered from reading it the first time. Elle is a true genius in every way.

p19 by @sennaverstappen Rated E | 5,619 words | Complete

“Charles,” it comes out soft, worried, upset. Charles will light himself on fire. He hears Max take a few steps towards him, feels two warm, winning, arms wrap around his fast-breathing chest. He’s still wearing those golden shoes. Max snuggle into his neck. “I’m here for you.” And Max had won, and he’s winning the season, and he’s P19, and losing this season. And Max is winning, and he’s not even talking about it – choosing to comfort his Charles instead. Every little thought converges into a single, red-hot one. He’s going to fuck the pole sitter so hard he’ll be sore tomorrow. “Max,” he whimpers, trying to find his voice, find his grip, find his footing in this world. Max tightens his grip around his waist. “Yes, angel?” And he can feel Max frown against his nape, soft breath against his earlobe. It turns his body white-hot. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Mona's comment: This one is just *chef's kiss*. Mindblowing. Incredible. Just like its author.

My all-time favorite fics that I've written:

Devil's Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes) (part 1 of Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes) Rated E | 55,362 words | Complete

It all started with a crash. Well, technically, it started with a blue-eyed boy with blonde hair getting screamed at in a language he couldn’t understand when he was only 12 years old. He remembered looking at the boy, who couldn’t be much older than himself - (two weeks older, to be exact, he’d learn later) - and watching the spark disappear right out of those icy blue eyes. That was the first memory Charles Leclerc had of Max Verstappen: Watching Jos Verstappen, Max’s own father, scream at this 12 year old child with an intensity that turned his face red and made every blood vessel in his neck look dangerously close to bursting. But if anyone ever were to ask Charles when he started to realize that his feelings towards that same Max Verstappen he had known since childhood had begun to change into something else, something bigger, something terrifying he couldn’t - or wouldn’t - quite put his finger on, he would say that it all started with a crash. Because of fucking course it did.

OR: The slow-burn story of Lestappen that has brought me back from the dead, which starts with Max's crash at Silverstone in 2021.

Like Snow At The Beach (Weird But Fucking Beautiful) (part 2 of Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes) Rated E | 17,064 words | Completed

The wedding of Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen was always going to be a grand affair. Not necessarily because it had been either man’s dream to make a big deal out of getting married, but simply because they knew so many fucking people. And because Charles had mentioned once — in passing, ages ago, long before Max went down on one knee and proposed — that he had driven past a property in Italy he’d found so beautiful that he’d had to stop the car in order to have a proper look, and that upon walking through the grounds of the property, he’d found himself thinking it would have been the perfect venue for a wedding. Max had been hellbent on finding out which property that was ever since.

OR: The lavish wedding sequel to "Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes)" that you've all been (hopefully) waiting for.

Stop (You're Losing Me) (part 3 of Devils Roll The Dice (Angels Roll Their Eyes) Rated E | 6,399 words | Completed

And now, here they are, with Charles feeling like he’s the only one making any sort of effort to keep their marriage healthy and happy outside of race weekends. He never would have imagined being married to Max could end up feeling so lonely. Another two hours pass before Max comes out into the living room, where Charles is sitting on the couch with a bowl of Andrea-and-Brad approved pad thai from their favorite takeout place just down the street, rewatching Money Heist for what has to be the tenth time. Max stops at the end of the couch, frowning down at the Monégasque. “I thought we were going out for dinner?” Charles looks up at him, face expressionless. “We were.” Max points at the bowl. “But you ordered takeout?” “I did.” “Why?” “Because our reservation was two hours ago, babe, and I was hungry.”

OR: Max and Charles have been married for 3 years, and it turns out marriage isn't always beautiful. Sometimes, it's ugly and tiring and painful.

Mona's comment: This series is what got me back into writing after a 7-year long hiatus from fic writing, and I treasure this series so much because it's what got me to make a Tumblr blog again and fully embrace the F1 fandom after being into F1 for 20 years.

19 Times The Grid Saved Lestappen (And One Time They Didn't Need To) (part 1 of Lestappen + The Grid) co-written with @f1writingbyme Rated M | 16,107 words | Complete

In that exact moment, all Charles wants to do is grab a hold of the front of Max’s stupid Red Bull polo and pull him into a kiss. He’s just about to do it, too, when a pen comes flying out of fucking nowhere, hitting Max smack dab in the face. It brings them both out of their little bubble, and Charles turns to see Lando standing a good distance away from them, already in the process of yeeting another pen in their direction. Charles reaches out to catch it before it can hit Max again, putting his reflexes to good use. Next to Lando, Carlos nods his approval at the catch. “Lando, what the hell?”

OR: Keeping Charles and Max from accidentally outing themselves to the whole world is becoming a full-time job. and Lando decides to enlist the entire grid to help him out.

18 Times Lestappen Tried To Hide Their Relationship (And One Time They Failed) (part 2 of Lestappen + The Grid) co-written with @f1writingbyme

Charles is pretty sure he is going to die of a heart attack at the age of only twenty-six because of all the sneaking around and almost getting caught every time. The only positive thing they have going for them is that they haven't been caught yet. How that's possible, Charles isn't sure, but he thinks it might have something to do with the fact that their friends either aren't paying much attention or are just plain stupid. Charles secretly hopes it's the last one. But of course, luck is not on Charles’ side, as one Mr. Lando Norris, tucked away in the safety of his driver's room on the other side of the paddock, is typing away on his phone.

How (Not) To Third Wheel Lestappen co-written with @f1writingbyme Rated T | 10,344 words | Complete (for now)

Lance doesn’t know which of his emotions is more overpowering; the secondhand embarrassment he feels at how blatantly obvious they’re being, or the fact that watching Max and Charles in their own little world is actually kind of cute. He realizes it’s the secondhand embarrassment as he watches Max shamelessly grin at James and proudly explain that he was just talking to Charles. Lance has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, especially when he notices how Charles is quite literally the embodiment of the heart eyes emoji where he’s standing next to Max for his entire interview. And the beeline Charles makes for Max as soon as he hands the microphone to Lance after his P2 interview is even worse than the heart eyes. He definitely should have been paying attention to that group chat, Jesus fucking Christ.

OR: There is a WhatsApp support group chat on how to deal with being top 3 with Max and Charles. Lance hasn't been paying attention to it at all, and lives to regret it. And then others suffer at the hands of Lestappen as well.

Mona's comment: Writing fics with Ilse is one of my favorite things in the world to do, and I can't even begin to describe how much fun it is to write all our Lestappen + the grid fics.

The Wonders of Valentine's Day (Or Whatever) Rated E | 9,933 words | Complete

Max, having completely lost the ability to speak, just stares at the sight before him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. What the actual fuck? “Hi?” Max phrases it like a question. Charles grins at him. “Hello,” he greets, and Max watches as the grin fades away as Charles’ gaze moves down Max’s body, one eyebrow lifting. It’s only then Max realizes that he never put on pants after his shower, and is standing there in his bright orange Netherlands jersey and black boxers. It takes every ounce of his willpower not to let the internal panic he’s currently experiencing show on his face.

OR: Max isn't a fan of Valentine's Day. Charles is a menace on a mission to change that. Naturally.

Mona's comment: This was just a self-indulgant fic I wrote due to my own dislike towards Valentine's Day, but let me tell you, I had a blast from start to finish while writing this.

The Seasons of Heartbreak co-written with @f1writingbyme Rated T | 14,075 words | Complete

As the ‘I can’t do this anymore’ slipped from his lips, Charles missed his exit and continued straight ahead, unable to fully see the exit sign through his tears. The tears fill his eyes as quickly now as they had done in his car that day, and Charles finds himself realizing that he hasn’t felt happiness since. Not even once.

OR: When two men are hurting from a break-up, they can only use each other to make it right again. But they have to realize that first.

OR: The seasons of heartbreak, seen through the eyes of both Max and Charles.

Mona's comment: The sheer amount of tears shed while writing this, my God.

#Asks #Anon asks #Lestappen fic recs anons #Lestappen fics #Lestappen fic recs

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yoongleboongle · 1 year

Text

yoongi fic recs part ii

(biggest love and support to the writers!!)

1. mad about you by @yoongiphoria

established relationship, smut, 0.7k words

2. drown by @hamsterclaw

established relationship, smut, (part of 'vows' series but can be read as a standalone drabble imo)

3. the king isn't dead by @another-army-spot

historical!au, king!yoongi, smut, fluff/romance, 19.7k words

4. muse by @another-army-spot

established relationship, producer!yoongi x dancer!reader, fluff, smut, 4k words

5. green-eyed monster by @yoonpobs

established relationship, angst, smut, fluff ish, (part of 'be in love' series but can be read as a standalone imo), 1.6k words

6. backburner christmas drabble by @yoonpobs

established relationship, fluff, smut, (part of 'backburner' series but can be read as a standalone drabble imo), 6.2k words

7. love language by @yoonpobs

established relationship, fluff, 5k words

8. busy - a night at home by @jungk0oksthighs

established relationship, smut, 3.3k words

9. soon by @ppersonna

established relationship (married!au), fluff, smut, 3.1k words

10. i wanna hold your hand by @minisugakoobies

friendstolovers!au, fluff, 1.4k words

#yoongi fic recs #yoongi smut #suga smut #bts smut #bts fic rec #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #fic rec list #yoongi fluff

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alalaya2 · 10 days

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Tim Drakes Sleeping habits save the Earth

11 They’re Coming 1/2

A Few hours had passed, and Danny was Disassociating as he was going in and out of consciousness, he was not able to accept what was happening around him. In the two years he had been a protective spirit he had never lost anyone. The 30 people who had died during Ghost attacks were the rare occasions when he was not in town when the attack happened. The Deaths were cause by the GIW not caring about civilians and hit a tour bus trying to catch Boxy. The locals knew to stay away which is why they only got injured but not the outsiders, that was probably the point when the GIW started their information block in earnest. Before then there were a lot of people coming in and out of the city, then the tourists just stopped coming.

It didn’t really worry any of the Amity Parker's at the time everyone figured that people were realizing it was not safe to Visit anymore. They were upset and were starting to see that the GIW were no longer the funny MIB rip offs that shoots like a storm-trooper, they were more Dangerous than the Ghost.

The Ghost may have caused some property damage and caused a few inconveniences, but they never went out of their way to hurt anyone. The GIW had now actively killed the people they claimed to protect. Danny’s parents refused to work with them after that and started to notice things about the ghost around them. It shocked them and had shaken their faith in the GIW when Boxy had actively tried to save the Tourist while he was actively being shot at. By the time they had run across him bonding to Lunch Lady They had completely abandoned the notion that Ghost were non-sentient.

It had shown then that Humans can be the real Monsters in the story. There were kids on the Bus that had been Burned alive and if it wouldn’t have caused them more trouble the GIW would have taken every single one of them for experimentation. Danny and Jazz had been so relieved that their parent did not agree with the GIW about the experiments. It had made him feel a lot better when he had finally told them he was Phantom because he knew that he would not be ending up as one of their experiments.

He couldn’t move the Bindings were too tight and they Burned it helped just thinking of the past. In the back of his mind, he knew he was going into obsession failure. It was a lot like shock, but it could be even deadlier, and it was even more dangerous for first time obsession failure. He knew he if he didn’t pull himself together, he could risk his Core Cracking. If his Core Cracked, he had a 10% chance of not fading. If he managed to pull himself out of the Obsession Failure it would be less dangerous each time.

Normally when a ghost started to have an obsession failure the elders of their Farid would use their core energy to support them until they could heal. As it was, He was alone, and he was not doing so well he couldn’t get overt the fact that he had lost one of his subjects when he was right there. It was worse because he knew Klemper the 30 Tourist were hard because he hadn’t been there to help but this was worse. He wanted his parents and his Ghost parent. “Clocky Help” he managed to say around the muzzle before he finally managed to pass out Luckily the suppressor cuffs kept him in his Ghost form.

Agent O looked onto Phantom wondering where Agent E was, he was in charge of all the wet work for experimentation and was supposed to be back from vacation today. This was one of the few protocols that he hated but he knew it was needed. They only had a limited number of specimens, and they had to make every experiment count. He just wished that they could get started, it had taken so long to get Phantom, and he didn’t want them to escape. Though looking at the green glassy eyes he didn’t think it would happen anytime soon.

Clockwork and Frostbite saw the glassy eyed stare on the young king and Agent O’s look of discussed on the Time Mirrors.

“He is going into Core shock” Growled Frostbite.

“He is and he will survive it” hissed Clockwork his tail lashing like an angry cat he was not happy with what needed to happen. If he didn’t know the hell that was about to rained down on them in a few hours he would have gotten Danny. Timeline be dammed, as it was, he knew his sister would be a good step in for the battle. He was a good fighter but, in this case, he was compromised and if he got involved too much it would lead to a lot more pain for Danny. He tilted his head to a different Mirror “I will not be able to go until the end of the battle, but she will give them the retribution they deserve.”

Frostbite looked at the Mirror Clockwork had pointed at. It showed Morrigan with a dead clock falling from her hands, her hair was wild and had black feathers sticking out along with arm and leg guards of black metal and feathered details on them. The little Curl of Black makeup on her left eye was sharp as ever with an outline of red and she had a black feathered shoulder guard on. She was standing away from the GIW base “They’re so Screwed” he said in surprise and awe.

Clockwork nodded Morrigan was the middle child and while he was always ready to through hands his sister was the one to Burn it all down. He watched as Morrigan’s Crows circled around bringing her the information they would need to get in faster. “True but there is no such thing as over kill in love and war.” They watched Morrigan Turn as three portals opened behind her….

Previous AO3

#danny phantom #dp x dc #batman #ghost king danny #dpxdc #clockwork #frostbite #fright night #princess dani phantom

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dilatorywriting · 2 years

Text

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 4]

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 6.7k

Summary: 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon.'

🌶️Obligatory Warning for Some Descriptions of Violence & Mild Suggestive Content

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

As detestable as they were, at the very least your assailants were well organized.

You were plopped neatly at the center of the room, in a very conspicuous location that would have made it difficult for a hypothetical someone to, say, just flat-out torch everything in sight without also catching his very tiny, mortal, companion up in said firestorm.

The group of them split off to tend to their tasks with a frankly shocking level of competence and foresight. Was this how adventurers were actually supposed to work? They didn’t just—I don’t know—saunter into an abandoned castle on a whim and a prayer, with no real end goal in sight and nothing but the perpetual bounding of a singular, shared, braincell to keep them on their toes? There was a plan? What was this madness.

“How much time do you think we have?” one of them called, busy working to set up some sort of wire trap that, in your humble ‘I have faced this legendary dragon and survived’ opinion, looked like it would do exactly diddly squat.

“Enough,” the Elf Wizard shrugged, thin arms crossed tight across his equally gaunt chest. “These vermin don’t have the same concept of time as we do. It may return soon, but we may also be waiting hours.”

Hours? Hours? You fought the urge to groan. And then remembered it hardly mattered if you did or not, because you were still trapped in a bubble of perpetual Silence, and that just made you want to groan louder.

Assumed-Rogue nodded tersely in response and continued constructing his pseudo-trap. The long, red, stripes of his sleeves were odd things—very in-your-face bold for a dude whose job you assumed it was to slip through shadows unseen. But then you noticed that the threads he was spinning were pooling from those slashes of crimson, and alright, that was fairly cool. ‘Your failure of a stealthy design gets a pass this time, good sir.’

“You’re certain this is one of the Briar Beasts, Lord Flamm?” Armored Lady piped in, busy shifting through the various swords strapped at her hip.

“Of course,” he hummed, flicking through his spell tome. “Have I ever led you astray before?”

Armored Dude snorted from his place across the room. “You’re not the issue. I just have trouble believing one of those monsters would still be alive at all after all this time.”

‘Lord Flamm’ snorted. “And why not? They’re like cockroaches—thriving through the worst of the world and gorging themselves on its corruption. This one is no different.”

Your brows twitched irritably.

Thankfully, Silence was not an indefinite spell. And after about ten minutes of muzzled misery, you felt its sticky, gauzy, gunk wash itself out of your throat.

“I’m getting the impression that you’re really not a fan of dragons,” you said, testing your volume.

Lord Flamm stared down at you with a hawk-eyed sort of sneer. His pale, green, glare felt like a tangible thing crawling along your skin.

“They are unnatural,” he huffed after a moment. “No creature should walk the planes of this world for such a great span of time. Immortality is a perverse transgression against the sanctities of life and existence.”

“You are literally an Elf,” you replied, incredulous. His face scrunched up like you’d forced a whole lemon into his mouth, and then he dropped another dome of Silence over your head.

Another ten minutes crawled by, and words returned to your tongue.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hypocritical?” you hummed, casually testing the arcane restraints binding your limbs. Those seemed to hold themselves in place with a great deal more fortitude than his on-again-off-again Mute Button, which was as frustrating as it was respectable.

“It’s not nearly the same. I was born into my burden,” he sniffed.

You blinked, confused. “I mean, so was Tsunotarou.”

Elf Wizard made a punched-out sort of noise, like you’d decked him right in the spleen.

“You named the beast?” he gawked. “Like a pet?”

“Look, man,” you grouched, offended on your scaly friend’s behalf. “If anyone’s the pet here, it’s me!”

Lord Flamm’s face went white, to red, and then nearly puce.

“Wait,” you spluttered. “That came out wrong—”

And then you were gagged once more.

The next time your muzzle was lifted, Lord Flamm was already pacing along the little, invisible, edge of the spell’s cage. You cleared your throat and he came to a stop a few feet away from where you were bound.

“I can see what’s happened here,” he said, stern, and you arched a brow in disbelief. You didn’t even have any solid idea what the fuck was going on, and you’d been living it for the past few weeks. He cleared his throat and glowered down at you. “You’ve been taken in by the monster’s wiles.”

You spluttered. “Not to just keep repeating myself, but really, if anyone did the ‘accidental seducing’ thing here, it was—”

He waved you off with a puckered grimace. “That hardly matters. At the end of the day, you are still the creature’s prisoner, and it is my duty as a man of integrity to assist you however I can.”

You frowned. Because while this whole thing had technically started as a hostage situation, it hadn’t really felt like one lately. Sure, Tsunotarou still threw tantrums that shook the foundation when you’d tried to put up a makeshift bathroom door, but he also listened to all your stories with the rapt attention of someone genuinely invested in the garbage pouring out of your mouth. He tucked you into your big mattress nest at night with his scaly nose, and endured all your griping with nothing but good humor. He showed you his treasures and told you terrible, dry, jokes that you were sure you only found so funny because he certainly hadn’t meant to be.

You sighed and dipped your head, expression shuttered.

Lord Flamm stepped forward and you felt a thin, gloved, finger tuck itself beneath your chin to tilt you back up to face him.

“I will save you,” he promised, something genuinely sturdy and righteous coating the words. “If you ask it of me.”

You took a deep breath in through your nose.

“There once a man from Trebucket,” you chirped, letting the jaunty tavern melody roll off your tongue like any good Bard ought to.

Lord Flamm arched a thin brow, in equal parts amusement and exasperation.

“Who really only wanted to find the dragon so he could fuck it—”

His face twisted in rage, and to the surprise of literally no one, you were Silenced yet again. Though this one felt the most like a victory so far.

And thus, the cycle repeated itself. Every quarter hour or so, the spell would drop and you’d start babbling some sacrilegious, borderline pornographic, nonsense that had him cursing you all over again. You counted each round of mockery softly in your head. Half to keep time, half to—

Your gaze trailed past the intricate, stone, entryway and caught. Perched atop the overhang were two gargoyles. Which was quite odd, seeing as you’d spent half a month living out of this room now and had never noticed them before (and you certainly would have, what with your host’s propensity for pointing out the gothic carvings each and every time one popped up in the castle’s architecture). Not to mention, they looked an awful lot like the pair of grey monsters which had been guarding the entrance when you’d first slunk in—the very duo that you’d sworn had tracked you and your friends with beady, gemstone, eyes and dug their pointed talons through solid rock.

Ancient buildings always seemed to have a life about them—never quiet, never still. Always settling with strange noises and shifting shadows that danced oddly along surfaces that were forever decaying. And this castle was no different. So it took you really listening, really closing your eyes tight and straining your ears against the perpetual white noise, to make out the low grinding of the Gargoyles as they shifted atop their perch and curled their sharp claws.

You tilted your head at them, curious, and the one on the left seemed to bristle. As much as stone could bristle. The one on the right very softly dipped its chin, almost like a bow. Its purple, glass, eyes flashed in the lowlight.

‘Wait,’ that look said.

And so you did, sitting straighter and at proper attention.

The group of Dragon Slayers was still milling about making preparations. Eventually, one of the two yet-unclassified hench people slunk from the room, and when your gaze slipped back to the gargoyles, the one on the right was gone.

You made eye contact with the remaining carving, and it curled its lip at you like a grumbly hound.

There was a scream from beyond the threshold, and then a great clattering of noise not unlike an earthquake, or the resonating crunch of a building crumbling at its base.

Immediately weapons were drawn, shoulders hunched in panic. Defensive magic swirled through the air like ink in water.

“What’s going on?!—”

With a shrieking roar, the remaining gargoyle lurched forward and collided with one of the armored attackers. The impact was like a crack of thunder, and it rattled around your skull like a gong.

And with that—dragon or no—the battle against the Hunters had officially begun.

With a panicked squawk, you began worming your still very bound self out of the dead center of this tornado of chaos. You flopped across the floor like a particularly determined caterpillar, or someone trussed up a in a sleeping bag with no limbs. You made it almost a solid twenty feet before you were scooped up by the back of your collar and dropped onto your knees.

“Not so fast, you little cretin.”

And then there was a curved knife at your throat and a set of hands trapping your own. You gulped and the blade bobbed against your chin. Stupid rogues with their stupid stealth. You grit your teeth and clenched your fists, willing the meager scraps of magic that twirled in your veins to bob to the surface. You could feel the trace rumblings of a Thunderwave reverberating down your limbs, and it was certainly no Fireball, or Lightning Bolt, but maybe it would be enough to—

There was a spray of red, red, red and the Striped Rogue at your back collapsed in a puddle of gore.

Standing over the corpse of the felled assassin was a boy. Or, well, something that very much looked like a young boy. Or, not young. Just… It was strange. He was small, slight, with a cheerful youthfulness to him. But the mirthful expression lighting his crimson eyes chilled your bones like the seeping cold from a long-forgotten tomb. It was like looking at someone with dozens—hundreds—of faces. A kaleidoscope of lifetimes. It was disorientating.

“Hello, you,” the little demon cooed. He reached out to tap a clawed finger against your forehead and the arcane binds holding your limbs shattered on impact. “Let’s get you out of here, hmm?”

Something tugged at your brain as you gaped at that mess of choppy, black-and-pink, hair, and the glittering irises that matched the blood splattered across his cheeks almost too horribly well.

“Are you… Lilia?” you asked, dazed.

“Well done, little human,” he trilled, lips curling in delight as he hauled you back to your feet. “But there will be time for proper introductions later. Let’s get you somewhere safe first, before my silly ward really does tear this whole castle down.”

“Tsunotarou is here?” you frowned, anxious. “But these people are here to kill him.”

“We’ve done our best to keep him away for as long as possible,” Lilia hummed. “But I doubt he has much more patience for skulking about in the shadows. He never did,” He sighed, long and world weary. “And I loved this old haunt so much too. I hope it survives.”

“You—” you gawked. “You’re talking about the castle?!”

“Of course,” Lilia smiled, perfectly sweet. “Swatting these pests is going to cause more damage than they’re worth to begin with—”

You were yanked out of the path of an encroaching blade, and Lilia sidestepped the pair of you smoothly to safety.

“You’re not going anywhere!” the Paladin thundered, hand whipping out to leash a whirl of vibrating, bright, magic around Lilia’s wrists. “This fight is mine! And you will have no other!”

“Ah,” your savior sighed, looking down at the faint, yellow, glow circling his skin. “Now that is a doozy.”

The great sword came down with a crash, and Lilia ducked away from the destruction with ease. He gave you a light tap on the shoulder, pushing you forward, and you felt the flush of a Haste spell nibbling at your limbs.

“Go on ahead,” he said, with all the nonchalant politeness of someone lamenting that they were going to be late for afternoon tea. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

BOOM went the now glowing sword as it sliced through the air where your savior had been standing not a moment before.

“Do not take me so lightly, wretch,” the Paladin spat, and Lilia’s civil little smile twisted into something that sent shivers racing down your spine.

“If you insist,” he beamed, with a level of enthusiasm that was bordering on sociopathic.

You didn’t stay to see the fallout. Lilia’s orders to flee aside, you knew well enough what a cat looked like before it pounced—that smug, animalistic, satisfaction that came after deciding that it was going to play with its meal for as long as it liked. And the grinding, snapping, howling noises coming from their direction was enough to reinforce that looking back would be a very terrible idea indeed.

You’d only just made it past the threshold and out in the grand hall beyond when there came a whining groan that sounded familiarly enough like the protesting noises the banister would make whenever Tsunotarou dropped too much of his weight on top of it. You peered back into the room, and from the darkness at its rear emerged a long, thin, snout.

The Great, Ebony, Dragon slithered forth from the blackness like a snake through the grass. The sharp drag of his claws against the stone was earsplitting, and when he spread his wings behind him, he seemed to cast the entire cavern into shadow. Faster than you could blink, one, two, three of the Slayers were scooped up by those massive, pointed, teeth and tossed through the air—wherein the pair of gargoyles descended upon them like a set of well-trained attack dogs. Your dragon swiveled to spit black smoke across the rest of the echoing room and its occupants. Between the swirling smog seeping from his throat and the blackness of his wings, the brilliant, green, glow of his eyes were the only source of light in the gloom. It was all horribly eerie, but mesmerizing in a way that reminded you exactly why so many ballads and epics had been written about the terrible might of Dragons.

He reared his head back and roared. His bellowing seemed to shake the very foundation of the castle, and the sparks jumping from behind his canines bit through the smoke with harsh little pop-pop-pops. And man oh man, he reallymust have been taking it easy on you and your duo of idiots, because this would have had the three of you shitting your pants on the spot.

From there, the battle more or less became a one-sided massacre. The stone soldiers flew through the air, decimating the opponents as their master demanded. Occasionally there was a flash of pink, and then a cheerful laugh followed inevitably by a noise that was all kinds of unpleasant. And at the center of it all was your newfound friend—picking apart the opposition with all the careful rage of someone determined to sear the consequences of these Hunters’ folly into the memories of their lineages for ages to come.

And then—amidst all the quite frankly epic fighting that you would have to tell Ace and Deuce all about when they came back to visit—you noticed that not far from where you were hiding observing was a familiar, angry, gaunt face. Lord Flamm’s elaborate black and maroon robes swirled around his ankles as he paced, and he was leering at the chaos unfolding not a hundred feet away with an expression that calling murderous would have been kind.

You bristled immediately, limbs lancing through with a tight sort of indignation.

He was just—right there! Standing all the way out here! When the rest of his party was busy being chewed to itty-bitty pieces!

And sure, rationally you knew that Wizards were squishy, glass-canons not meant for close combat more intense than a round of rock-paper-scissors. Sure, when you and your idiots had been facing down a dragon, Ace and Deuce had ordered you and your equally ill-armored self to run for it. Someone had probably hurled the Elf from the room the moment combat began, or demanded he whirl away to safety.

But you wanted to be angry. Because this was the man who had strode, eyes wide open, into a hornet’s nest with the sole intention of crushing the poor bugs beneath his heel. He deserved to bear the brunt of the miserable, stinging, backlash.

It certainly didn’t help that he was glaring down Tsunotarou with near frenzied loathing. The tome in his hands was flipped open to a dense spell that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and he was casting. Something tedious, and extravagant, and with enough somatic nonsense to make your head spin. His gloved fingers glowed beneath a growing mote of magic that shone horrible and bright in the natural shadows of the castle. Whatever sort of magic it was, it was strong enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and push frantic adrenaline through your veins. Sigils swam through the air, and you swore you could feel it sapping at your own tiny pool of mana. If this was some kind of spell that would gobble up magic, then a dragon who was nothing but magic—then Tsunotarou—he would—This spell might actually—

You ran at that wretched little bitch with everything you had, and tackled him to the ground just as a bolt of crackling, pale, force magic boomed from between his fingers. The spell shot wide, and you thanked every divine being you could think of for the enduring shittiness of Wizard Muscles.

“I should have known you’d risk your life to save that unholy monster,” he seethed, rolling back to his feet and sending you tumbling off the side.

You stood firm and silent between this awful, garbage, Elf and the Dragon he so hated.

Lord Flamm raised a hand in your direction, incensed, and then you watched as something sharp and frightened slithered its way across his features. No sparks danced along his fingertips, no black miasma curled from his palms. You shoved your hands into your pockets and rocked back and forth on your heels like the most obnoxious piece of shit you could be.

“Wow,” you drawled, low in your throat. “That was impressive. I mean. How many times did you cast all those spells on me earlier? I’m shocked you have anything left.”

The already dark look coloring his face twitched into something truly foul.

“You were doing that on purpose,” he snarled. “You vile, loathsome, bumbling ignoramus of a bard!—"

“Ah, stop, stop!” You beamed, fanning yourself with a limp wrist. “You’re going to make me blush~”

You ducked out the way with a yelp as a mote of fire whizzed past your ear—singeing far too many hairs at it went. Because fuck fuck fuck. Cantrips were still a thing. And he was powerful enough that those simple, little, bits of magic would still probably be more than enough to fry the meat off your bones.

“It’ll be enough to kill you,” he seethed—like he could read your thoughts—teeth tugged into a hideous, gaping, sneer.

Your mind zipped through every possible escape route and settled frantically on the only option that had ever truly seemed to save your ass.

“What white teeth you have?” you tried.

He roared and another shot of brilliant, red, flames careened over your head.

You ducked out of the way with a squawk just in the nick of time, nearly faceplanting into a wall in your haste.

And thus ensued a terrifying but morbidly hilarious Benny Hill chase through pillars, and behind rocks, and into holes. You killed your singular, daily use of Misty Step just trying to get out of one of said holes. And your brief attempt at tossing up a Mirror Image to throw off his groove did little but get you whacked with a Counterspell that made your bones ache.

Just as you’d burned through the last of your meager magic and were genuinely preparing to just try and deck the guy again, black smoke began to curl through the hall—soon followed by the ominous roll of thunderous growls and the heavy grindingof a gigantic beast clawing its way into the room.

You threw yourself at the dragon with more enthusiasm than was probably proper for a situation like this, and he immediately ducked his head to catch you against his snout. He curled himself around you with a rumbling snarl and your vision was drowned in a shifting sea of ebony scales. You squished yourself into his bulk with a shuddering sigh, fingers clutching a bit uselessly at the slippery surface of his natural armor.

A burst of orange flames rolled harmlessly off Tsunotarou’s scaled side and his lips curled unpleasantly over his canines. You could see the licks of emerald fire rolling off his tongue—dancing along his white teeth and lighting the hall in an ominous, sickly, glow.

Before the pair of you, Lord Flamm looked half-mad. If not fully consumed. His party wiped, his hostage freed, and the creature he hated so fiercely baring down on him with no escape.

He let his head fall back with a discordant trill of laughter and grinned at the approaching dragon without a hint of repentance. Fear, perhaps. Panic, certainly. But no remorse. He raised his hands once more, and another dredge of his own fire sparked along his fingers.

“And he shall smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit.”

The Great Briar Beast of Old opened his gigantic, black, maw and choked the hall in a torrent of emerald fire.

And Lord Flamm and his Dragon Slayers were no more.

You stared intently at the singed corridor, as if waiting for one of the piles of ash to jump to its feet and pull a sword. Which you might have excused as paranoid fretting if you hadn’t heard of necrotic magics capable of doing exactly that. But after a long moment of waiting with bated breath and tight fists, the monsters did not rise from their graves, and all seemed to be truly well and over.

You let out a gigantic gust of a breath and collapsed bonelessly against the dragon at your side. After a solid minute or two of just awkwardly trying to find a good way to hug a giant lizard more than a dozen times your size, Tsunotarou slipped out of his scales, and then he was warm and fleshy in your arms once more. Still too big, still earth-shatteringly strong, but human-shapedenough that you could merrily settle into his embrace without the risk of becoming a pancake.

“Tsunotarou!” you chirped past the lingering haze of smoke. “You’re okay!”

“Me?” he gawked at you. It was an awkward angle to make eye contact, seeing as he’d latched himself onto you like a particularly determined koala, but he managed nonetheless. “You were worried about me during all of that?” He blinked those wide, neon, eyes at you like you were some horribly long and tedious math equation that he couldn’t even begin to make sense of. “You were the one who was captured!”

“They were Dragon Slayers,” you entreated, brow furrowed. “They didn’t need me for much of anything. Of course I was worried more about you.”

When the constipated look on his face refused to fade, you prodded him gently in his side.

“Look, I promise if we ever run into Bard Poachers I will be exponentially more cautious.”

He didn’t look particularly convinced—whether because he was trying to suss out of if something like ‘Bard Poachers’ were an actual, factual, threat upon your person, or because you’d just openly hurtled yourself at a clearly overpowered, feral, wizard with no regards to your already shitty constitution to speak of, so a promise to ‘be more cautious’ was about as good as saying that maybe next time you wouldn’t outright flirt with death. Only subtly. A lil’ bit.

You reached up to smoosh your thumb along the sharp slant of his frown and smooth out the harsh edges that were practically digging into his jaw.

“Tsunotarou, if you keep making that face, it’s going to get stuck like that,” you warned.

“Malleus,” he interrupted, firm. You blinked up at him slowly and your hand fell back to rest in the nonexistent space between you.

“A what?”

“Malleus,” he repeated, and you felt the weight of the word dance through the air like sparks. Like an invocation, or a curse. “My true name.”

You waited a moment in shocked silence before slowly repeating your own name back at him. He startled and snorted a laugh into your neck, some of that lingering, terrible, tension finally seeming to seep out of him.

“I am well aware of what you are called, Child of Man.”

“…I know that,” you mumbled, fighting the urge to fidget. Malleus, Malleus, Malleus. The syllables sat heavy on your tongue, like your mouth couldn’t figure out how to push them past your lips. “I thought you said that dragons don’t give out their real names.”

He drew back just enough to cup your cheeks in his ashy palms, brushing a clawed finger back and forth against one of the small cuts littering your jaw.

“There is power in a name,” he said. “It is not a gift readily bestowed.”

Then why—

You swallowed, nervous, and one of his thumbs tracked the movement along the hollow of your throat.

“This way, if you call for me, I will always hear you,” he promised, eyes going flinty and venomous as he gazed at the cinder piles of smoking intruders. “And something like this will never happen again.”

“I—I mean,” you spluttered. “Me being—And this being—I mean—” You cleared your throat. “That hardly seems like a good enough reason to—to—” To put something so important into the hands of someone who literally broke into your house less than a month ago. To give something so precious to someone so human.

“Isn’t it?” he smiled, that sharp anger melting back into something painfully soft. Your poor heart kickstarted itself all over again. He ducked forward to press his nose into your temple, and you could feel the soft puff of his breath as his grin sharpened into a smirk. “Though I would have liked to bestow my titles on you in other ways as well, if this little hero would be amenable.”

You squawked, and the only thing that shook you out of the immediate spiral into ‘did he really just ask me to—am I really going to be stuck in every goddamn bard’s trope existence of—of—' was the merry laughter that bubbled up from somewhere behind you.

“Careful, my Prince,” Lilia hummed from his place perched atop a particularly large heap of rubble. “If you come on too strong, you’ll only scare them away. Humans are flighty like that, I’m afraid.”

You could feel Malleus’s pout against your forehead.

“Not my human,” he grouched. His hands dropped from your cheeks to encircle your waist and clutch at your lower back. “And that besides,” he continued testily, “you were the one who only just this morning insisted I take decisive action.”

“That’s true,” Lilia agreed with a gentle bob of his head, resting his pointed chin against his palm. “But perhaps three sentences at least before the proposal?”

Malleus blinked, slow and serpentine, before flicking his neon gaze back to you. “That does seem fair I suppose. What do you think?”

“I think,” you gawked, trying and failing to process any of the words that were coming out of their fanged mouths, “that I am having a stroke.”

“NOT ACCEPTABLE!” boomed a voice from overhead. “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FALL ILL AFTER ALL THE EFFORTS WE TOOK TO KEEP YOU SAFE!”

You jolted in shock, and Malleus’s talons flexed reassuringly at your waist as he gently turned you back-to-chest so that you could face your accuser. He nestled his chin into your shoulder, and you could feel his horns bump against your skull as he tried to burrow in as close as possible. Which all would have been thoroughly distracting, but then you noticed that one of the Gargoyles from early had landed directly across from you. Its spiked head was swiveling back and forth as it appraised you like some particularly ruffled cockatoo. And that in itself was bizarre enough to help you focus on something other than the weight along your back and the steadily rising heat in your cheeks.

“Uhm, hello?” you tried.

“WE HAVE ALREADY MET!” It screeched. “THERE IS NO NEED FOR INTRODUCTIONS!”

“It talks,” you blanched.

“OF COURSE I SPEAK, YOU IGNORANT ENTERTAINER!” The Gargoyle thundered. Its yellow eyes flashed in indignation. “HOW COULD I NOT LEARN TO COMMUNICATE IN A RESPECTABLE FASHION WHEN SERVING SOMEONE SO MAJESTIC AS HIS MAJESTY?!”

“I think,” the other Gargoyle said, slipping forward so silently you could hardly believe it was made of such strong stone at all, “that what Sebek is trying to say, is that we are happy to finally be able welcome you into our home, even if it is under less than ideal circumstances. And that we are very pleased to be able to speak with you.”

“THAT IS WHAT I ALREADY SAID, SILVER!” the spiky one snarled. No one else looked particularly bothered by his ceaseless volume, so it was probably normal. He stuck his carved nose into the air with a harumph. “AND I HAVE HEARD OF THE WAYS OF YOU TRAVELING STORY TELLERS! IF YOU BREAK MY MASTER’S HEART, YOU WILL SUFFER AN ETERNITY OF TORMENT AT MY HAND!”

Malleus growled, low and rumbling, from over your shoulder. Instantly his stalwart guardian cowed—head dipping like a kicked a puppy.

“Of course,” it continued, much softer. “I don’t think this human would do that. And—And I think my master has made a very good choice in his mate, and I will be happy to serve you too.”

Lilia sighed a sigh that sounded very much like a doting mother overflowing with parental affection. Like the kind of noise one may hear on a cozy Sunday afternoon while helping prepare dinner, or while sitting on a little, floral, couch and sifting through little paintings of grandchildren. There was still blood splattered all along his cheeks.

“It’s so lovely to have the family all together again,” he cooed. “And I do think that you will make such a marvelous addition.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you,” you nodded jerkily, just as your knees buckled and you collapsed to the floor.

On the first day of the new month, Ace and Deuce made their way back to the forgotten castle nestled in a pool of lava.

“We should never have left them,” Deuce grumbled for what was maybe the ten thousandth time. Ace was sick of hearing it. He was even more sick of the fact that despite being constantly inundated with various versions of ‘oh, we’re such terrible friends,’ the little, twisting, spike of guilt in his gut never grew any duller. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work? Something-something-repetitive-exposure-therapy, or whatever? This sucked. He wanted a refund on this whole ‘conscience’ thing. Maybe it wasn’t too late to sell his soul and become a Warlock or whatever. Surely that would help.

“We didn’t have a choice,” Ace reminded him. Again. “They’re okay. I know they are. We’re going to show up and they’ll be, I don’t know, lying in a bed of gold being hand fed grapes or something.”

Deuce made a rumbly, whining, kind of noise that made him sound even more pathetic than usual and Ace sighed, determined to instead focus on the rickety rope bridge swinging beneath their feet.

The ancient, looming, monstrosity of a building was just as cold and dark as it had been the first time. If anything, it was more filthy. With walls stained with seeping ash and the charred, skeletal, remains of something that Ace was definitely, absolutely, not going to think about scattered throughout the grime.

The two of them made their way to the heart of the castle until they were standing at the entrance of a grand, cavernous, chamber that may have once been some sort of ballroom.

Ace didn’t know what he was expecting. Slaver’s coils maybe. A chain around your ankles and rags drooping from your shoulders. Or maybe you wouldn’t even be there at all—long since swallowed down as a little, midnight, snack.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to see you lounging contentedly atop a mountainous heap of soft blankets, with the master of this castle—terror-incarnate, death from above, an eldritch beast ripped straight out of legend—curled along the lumpy hills of your grandiose pillow fort, its great head nestled at your back as you reclined against its scales and chattered away. Like the goddamned, rambling, idiot you had always been.

One of the dragon’s large, green, eyes shifted towards the intruders at its door, and Ace froze in place. You paused your chattering to raise your hand with an excited little wave. Your tattered traveler’s clothes had been replaced with something silken and soft enough that it would probably melt in his fingers, and it swayed like mist around you as you made your way to your feet. You were practically dripping in platinum, and diamonds, and emeralds, and—he was going to stop counting them before he gave himself a conniption.

And yeah… it wasn’t exactly a throne of gold and gemstones, but it was almost just as impressive. And immediately indignation swept through Ace with a horrible kind of vengeance. Because how dare you actually be living it up over here when he had been so fucking worried just lying about all that cool stuff to keep Deuce from storming the castle gates?

“You made it!” you chirped, perfectly merry despite the gigantic maw full of sharp teeth hovering at your shoulder.

“Of—Of course we did,” Deuce stuttered, his blue eyes flicking back and forth so quickly from the dragon, to you, to Ace, to the dragon, to you—that Ace genuinely thought he might be having a seizure. “We promised we would.”

You stopped in front of them with a considerate little hum, sharp eyes tracing and cataloguing their varying reactions. After a moment of what was obviously some very smug preening and even smugger ‘I win this round’ silent gloating, you slipped out of the piles of entangled jewels with an exaggerated shrug. With the exception of an intricately carved emerald pendant hanging softly between the hollows of your collarbones, the rest of the infinitely expensive and rare gems fell to the ground with a series of clattering chatter.

“All that shit is so heavy,” you whined. Whined. Like you had any right to complain about anything at all for the rest of your existence. You leaned forward with a wink. “I was just hoping it’d make your thieving, money-hungry ass, jealous.” You smirked, proud. “And it looks like it worked, you goddamn traitors.”

Ace was about to splutter out the most scathing remark his spiteful little brain could come up with, when Deuce ruined everything by rushing forward like the blubbering idiot he was and scooping you up into a bearhug.

“You’re okay! You’re okay!” he wailed. “We missed you so much!”

“Speak for yourself,” Ace huffed, and twinged miserably when it came out sounding far too soft. He cleared his throat and decided to take a different approach. “You know, last time I was sort of joking about the whole ‘bards and dragons’ thing. But it looks like you’ve made yourself real comfortable. And here I thought you were always super opposed to the ‘fucking my way out of my problems’ stereotype.”

However, because the universe seemed determined not to give Ace any kind of win for the rest of his natural existence, instead of getting all embarrassed and mousey, you just huffed and turned up your nose at him.

“Well obviously not as a dragon,” you complained. “Do you know how big he is? How would that even work, huh?” The aforementioned dragon lowered his gigantic head to settle on the ground at your side, and you leaned against him good-naturedly when he grumbled low in his throat. “Yeah, no,” you said to the beast, rolling your eyes. “Nice try, but no.”

Deuce immediately choked and started hacking up a lung, and Ace wanted to die.

“You can talk to it?” the redhead asked instead of keeling over.

You shrugged.

“Not like this. But I’ve learned to interpret most of it.” You wiggled your fingers. “It’s my sixth sense.”

Ace’s nose scrunched. “Yeah, right. If anything, it’s your ‘I’ve been dicked down by a dragon and think that makes me soooo special now’ sense—”

The great, ebony, monster growled and the Fighter’s mouth snapped shut like someone had taken a hammer to his jaw. You snickered goodhumoredly and elbowed your companion gently at the base of one of its long, sharp, horns.

“He’s just joking around,” you said to the winged horror. “You don’t have to get all defensive.”

There was another grumpy sneer, but the dragon simply settled more heavily at your side with a defeated sort of huff. The gust of a sigh sent a wave of scorching heat along Ace’s front, and he fought the urge to cow immediately and beg for his life. Because apparently that wasn’t going to be necessary, because you had—you had—

“Are you in love?” Deuce blurted, because unlike Ace, the Barbarian was pure, and good, and still didn’t fully understand how eggs worked, let alone the concept of Fuck or Die.

And then you surprised him yet again by getting as flustered as he’d expected you to when he’d accused you (rightly) of bending over for a goddamn fucking dragon.

But before you could answer, the dragon lifted its head to press its temple against yours. Or, as well as it could do that when it dwarfed the lot of you the way an elephant might hover over a mouse. Mostly it just ended up being a very, very, delicate head bump. A deep, warbling, purr started from its chest and rolled all the way up and past its sharp, white, canines.

“Uhm,” you tried again. “You guys are invited to the wedding, I guess.”

“The what?!” Deuce howled, before promptly falling to his knees to fan himself like a devasted matron in a church.

You sighed and rubbed at the back of your head, clearly embarrassed. You mumbled something under your breath that sounded a bit like ‘it’s kind of a whole saga, y’know.’ And Ace, in all his infinite good will, decided to take pity on you just this once. And also because you were clearly loaded now, and all good friends know that sharing is caring, right?

“Come on then, Bardy,” he smirked, leaning down to kick Deuce flatter to the floor—half to knock the guy out of his frantic spiraling, half so he could perch on his back like a chair. Because the stone floor looked really uncomfortable, and he had a feeling that trying to slip into that nice nest of blankets of yours would not end well. “Tell us a story.”

[TAG LIST] CLOSED

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess, @liliasleftpinkytoe

@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl,

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus x Yuu #Dragon Malleus #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #Twst Fantasy AU #Sebek Zigvolt #Lilia Vanrouge #Silver Twst #Rollo Flamm #Slight Rollo Flamm x Reader #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade #Monster Mayhem Malleus Part 4

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antiquarianfics · 1 year

Text

Just a library of things I wrote for ease of access!

Fics are ordered newest to oldest.

❀ Fluff ○ Angst ✧ Smut

★ Personal Favorite ✰ 1k+ Notes

Requesting Guidelines

Oneshots

Making Waves ❀○ Bucky gives you a pep talk when life’s beating down on you a little too hard.

Shoot Me ❀ Bucky swears he doesn’t like Y/N. In fact, he’s so confident he’ll challenge this: If he likes Y/N, shoot him.

Accidental | pt 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5○ What happens when you accidentally kidnap the exact man you were looking for?

Draw 4 ❀ You always swear you can hold your liquor until the next morning when you’ve no clue how you’re $80 richer and why your husband is too amused for your liking.

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa ❀ ✰ Becca Barnes is generally not a serious child. She is, on the contrary, quite the opposite. She’s a silly, carefree, easy-going kid, so whenever her demeanor changes to the opposite, it is an immediate red flag that something is wrong.

A Slip of the Tongue ❀ ✰ Bucky reacts to your daughter’s new name for him as she tells him all about her new friend.

Slow Down ❀ An object in motion stays in motion until acted upon by an outside force. In this case, you’re the object and Bucky is the outside force.

You Have a Girlfriend? ❀ ★ ✰ So you get a little confused when you’re drunk? So what?

The Best Things Take Time ❀ ✰ Bucky has a code. You manage to crack it.

Therapy ❀ Sometimes all a person needs is a little reassurance they’re not a bad person.

Jealousy, Jealousy ❀ ○ ✰ Jealousy is a green-eyed monster, or so they say. You’d argue that jealousy is actually a blue-eyed, one-armed, super soldier.

Better Than Us ❀ Being a woman is hard, and it’s not necessarily something you’d wish on another.

Marry Me? Nah. Marry Me? Yeah. ❀ ★ ✰ 4 times Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you refuse. 1 time Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you accept.

Buck Moon ❀ So maybe you read the Farmer’s Almanac wrong. It’s still a successful date.

Shower ❀ ○ Sometimes it's all you can do to breathe. Sometimes you need a little help--even with the basics. Bucky's happy to help.

Sun to Me ❀ If there is one thing Bucky Barnes remembers about his mother, it is that she told him to find someone who plants flowers in the darkest parts of him. If there is one thing Bucky Barnes knows about Reader, it is that they grow him to the clouds.

Timeless ❀ Reader wonders how their life might have looked different in 1944, but they know they still would have loved Bucky Barnes.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

Series

Taken (ongoing) ○ If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

Drabbles

Poolside ❀

Distraction ❀○

Can I? ❀ ✰

Not What I Heard ❀✰

Ruinin’ the Game ❀

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justbelievinginmagic · 5 months

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˗ˏˋariadne's threadˎˊ˗ series masterlist

pairing(s): hyunjin x fem!reader, hints of jisung x reader, hints of jisung x hyunjin if you read between the lines; all of the characters are intrigued by the reader tbh

series summary: The tale of the LABYRINTH was by far your favorite book to read - even now in adulthood. Wishing for the goblin king to steal you away was your favorite past-time growing up. Everything changes one stormy night when your wish to be stolen away by the Goblin King comes true and a honeyed blonde fae man appears in your bedroom to whisk you away to be his - body, mind, and soul. Do you take his fantasied offer or shall you fight through his Labyrinth in order to reclaim your humanity & free will?

OR - When tempted by an intoxicating offer by Hyunjin the Goblin King, you fight against him to find your own sense of self once more while in the Labyrinth.

warnings/tags: inspired by the 1986' movie Labyrinth, follows majority of the movie's plot points with divergence, 3rd person POV, use of Y/N, mature topics, strong language, faerie lore!!, all of skz show up, txt cameo that i love, tension, slow burn enemies to lovers, unequal power dynamics, manipulation, fear, faerie drugging, labyrinth runner!reader, goblin king!hyunjin, banished!jisung, hunter!chan, knight!changbin, junkland boss!jeongin, sluagh!minho, boggart!seungmin, gancanagh!felix, selkie!yeonjun, changeling!soobin, knight!hoseok, knight!seokjin, war generals!ateez, more tags to be added.

word count: 55k written; ongoing

part 1 - a deal, a deal, a deal!!! (posted 4/12/24) part 2 - never go that way. (posted 4/15/24) part 3 - onwards & downwards. (posted 4/28/24) part 4 - the oubliette. (posted 5/7/24) part 5 - forwards is backwards. (posted 5/12/24) part 6 - the hunter and the hunted. (posted 5/29/24) part 7 - the wild hunt. (posted 6/5/24) part 8 - a green-eyed monster. (posted 7/30/24) part 9 - tba!!!

extra content for ariadne's thread: how i visualize skz in the world --- (will be updated as more boys are revealed in the story!)

#skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin angst #hyunjin reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fantasy au

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anonymous-dentist · 7 months

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Breaking Dawn 18- Green Eyed Monster

Chapter Summary:

Three things that are in this chapter:

1. Quackity 2. Twilight 3. A wolf

NEW CHAPTER NEW CHAPTER

REBLOG REBLOG

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!!

Spanish translations courtesy @iven-vodka

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#monster au fic

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mandosaur · 1 year

Text

Green-Eyed Monster (Ezra Bridger / Reader)

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Ezra Bridger/Reader

Summary:

“ Your one insecurity had always been that you were second to Sabine. Even when Ezra had disappeared all those years ago and your heart had painfully torn in two, you still felt second best. Ezra had left you a beautiful little message telling you he loved you for the first time before he had disappeared, yet Sabine had received one too. Even worse, Ahsoka had taken Sabine as an apprentice years ago instead of you though you both lacked an affinity for the force. Another insult your insecurities had twisted into a blade against you.

Now, ten years later, that jealousy had not dissipated. Instead, it had crossed with the horrible feeling of guilt.

While you had mourned Ezra’s death and moved on slowly, Sabine had never given up hope. She had remained on Lothal for years and always kept her ear out for news of Ezra. You had returned to your home planet and given up hope of ever finding your childhood sweetheart. Sabine had beat you yet again in seemingly being a better option for Ezra.”

Reader gets reunited with Ezra after ten years all while tormented by the thought that Sabine would be a better fit for him.

Warnings: Depictions of a panic attack. Spoilers for Ahsoka Season 1.

Word Count: 7,962

Expected Reading Time: 28:57

Jealousy. There’s a horrible feeling deep in your very bones that rakes a claw down your being. You can feel every deep gash clearly as you scowl at the bottom of your tea. Your fingers curl and uncurl against the handle of the mug as Sabine chatters with Ahsoka.

Huyang turns his mechanic head towards you from the pilot seat and Ahsoka glances your way as if sensing your turmoil from the force, but Sabine remains oblivious. Once more, everyone can sense your emotions except the very target of your ire. You bury your anger as you take a long sip of the tea and let the liquid burn your tongue.

It’s been ten years since you lost Ezra and you still can’t manage to reel in the jealousy you feel towards Sabine. She’s an old friend, someone you trust implicitly, and yet the ugly green eyed monster rears its head every time she’s near.

Ever since you were kids, you envied her. She was an old friend from your imperial academy days and seemed to be better than you even then. She was born to high ranked Mandalorian parents whereas you were born the youngest to farmers in a backwater planet. She climbed up high in the academy and won awards while you hid in her shadow and merely fulfilled requirements. She was scouted by Hera and the rebels while you simply tagged along for the ride.

And she was the person that Ezra originally had a crush on while you watched painfully from the sidelines.

Ten years ago, you had fallen in love with someone you thought you could never have. One Ezra Bridger had won you over and crushed your heart without meaning to. While you had pined for him in the background, he had pined over Sabine. You had watched it all happen while cursing yourself for yet again not being as great as her.

Even after a miracle had happened and Ezra’s sights had turned to you, you had still felt jealousy towards Sabine. While Ezra had reassured you that he liked you and made you his girlfriend, you had still harbored some resentment towards your oldest friend. There had always been a little voice inside your head that had taunted you with the knowledge that Ezra was only yours because Sabine hadn’t wanted him. That you had been a consolation prize and second best.

Your one insecurity had always been that you were second to Sabine. Even when Ezra had disappeared all those years ago and your heart had painfully torn in two, you still felt second best. Ezra had left you a beautiful little message telling you he loved you for the first time before he had disappeared, yet Sabine had received one too. Even worse, Ahsoka had taken Sabine as an apprentice years ago instead of you though you both lacked an affinity for the force. Another insult your insecurities had twisted into a blade against you.

Now, ten years later, that jealousy had not dissipated. Instead, it had crossed with the horrible feeling of guilt.

For years, she had tried to get you on her side. She had told you to not give up hope and to help her find Ezra, yet you had pushed her away. Your grief and heartache were easier to manage if you told yourself Ezra was gone for good. As much as it pained you, you gave up all hope and harshly rebuked Sabine for still clinging to the idea of him returning. Anything to kill the last shreds of hope that remained within you before time could do it for you.

You had, had a massive falling out and hadn’t spoken in years. Not until Hera had commed you with Ahsoka and told you to return to Lothal because of a lead Ahsoka had about Thrawn.

Thrawn, Hera claimed, was the key to finding Ezra. The two of them had disappeared together. If one of them was rumored to be alive, the other might be too.

You had come back to Lothal after much trepidation and reunited with Sabine. To her credit, she had accepted you back into her group even if things between you were awkward and strained.

Still, being back near her and reopening the wound of Ezra’s disappearance had brought back a decade worth of insecurity and envy.

The tea burns down your throat as you finish it off. You wish Ashoka had packed something stronger. Were you back home, you would have loved to drink until the edge wore off.

Stuck in a ship with Sabine though, you bite your lip.

It truly isn’t fair, you know. Sabine was your oldest friend. You had met at the imperial academy and struck a friendship. You both had joined the empire as a way to rise in rank for your families, and both had seen past the gilded veneer of fascism. Once upon a time, you two regarded each other as sisters and you made quite the trio with Ketsu-

But fate had driven a wedge between you. You had fallen for someone who liked Sabine at the time and always felt second best. That jealousy had torn you to shreds and created a wall between the two of you. You aren’t sure how to manage it and the thought stings.

The call of your name brings you out of your thoughts. Sabine remains unaware of the darkness coiling inside you and calls for you to look over something. She’s brought her research with her and has been pouring over diagrams that she thinks could help in the hunt for Ezra.

You wander over to her side and pretend to make sense of the mess of lines and circles she’s drawn on a holomap. Ahsoka eyes you wearily as Sabine talks and you suppress the urge to clench your fists.

“No, I’ve never seen this galaxy either,” you murmur. Your eyes don’t even gaze at the map Sabine is pointing at. Your mind is miles away running from you and the horrible pit in your stomach that grows with every second.

Guilt and jealousy swirl within you. You are angry. Furious even. Angry at Sabine for dragging you back in the hopes of finding a man you love that you’ve tried hard to get over. Angry at the force for tearing Ezra away from you-

And angry at yourself for yet again being weaker than Sabine.

Sabine had never given up. While you had run from Lothal and tried hard to forget your childhood sweetheart, Sabine had remained steadfast. It was she who had unlocked the map coordinates while you had stared at that damn ball for hours until your head hurt and your eyes had turned red. It was Sabine who could think of a million different ways to continue the hunt while you could barely keep yourself from screaming.

In every way that counted, in every Maker’s damned one sided competition, she had always been ahead.

“Can you read this for me-?“

Sabine reaches past you to click on a screen. Projections of documents appear before you all with the names of different galaxies and star maps. You clench your jaw as you notice all the notes she’s taken over each document. She’s been at it for years, no doubt, always searching. Never giving up. Unlike you-

The one person that should have never given up on Ezra. The one who had sworn to love him forever, the one who had dreamed of marrying him, the one who should have been fighting from the beginning to find him-

Ahsoka’s hand touches your shoulder. You turn your head and find her gaze on you.

“Perhaps Huyang should look over the information instead. He can process it faster,” Ahsoka tells Sabine.

Huyang accepts the assignment and takes the tablet from Sabine. Sabine hardly notices the way you glare in her direction.

“Are you feeling alright?” Ahsoka questions. Her tone is gentle yet firm. Concerned for your feelings yet weary of the darkness inside you.

Briefly, you remember Kanan and Ezra discussing the force. Mentioning how they could sometimes sense emotions and tell when people were struggling. You’re sure Ahsoka has noticed how you flicker between rage and heartbreak over and over again.

You aren’t sure whether you should apologize or thank her for interceding. Had she not stepped in, you think you might have snapped and started screaming at Sabine to leave you alone.

“Fine,” you whisper back.

You certainly don’t feel fine and the lie tastes bitter in your mouth, but you shrug away her arm. Murmuring something about needing a break, you move past the group and disappear into another room of the ship.

Huyang’s workshop is tidy and neatly organized. You take stock of every lightsaber piece as your fingers trace every groove and indent.

To add further insult to injury, you don’t have possession of Ezra’s lightsaber either. You had, had it once right after Lothal had been freed but had surrendered it to Sabine on Ahsoka’s suggestion. When Ahsoka had decided to train Sabine as a Jedi over you, you had silently handed over the last remnant of the boy you loved and stormed off broken and bitter.

The lightsaber pieces around you are each different. You don’t see anything that resembles Ezra’s pieces anywhere. After a while, you end up just sliding into an empty seat and your head falls into your hands.

Everything is utterly in disarray. Your mind races with a million thoughts and you’re sure your heart is a pile of jagged pieces each shattered beyond repair.

The truth of the matter is that you know your insecurities are right. Sabine is better than you. At everything.

Had she liked Ezra back years ago, he would have never looked in your direction. The bittersweet memories you had of dating him would have never happened. You would have never been chosen if his first choice hadn’t panned out. Ezra had tried once to tell you that it wasn’t true, that he had genuinely fallen for you and it had nothing to do with Sabine only seeing him as a brother, but you hadn’t believed him.

And now? Now she was definitely better than you.

You had given up. You had once promised Ezra to love him forever yet had believed him dead. You had left Lothal, the planet he had sacrificed everything to protect, and suppressed every memory of him. You had dated around in hopes of forgetting his ghost and tried hard to move on-

All while Sabine had never lost hope. She had always fought for him and looked everywhere. She had never once believed him gone. You had the obligation to search for him as his girlfriend, yet you had failed him. Had it not been for Sabine, Ezra would have been truly lost.

The thought makes you want to scream. You grit your teeth tightly until your jaw hurts. If you weren’t so indebted to Sabine for finding a lead, you think you’d want to swing at her. She’s always been better than you. Ezra should have just held out for her all along rather than taking you as a consolation prize.

Feeling suddenly like you’re suffocating, you slam your fist into the control panel to slide open the door. Sabine looks up as you enter and Ahsoka quietly moves to allow you to retake your old seat. You ignore them all as you slide into place and hover your fingers over the tablet.

You need a distraction. Anything to keep the terrible feelings at bay. You slam some keys down until the maps disappear and you’re staring at a blank slate.

Quietly, you bury yourself in your work all the while stewing and boiling with rage.

———————————————

Days later, Sabine’s determination beats you once more. Cornered by Baylan and Shin, you and Sabine are forced to make a choice on what to do. Ashoka is gone and the map is in Sabine’s possession. You two have to decide whether to turn it over to the very people Ahsoka wanted to keep it from or cling to the hope that Ezra can be found.

When Baylan promises to take you both to him, you hesitate. Ahsoka’s words play over and over again in your head. She has long been warning you about what will happen if Thrawn returns. You know she would want you to destroy the map and keep Thrawn in exile forever-

But what about Ezra? Will destroying the map strand him wherever he is forever too? Will you give up your last chance at ever finding him?

Your mind and your heart wage a war. You want desperately to see Ezra again but you remember his sacrifice. You know he’d want to protect the galaxy from the Empire. You don’t know what to do-

In the end, Sabine beats you to it. Better than you in every way, she hands over the map to Baylan. She accepts the terms for you both and tells you to drop your weapon with a calm, clear voice. You both hate her and feel grateful that she’s taken the choice out of your hands.

You let them cuff you and don’t even react when Shin uses the force to cut off your airway. Nothing she could possibly do could hurt more than the ugly feeling of being a disappointment. Once more, Sabine has proven herself a better fit for Ezra than you. Were he to ever find out that you hesitated on this choice, you think he’d leave you once and for all and realize that Sabine has always been better for him.

When you and Sabine face off Thrawn, you hardly pay attention. The villain that plagued you for years hasn’t changed much. His glowing red eyes sweep over you with mild boredom before he directs all his attention at Sabine. He seems genuinely unamused when he realizes Sabine has traded the galaxy for the hope of finding Ezra.

You feel a cold knife twist in your stomach and look away as Sabine faces Thrawn off. There is no hesitation or remorse in her gaze when she coldly tells Thrawn that he could never understand. You wince feeling guilty at the memory of your own hesitation.

It seems like Sabine is the only one completing this journey. When the two of you mount your steeds, it’s her who fights off the bandits. She moves like a lightning strike taking them down while you throw punches and kicks at random barely managing to take down one while she’s got the squad down in moments. When a Noti appears, it’s Sabine who realizes he’s wearing a Jedi symbol on his clothing.

You feel like a shadow merely following her around. Every new revelation and step closer to finding Ezra brings you both joy and envy.

Sabine feels like she’s better suited for the role of Ezra’s partner compared to you. She’s been loyal, determined, and fierce in his search. You, who had a responsibility to find him, had given up. Ezra deserved better than you.

By the time you make it back to Noti’s village, you feel the weight of your own soul crushing you. You feel painfully jealous, angry at yourself, and broken down. You try to ignore Sabine as she urges you forward telling you that something about this particular village feels different.

You’re so downtrodden that you don’t even realize someone is calling your name until you turn your head and hear Sabine’s breath hitch. Time seems to slow down as your eyes meet a striking blue that you haven’t seen in years. Your heart races and you move to run at Ezra-

When Sabine beats you to it.

She all but rushes past you to beat you to Ezra first. Ezra, half way to you, is interrupted as Sabine crashes into him. Her arms wrap around his frame and she buries her head into his neck. He looks like he wants to move to you for a brief moment before he hugs her back and greets her for the first time in ten years.

You hang back awkwardly watching the love of your life embrace someone else. Every hurtful thought you’ve ever heard about not deserving to be at Ezra’s side plays over and over again in your mind. Worse still, you are forced to see how good Sabine looks with Ezra. They click together like puzzle pieces and look perfect. Two halves of the same whole.

A coldness seeps into your very bones. You suppress the tears forming and grit your teeth painfully. If anything, Sabine deserves this moment. She’s the one who found Ezra. You don’t deserve him.

Despite the way it almost kills you to see Sabine steal your moment, you hang back. The ugly insecurities in you taunt and laugh as you watch them. You can’t escape the feeling that you’re an outsider looking in and intruding in a moment that you don’t deserve.

It feels like an eternity when the two of them finally separate. Sabine is smiling wide oblivious to your pain. Slowly, Ezra moves away from her and moves towards you instead. You force yourself to shove aside the familiar jealousy deciding that seeing Ezra again after a decade is worth more than the agony in your chest.

You meet Ezra halfway as he runs. Your own arms wrap around his frame and he all but picks you up to hold you close. He breathes out your name and you’re struck by how different he is.

Your hands shake as you press your palms to his face. He has a beard now, his cheeks are thin, no doubt from the lack of food, and there’s a certain maturity in his eyes that wasn’t there before-

But he’s Ezra.

Tears spill before you can stop them. His fingers wipe them away gently and his smile is bright. He says your name again like a sacred prayer.

“You’re alive,” you whisper. It’s the only sentence that you can form past the haze. Everything feels so surreal.

Ezra stands in front of you. The love of your life. The boy that had won you over ten years ago and never once let you go-

The one a part of you isn’t sure you deserve.

Ezra presses his forehead against yours. A familiar little habit he had back from when you were kids. A way to soothe you and reassure you that everything is going to be okay-

A sob breaks past your lips at the familiar action and you busy yourself burying your head in his chest. He holds you tighter to him. Underneath your palms, his heart races.

For a moment, every insecurity stops. The cold words you tell yourself over and over again in your head quiet for just this one moment. A sense of peace fills you and everything makes sense. For just a moment, all of the pain of the last decade goes away.

Ezra moves his head forward like he’s going to kiss you. He seems hesitant, unsure if he still has the right after a decade, and you want to meet him halfway-

But then Sabine interrupts the moment. She’s being herded by a Noti away and another one chirps out a different language to Ezra. You suddenly remember where you are you and draw back too fast. It feels maddening to separate from him after losing him for so long, but you think it’s better this way. It’s not like you deserve to kiss him after everything you’ve done.

The loss of him hurts like an open wound. You miss holding him. After ten years, you had given up hope of ever having that chance. It feels so cruel to lose it now-

And of course Sabine had to ruin this moment too. She’s always ruined everything for you. Perhaps she’s finally realized her feelings for Ezra and how better she is for him than you.

Your blood feels cold as you watch her grab his arm. She links their arms together and begins speaking. He gives you one last look over his shoulder before a Noti grabs your own arm to tug you forward. You are forced to trail after them feeling like a third wheel among their partnership. Something you’ve tended to always feel when the three of you are together.

They form a good team. It looks entirely natural for the two of them to be together. Sabine just makes sense at his side. She’s saved him after you’d given up, always been beside him throughout your time together as members of the Ghost, and was the first person he was ever interested in. It makes perfect sense for her to be the one with him.

A painful lump forms in your throat and you wave away the Noti’s concern when it curiously looks up at you. You trail silently through the village as Ezra begins to explain everything.

He tells you and Sabine pieces of his time here. He tells you how he and Thrawn made it here, how he ran from Thrawn and found the Noti by chance, and how he’s spent time with them since. They’re a peaceful people and have welcomed him into their ranks. He accompanies them on their travels, but he’s ready to come home.

He smiles at you both as he thanks you for coming back for him. He can’t wait to return to your galaxy and see Hera, Zeb, and Chopper.

Guilt grips you tightly. You don’t have the courage to admit that you had thought him lost. Had it not been for Sabine, he would have remained on this forsaken planet forever.

A coward to the end, you bite your tongue and hesitate at his words. When Ezra tries to move towards you, hand shyly reaching for your own, you move away as if his touch burns. You don’t think you deserve his gratefulness. Not with how awful you’ve been all these years.

It’s almost a relief when Sabine takes over. As much as it pains you to see her slowly replace you, you know you deserve it.

Before Ezra can ask you what’s wrong, you turn away and pretend to be busy with a Noti who is patching up something to the far side of the village. You turn your back on Sabine and Ezra and remain rigid as they walk away. Ezra keeps glancing back at you from time to time while Sabine urges him along to discuss things with him.

By the time they’re finally gone, you wander off further from the village and then promptly bury your head in your hands. The last of your strength leaves you and you sink to the ground below. The pain you’ve been suppressing returns in waves and you give in to the horrible voices that tell you what a terrible person you are and how you don’t deserve Ezra.

———————————————

By the time the sun sets, you’re a ticking time bomb. You’ve spent a long time wallowing in self pity. Everything aches as you make the trek back to the village.

The Noti are tiny, so it’s not hard to spot Sabine and Ezra. Ezra is holding something by the fire while Sabine messes with her vambrace. She seemingly hasn’t told Ezra about how the two of you are stuck here and how Ahsoka is dead.

When you get back, both of their attention is turned towards you. Ezra lights up and waves you over. He means to let you sit with them, but you quickly note that there’s no room. The Noti are half your size and don’t use large spaces. The log Ezra and Sabine sit at is out of room. You have no place beside Ezra with Sabine there.

Suppressing a grimace, you elect to remain standing.

“What are you two up to?” You ask. Your voice sounds colder than you intended, bitter.

Ezra looks at you and you evade his gaze. There’s something deep in his eyes that you don’t want to dwell too long on. He looks like he doesn’t quite know what to make of you. You have a feeling you aren’t who he remembers.

Good.

Maybe if he no longer recognizes you, he can give you a clean break. It’s become very apparent that you no longer belong at his side. Perhaps if he realizes he made a mistake in choosing you once upon a time, he can find someone better. The sooner he moves on the sooner you can kill what’s left of your broken heart.

Sabine is the one who answers. You’re quite frankly sick of her by then.

“I was telling Ezra everything’s that’s happened since he’s been gone. The Empire, Lothal, everything,” she responds.

Ezra awkwardly nods at her words. You feel a pit form in your stomach. Idly you wonder if Sabine has told Ezra how terrible you’ve been. Wonder if he knows you had given up on the hope of ever seeing him and tried to move on. Is that why he can’t seem to look at you anymore?

Anger and pain throb in your chest. You squeeze your jaw together.

The rest of the night passes far too quickly. Ezra and Sabine chat until the embers of the fire die down. You respond only when necessary and keep your remarks short.

Every once in a while, you think you see Ezra stealing glances at you but you ignore him. It feels like you’re having a terrible out of body experience. You’re so close to him, finally after mourning him for a decade, yet you know you have no right to rejoice at finding him. The guilt and jealousy you feel outweigh everything else.

It’s a mercy when the Noti begin to prepare to sleep. They offer the perfect excuse for the night to finally come to a close.

Ezra stands up and runs a hand through his hair.

“I sleep in the big room over there. It’s as human sized as you can get here. You both look exhausted. The journey here couldn’t have been easy. Why don’t you both take it? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve slept outside with the Noti,” Ezra offers.

“We can’t take your place-“

“I insist,” Ezra interrupts Sabine, “I’m used to camping out. The Noti constantly move from place to place seeking shelter so sometimes we have to rough it on the ground. It’s nothing unusual. You both can take it.”

Sabine glances at you with a nod of her head.

“Is that alright with you? You wanna share that tent with

me?” She asks.

Both Ezra and Sabine seem to be very interested in your answer. Ezra searches your face for something. You think there’s a question he’s longing to ask, something he’s dying to know, but he can’t bring himself to say it. It seems like he’s too afraid of whatever he thinks he’ll find or won’t find.

Truthfully, you don’t have the patience to speculate on what the two of them are trying to find out. It’s been a long day and you’ve suffered enough already.

You shrug, “Fine.”

A one word response. Sabine blinks and Ezra winces. There’s almost a flash of pain in his gaze before he looks away. You highly suspect that whatever test has just transpired, you’ve failed.

Sabine shares a glance with Ezra. You try to ignore the way the knife in your heart twists to see them communicate silently. Years apart and yet they seem to still know each other well enough to talk through simple glances and looks.

It’s all too much. You spin on your heel and march off mumbling some excuse about being exhausted.

Inside the metal tent, you close your eyes and count to ten. There’s a roar in your ears and a headache forming at the very back of your skull. You aren’t sure how much more this you can take. Already, it feels like you’re hitting a boiling point.

Everything feels terrible. The jealousy, the heartbreak, the anger, the guilt. All of it is becoming too much.

By the time Sabine returns, you’re at your limit. You don’t even flinch when she waves a hand in front of your face to test if you’re paying attention.

“What’s wrong?” She sounds concerned as she peers down at you, “You’ve been out of it all day. I thought you’d be really happy. I mean, we found Ezra-“

A scoff breaks out before you can stop it. You hate that she’s using the word “we.”There is no “we” here. It’s all her. It’s always been her. She’s the hero who saved Ezra. You’re the terrible ex girlfriend that abandoned him.

“I’m just tired,” you shrug. It’s a weak lie. She doesn’t seem to buy it as she presses you more.

“You’re not acting okay. I didn’t think you’d want to share a room with me. I thought you’d make an excuse to get out of it.”

Your eyes roll. She stops and stares at you as if finally realizing just how angry you are.

By now, the pain is cooling to anger. There’s a rage vibrating deep within you towards her. You’d love nothing more than to shut her up once and for all.

She calls your name with a frown. Concern and frustration are evident in her face.

“Seriously, is everything okay? Ezra wanted you to stay with him outside. He was waiting for you to ask to stay with him-“

“Well, didn’t you want to stay with him? You should have volunteered,” you tug angrily at your jacket. The fury is burning you from the inside. You feel like a star about to combust. It takes all of your strength to remain composed.

Sabine has the gall to look confused. She makes a face like she doesn’t get it. You aren’t sure whether she’s being coy or if she’s just dying to hear you spell it out to her.

“What are you talking about?” She moves to grab your arm. Perhaps she wants you to face her and explain why you’re suddenly so angry, “You hurt him, you know. He doesn’t know where he stands with you. You haven’t spoken to him or made a move. He’s scared you’ve moved on-“

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll comfort him. You’ve been much better for him than me,” you bite.

Again, there’s a moment of confusion. By now, Sabine herself is growing frustrated with your attitude. It seems she can’t wrap her head around why you’re so upset.

“What is wrong with you? Seriously. You finally get Ezra back and you just ice him out-“

Something snaps. The anger you’ve been suppressing spills forward like a dam. Before you can even think about what you’re doing, you’re shoving her as hard as you can away from you. There’s a sense of satisfaction in the way you take her by surprise. She’s much stronger than you, yet you manage to make her slam into the metal walls. Her armor makes a satisfying thud when it collides against them.

“Oh, shut up, Sabine!”

You move to shove her again, rage boiling over.

It’s all too much. Every negative emotion you’ve been feeling since Sabine unlocked the map where you failed has spilled over. You feel like a bomb exploding. You aren’t a violent person, yet you find yourself pushing her again.

This time, she’s ready for you. Her eyes are wide and there’s shock in her voice when she calls your name. She grabs your wrist and twists you around until she’s holding your arms in place. A move you had only ever seen her do on stormtroopers.

“Maker, what’s wrong-?”

Her voice trails off in shock as you shove off her hold. You press your hands to your face feeling adrenaline course through your veins. It burns white hot against your skin. You swear you feel your blood boiling.

“Do you know how sick I am of you?” You jab a finger at the center of her chest plate, “You just have to rub everything in. I get it, alright? I get that you’re better than me. You have always been better at everything. I never stood a chance.”

You back away from her suddenly feeling like you’re boxed in. The anger is coursing red hot but there’s something else there. It’s all consuming and harsh. You feel it practically strangling you.

While you are threatened by Sabine’s presence, some part of you knows it’s not just her that’s causing this outburst. Really, it’s more than that. A part of you is just angry with yourself.

It’s yourself you despise. Had it not been for Sabine, Ezra would have been stuck here forever. You had given up on ever finding him. For all your promises of loving him years ago, you had simply given up. He would have never have given up on you.

Spinning around, you press your fists against your eyelids to try and stop the tears forming behind your eyes.

“You found him. I gave up on him,” you whisper. It’s a harsh admission out loud, “You’re better than me. He deserves better. He deserves you.”

Sabine is stunned. She blinks and makes a face like she can’t believe what you just said. You don’t have it in you to explain. The anger is slowly becoming despair. You want nothing more than to just curl up into a ball and die.

“What? I-Do you-Is that what this is about? You think I have feelings for Ezra?” She takes you by the shoulders and holds you steady.

You’re shaking, you realize. Your hands are quivering and your breath is coming out in short pants. A panic attack.

“Don’t you?” You bite the inside of your cheek to quell the rising panic. Your chest feels too tight. It constricts against your clothing, “It’s okay if you do. He’s always liked you. You could make him happier. You didn’t give up on him like I did.”

It hurts to say everything out loud. You don’t think you could survive seeing Sabine with Ezra. It would break whatever remnants of your heart are still working, but you wouldn’t stand in their way. Ezra deserves to be happy and you’re not the person that can give that to him. If Sabine can, then she should. It would break you, but you deserve it. An atonement for your sins.

Sabine calls out your name. She pulls your arms away from your face and shakes her head firmly. She looks stunned and hurt. She’s hurt by your words.

“I don’t like Ezra romantically. He’s a brother to me. That’s it. He loves you-“

You close your eyes against the rising panic. It takes all your willpower to remember how to breathe. It feels like something has gotten a hold of your body. You feel everything mounting until it bursts. Emotions and words pour out of you. You aren’t sure just what you’re saying. Everything feels like it’s happening far away.

“He had a crush on you first. He didn’t even look at me until he realized you weren’t interested. I always knew I was his second choice. I was always so angry with you. You two spent so much time together. I was always just counting the days until he left me for you. You two just fit together. Ten years later and you two can just go back to being close. I don’t know how I could ever face him knowing that I gave up-“

The feeling of choking returns. You press your hand to your chest feeling like your lungs will give out. There’s a painful squeeze to your heart. Is this what a heart attack feels like-?

Suddenly someone is taking you gently by the shoulders. Familiar hands press against your face cradling you softly. You hear your name whispered in a low voice. You know who it is without even opening your eyes.

Ezra.

“Hey, breathe. Breathe with me,” he whispers. He shows you some deep breaths. His arms hold you in place firmly but not tightly. It’s his way of showing you that he’s here. That you’re not alone.

Slowly you try and copy his breaths. It’s a struggle to do it. It feels like every painful gasp of air you inhale rattles against your lungs. It takes much longer than it should to finally regulate your breathing.

By the time the panic attack is finally underway, you feel exhausted. There’s a heaviness to your body you haven’t felt in a while. You’re shaking as Ezra slowly moves you towards a makeshift bed. He eases you gently into a sitting position. Idly, you realize that Sabine is inching out of the encampment probably wanting to give you and Ezra space to talk.

“Are you okay? Do you need water? A blanket?” Ezra kneels to be eye level with you. His eyes are concerned, scared for you.

It’s not fair. He’s the one who’s been lost for ten years, yet here he is worried about you. You don’t deserve him.

That’s what finally does you in. You begin to sob and press your hands firmly to your face. The tears pour out of you. It’s been a long ten years. Everything just shatters.

In the last decade, you’ve cried more times than you want to admit. Grief has been a friend for ages. You’ve cried until you had nothing more to give, yet this breakdown feels different. There’s a war or emotions pouring out of you. Anger, grief, jealousy, insecurity, pain. They rush over you in waves to the point where you feel like you’re being physically crushed under the weight of them.

Ezra wraps his arms around you and lets you cry against his shoulder. He holds you firmly in place whispering words of encouragement. You don’t deserve it. You weakly fight against his hold.

Words spill forth in a whisper before you even realize half of what you’re saying. There’s just a frantic need to pour everything out. The admissions slip from your tongue without truly registering in your brain. You just need him to understand why he should hate you.

“I gave up on ever finding you. I spent an entire year unable to get out of bed. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and couldn’t think. Every little thing reminded me of you. I thought I was going to go insane. Everyone was worried about me. Hera had just had Jacen, yet she was taking care of me instead of her newborn. It felt horrible to worry everyone. At some point, I just had to let you go. I told myself you were dead and mourned you. I needed the closure so I gave up. If you were gone forever, then I could slowly move forward. I didn’t want to but it was breaking me. Thinking that you were out here somewhere was driving me insane.”

Ezra holds you tighter at your admission. You’re not sure but you swear you think you can hear him say he’s sorry. It’s heartbreaking for him to apologize. He’s the one that you’ve wronged.

“I couldn’t move on from you. I tried dating again a few years after you were gone but never made it past the first or second date. Everyone was all wrong. They just weren’t you. I kept telling myself that you were gone and that I should move on, but I couldn’t. I was driving myself crazy with grief. I even had a falling out with Sabine. Sabine kept searching for you. She never stopped. She’s the one who found you. Had it not been for her, you would have been lost forever. She’s better than me. You deserve better,” you force yourself to look at his eyes and are shocked when you see that he’s crying too. You never meant to hurt him but the confessions keep pouring out, “I know you liked her first. You only started dating me because she didn’t like you back. I told myself all these years that, that was okay. I loved you enough to be your second choice. Then these last ten years happened and they made me realize that I don’t deserve you. I gave up on you. She didn’t. She-you both make perfect sense. You just click with each other. She’s a better choice for you. I love you, but I know you’d be happier with her. She was your first choice after all.”

Now that everything is out, you feel tired. You bury your face in his shoulder and feel the way his heart is racing. His body feels tense as he lets all your words sink in.

“What? Do you think I like Sabine?” He sounds stunned. Gently, he pulls you away so that he can look at your eyes.

His eyes are red and there’s tears running down his face. He looks heartbroken. He calls your name softly and his voice cracks.

“You’re not my second choice, Maker. I’ve loved you for over a decade. It’s always been you. I admired Sabine when we were kids, but I always saw her as a sister. That’s all she is. You’re the one I’ve loved all these years. I dreamt of you every night, I tried using the force to find you whenever I meditated, the thought of you has kept me going all these years. It’s you that kept me alive. Any time I wanted to give up, I remembered you and everyone else back home and that kept me going. You were never my second choice. You’ve always been my only love. Always,” his fingers wipe away your tears and his breath stutters, “I thought you’d moved on. You didn’t want to spend time around me. You pulled away when I tried to kiss you. I thought you didn’t care me for me anymore. I was going to accept that. It’s been ten years. You didn’t know I was still alive. If you had moved on and married someone else, I would have never held it against you. Don’t blame yourself for needing to move forward.”

“You wouldn’t have given up on me. Ezra, you would have been lost without Sabine. I thought you were gone.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Ezra would have never given up hope. He would have kept searching until the very end. You didn’t.

His hold on you tightens.

“Ten years. I was gone for ten years. I don’t blame you for thinking I was dead. Maker, the ship had lost its airlock. I thought I was going to die when we hit hyperspace. You had no way of knowing I was alive. Sabine said you all only thought I was still alive when Ahsoka heard rumors about Thrawn returning. There’s no way anyone could have predicted I was in another galaxy,” he says.

You keep your eyes closed.

The rumors about Thrawn’s return are what had made this entire search possible. You had dropped everything when Hera and Ahsoka had commed you and rushed back to help the search. Sabine was steps ahead of you which hurts to admit, but you had rushed back to help.

Wearily, you think of everything you’ve done so far.

You think of how Ahsoka refused to train you in favor of Sabine because she said you were ‘too attached’ to be open to the force. You think of how you couldn’t open the map and had spent hours turning it every which way until your fingers had cramped and bled trying to pry it open. You remember that terrible moment where Shin and Baylan had you cornered, how they had offered you and Sabine passage to Ezra in exchange for the map. Logic would have had you destroy the map and prevent Thrawn from ever returning. Ahsoka would have wanted it that way, yet you had hesitated too. Your brain had said you needed to destroy it, but your heart had frozen. Destroying it meant never finding Ezra. You had let Sabine take over on that choice and hadn’t protested when she handed the map over. You’re sure now you would have made the same choice albeit not as fast as her.

As if sensing where your thoughts are going, Ezra places his forehead to yours. His way for reassuring you.

“I don’t blame you for anything. I’m sorry I hurt you all these years. If you’ve moved on, I get it. Just please don’t feel guilty you had to think I was dead to survive. Forgive yourself,” he urges.

You snap your eyes open startled.

“Ezra, I’ve never moved on. I love you. I have for all these years. I was just too guilty to express it. Sabine found you. I gave up. You deserve better. The two of you could-“

Suddenly Ezra dives forward. His lips press to yours and he holds you in place tightly. You make a sound of surprise before giving in.

It feels like something between you clicks. The world stops and everything feels so natural as you kiss him back. It’s been ten years since you’ve last been able to hold him. You don’t think you can survive another ten without him. You barely made it through these last few years.

He feels like home. After all the suffering and the self loathing, kissing him feels like everything is falling into place.

After a long kiss that takes your breath away, he withdraws. His breath is a harsh pant. His beard tickles your face as he presses smaller kisses to your forehead and cheeks. You cling to him tighter and take in the feeling of being in his arms again.

“I love you,” he breathes out, “It’s only ever been you. Please don’t say you don’t deserve me. You kept me alive all these years. It’s always been you.”

The last of your energy snaps. You feel so painfully exhausted. You cling to him tightly and let him move you back to the bed. He climbs in next to you and holds you to him as if he’s afraid to let you go.

Everything you’ve been through today makes you feel so tired. You want nothing more than to go to sleep and come back to this tomorrow. You don’t have the energy to keep going today.

Thankfully, Ezra doesn’t withdraw. Instead, he climbs into the bed next to you and holds you close. All of those terrible voices in your head quiet when he presses another kiss to your forehead.

You close your eyes feeling everything fading. The two of you aren’t done discussing this. He still needs to know that you love him too and that you are sorry for everything that’s happened. You also will have to apologize to Sabine tomorrow. It’s not her fault your own insecurities turned against her.

Still, for now, this moment feels like peace.

You curl into his arms and hold him tight the way you used to when you were young. He holds you to him and refuses to let you go. In a low whisper, you tell him you love him. As you drift off, you hear him say it back.

And for the first time in ten years, you finally feel a semblance of peace.

#ezra bridger x reader #ezra bridger / reader #star wars rebels #ahsoka show #star wars

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blazinghotfoggynights · 6 months

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Go ahead and convince me that is just a friendly look. 😒 I'll wait.

Last night, I clocked it but felt I overlooked something. I caught "the look" going on, but I was missing something.

This morning, I see this and i have some thoughts. What if there is a bi arc but it isn't what we've all been speculating? Like the writers of this show wouldn't love throwing curveballs.

So, give me a minute and stay with me? Okay? Just hear me out.

These two seem very familiar with each other. I don't think Hen touched Tommy, but Buck easily reaches for him and Tommy turns into the touch before even looking at Buck. Then the return touch to Buck is just as familiar. It almost screams, "Go on. Get outta here!"

What if the journey for Buck isn't figuring out he is bi? What if the journey is his being bi being revealed to his family and friends via an old fling or an ex and figuring out how he really feels about Eddie?

Also, Tommy is staring Eddie down like a starving man seeing a buffet. (We get it, Tommy. Trust me. Millions of us would be drowning in a puddle of our own drool if that man walked by, so we completely understand.) He was about to follow Eddie and walk away without sparing Buck a glance. (Which is criminal because Oliver Stark is fire!)

So here are some alternative theories that are floating around in my mind:

1-Could the revelation about Buck happen because Tommy pursues Eddie, which pisses Buck off? If Buck and Tommy had a fling, maybe Buck tries to warn Eddie against getting involved with Tommy, because Eddie has mentioned in canon he is a nester and doesn't like games or just messing around with people and Tommy isn't the type to settle down. Buck is asked how he knows, and BOOM! Bi Buck is revealed. Buck is jealous of Tommy being into Eddie. Eddie finds himself hurt that Buck never came out to him, although Buck was never in the closet, his sexuality just never came up, and jealous that Buck would be with other men, but not him.

Cue both men going on a journey of self-discovery.

2- Tommy hits on Eddie. Eddie responds positively and begins considering opening himself to the possibility of being with a man. Eddie has the bi awakening. This leads to either:

a. Eddie discovering his possible interest in men and confessing to Buck, who then tells Eddie he is bi, too, and will support him no matter what. There is eventual jealousy, realizations, etc.

b. Eddie discovering his possible interest in men and confessing to Buck. Eddie explores his bi side, whether it be with Tommy or just trying dating men. Buck tries to be supportive, but his inner green-eyed monster rises and makes him realize a few things about how he really sees his best friend.

(Also cue multiple new plot bunnies! 🙄🙄🙄 Stills, interviews, episodes, random posts... The bunnies are hiding everywhere!

The silver lining of all this inspiration is my creative juices have definitely been flowing like a raging river. It's helping me find my muses for my original works.)

(Thank you to everyone who has read my fics, commented, left kudos, and been supportive. You are much appreciated! 😘)

#911 abc #911 on abc #buddie #9 1 1 buddie #buddie 911 #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #eddie diaz x evan buckley #evan buckley x eddie diaz #911 spoilers #evan buckley #eddie diaz #oliver stark #ryan guzman #Lou Eng's take

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it-happened-one-fic · 8 months

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Ink and Magic - The Beautiful Oppressor

Author Notes: Part 5 of this sort of halfway non canon compliant what if with the overblots and their aftermath! A lot of what I said for part 1 counts for this section too. This isn't exactly romantic. in fact, I would say it counts as more platonic, but it certainly can be taken as shippy. This will also be a series, though the Diasomnia section won't come out until that entire matter is resolved in game. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Spoilers for Book 5: Beautiful Oppressor!

[Heartslabyul] [Savanaclaw] [Octavinelle] [Scarabia] [Pomefiore: You're Here!] [Ignihyde] [Diasomnia: to be released!]

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fic series/ Can be platonic or romantic/ fluff/ angst/ comfort/ Spoilers for Pomefiore overblot.

Word count: 2045

The glossy ink slowly slid across the ground, reflecting the toxic green fog that Vil had created and making for a truly gruesome pairing that promised pain should one linger here too long.

But then, in the middle of all that hideousness, stood Vil. Crowned with a halo of gold feathers, from which hung a black veil, and dressed in dark robes that faded from a brilliant purple that spoke of royalty to a dark black, dotted with golden stars.

The cloth draped around him in a way that, despite its tattered seams, spoke of the very elegance that Vil always carried and held himself with.

Over the young man loomed the blot monster that reminded me of an old hag. The monster let out a raspy, howling scream as Deuce’s signature spell slammed into it, obliterating it almost immediately in a shower of black ink that rained over the stage in dark cloud.

Deuce stumbled, letting out a grin as he saw the poisonous fog begin to dissipate before he froze, staring at the end of Vil’s overblot.

The young man, who up until now had stood tall, snuck to his knees. Rich cloth puddling around him as he trembled, staring at his gloved hands that were tipped with golden claws that slowly began to fade from existence, “I will be…”

He looked up as the violet flame that had been over his left eye vanished and his amethyst gaze found my wide-eyed, heartbroken stare, “The fairest….”

His eyelids began to flutter, threatening close as he wavered, swaying and catching himself with wobbly arms that would not and could not support the weight of his weary form for long.

I scrambled to my feet, skidding slightly as I took off from a crouch, and desperately rushed towards Vil as he breathed out his final words, his eyes flickering shut in a way that somehow only made me more desperate to reach him as I raced past Deuce and barely caught Vil’s final whisper, “Of them all…”

Rook shouted my name, his voice raw with fearful concern, and I could hear Epel shouting angrily at Jamil to let him go so that he could stop me as my knees hit the ground hard.

I almost hissed at the stinging sensation of the cracked wood splintering against my knees and legs, but I still wrapped my arms around Vil’s slumped form. Catching him before he fell completely against what remained of the once grand stage.

Gone were the decadent clothes that had revealed his status as overblotted. He had returned to the Pomefiore housewarden, who’d been staying at Ramshackle dorm with the rest of the NRC Tribe for the past few weeks and who’d been striving this entire time to be his very best until he broke at the last second.

Exhaustion swept over me in a wave as I grasped his limp form, and I swayed as I strained to stay awake before I exhaled, surrendering to the overwhelming fatigue that washed over me as I fell sideways against the stage. Still holding Vil tightly in my arms as the world went dark.

But the world did not remain dark long before I was greeted with an image. The first of many as I now knew.

This first scene that greeted me was that of an unfamiliar living room through which a young Vil ran, hurrying over to an adult man and holding up a paper excitedly as he spoke.

“Dad, listen to this! I passed the audition! I’m going to be in a musical school drama!”

The child’s eyes were bright, glistening in a way that reminded me of jewels as he was congratulated. But then his face fell once his father asked what role he’d gotten.

The star’s rival. Another mean villain, as he put it.

Almost immediately, I recalled the phone call Vil had gotten that day at Ramshackle dorm and how frustrated he’d seemed at being offered the role of a villain.

It seemed that his plight of being typecast was nothing new. Though I couldn’t understand why he was always typecast as a villain.

The child before me was the perfect picture of a young prince, so full of life and possibility, just like how Vil as I knew him looked like a flawless male lead, ready to sweep a princess off her feet the very instant she needed him.

I watched in silence as Vil’s father comforted his son, a smile on the man’s face as he rubbed his son’s head.

“Sometimes productions are more selective about their villain casting than their hero casting. You should be proud.”

A smile appeared on the child-version of Vil’s face as he nodded just as the image faded out.

“But...villains never stay on stage for the whole play. Once their role is finished, all they do is watch from the shadows as the happy ending plays out. What I want is to stay on the stage longer than anyone else.”

I tensed as Vil’s familiar voice came from somewhere beside me even though, just as with the others, I could not see him in the darkness that surrounded us.

I could listen to him, though.

So that was what I did. I listened to Vil’s narration and watched the memories that slowly told me the story of Vil’s life. His rise to fame and how he was always entrapped by the role of the villain.

What initially seemed like something unfortunate began to worsen as others began to judge him for his roles.

“Hey, look! That’s the guy who was bullying the hero on the TV show last night!”

“How can anyone be so mean? He must be pretty messed up.”

I frowned as the scene played out right in front of me but left me unable to step in and help the child I knew would become a powerful young mage.

I felt myself smile, almost smugly, when a young Jack stepped in to ward off the bullies. Even if Vil told him it wasn’t necessary, I knew it was the beginning of a friendship between these two.

But I couldn’t help but wonder how often such things had been said about Vil?

It wasn’t hard to figure out how many children perceived him solely based on his acting roles.

He always played the villain, so he must be horrible, right? It was obvious that was what they thought. Especially since I’d heard more mature versions of the exact same thought at NRC, though I had never realized exactly how harmful they could be. Not until now. But as I watched Vil’s life continue to play out in front of me like a tragedy from the theater, it got steadily worse.

Any praise that Vil received was always met with someone else who had something else to say and took that praise and muddied it.

And it only became worse as Neige came onto the scene, giving the people someone to compare Vil to.

“Neige is just incredible. That friendly charm and wholesome vibe comes naturally to him.”

“Vil is pretty impressive as the villain, himself. He carries himself with real dignity. You’d never guess he was only twelve years old. He’s gonna be the hero one of these days.”

“The thing about Vil is, he’s TOO perfect. His beauty is otherworldly. Vil is too special to play the part of a regular teen that viewers can relate to. Without that relatability, I don’t think he’ll ever pull off playing a hero.”

Too perfect. Too special. Unrelatable. I couldn’t help but frown at the way the people described him.

It was bad enough that they had literally just said he could never have the lead role, no matter how talented he was. But special… I’d never realized what a condemning word it could be until I’d come to this school and become ‘special’ myself.

Special meant you weren’t like others, and it meant others would always look at you differently. Special meant that no matter how many people you befriended, you’d always stand slightly apart in a lonely beam of a spotlight reserved for those deemed ‘special.’

And unrelatable? That was just cruel. Saying people couldn’t relate to him was all but saying he wouldn’t ever find someone he could truly be friends with. They might as well have said that no one would ever understand him, so no one would ever side with him. And if no one sides with you… Well, of course you’re the villain. Because for better or worse, the majority usually wins, and the winner is always the hero because that is how history will portray it.

I grimaced as the world went black around me, leaving me with just Vil’s now frustrated voice that cracked with emotion that he normally kept controlled.

“Why? Why is it never me?! All I want is to stay on the stage until the end of the show.”

To stay on stage until the end of the show…. To be the hero that people love and relate to…

To not be singled out as special and put in a special slot. To not bear the weight of being ‘special’ amongst others your age.

I opened my eyes to find that I’d curled almost protectively around Vil, cradling him to me just as I had the others when no one interfered.

“Y/n?” Epel’s voice wavered just from behind me, and I slowly relaxed my hold on Vil without fully releasing him as I attempted to roll over, only to be held in place by the actor who clung to me. But even then, I could see the others.

Our friends were all around us, kneeling with expressions of shared concern. Proof that even despite what others had said, Vil had worked hard and found friends who didn’t deem him as just ‘special.’

Ace sighed, shaking his head slightly, “We already explained it all to Rook and Epel, but…. You did it again, didn't you?”

I nodded, still feeling worn out, as I swallowed thickly and pasted a tired smile onto my face that had Ace shaking his head at me. His expression one of fond exasperation.

“How are you feeling? Is the poison still affecting you?” Jamil’s voice came from just above my head.

I tilted my head in an attempt to look at him, eliciting a chuckle from the young man whose hand reached out and pressed against my head, gently stopping me as he spoke, “Don’t bother; just wait until Vil wakes up. You know you won’t be able to move until then.”

About that time, I saw Rook from my peripheral lean down, the worry on his face clear as he quietly spoke to Vil’s sleeping form, “Vil… Oh, fair Vil. Please wake up.”

There was a quiet groan, and Vil’s grasp on me tightened ever so slightly as he pressed himself closer to me before he at last relaxed and opened his eyes, looking at me with a gaze that was still hazy from everything that had just happened.

He blinked a few times, his eyes slowly clearing, before looking around in confusion as he slowly released me with a frown on his face, “How am I…?”

He didn’t get to finish the question as both Rook and Kalim launched themselves at him, landing on either side of us so that they could tightly embrace the young man.

I smiled at their exuberance, which at first seemed to confuse Vil before his memories slowly came trickling back in and he looked towards me.

I gazed back at him as his eyes widened with realization, “You….. Did you…?”

I hesitantly nodded, rubbing my arm slightly and letting Jamil step in with an explanation as Deuce wrapped an arm around me to help me to my feet, “Yes, they saw your memories and heard your thoughts. They’ve done that with every single person who has overblotted, including myself.”

Jamil paused, looking my way before frowning, and continuing, “We don’t know why or how they do it, but….”

He trailed off and I shrugged, “Let’s talk about it later….” I glanced around the ruined stage I’d been stretched out on this entire time and frowned, “We’ve got bigger issues anyway.”

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